Out-Strutted

April 27, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, City life, Current affairs, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Homelessness, Micro-fiction, Practical solutions, Seeking safety, Shelter 19 Comments

ted-strutz-street

They knew they’d need some help. They knew where to find it.

They weren’t very good at building anything, even less at securing it to withstand the snow, the winds, the cops.

Or so they hoped.

It was better to make use of what was already present.

What others, who had better skill and quite possibly better sense, had built.

Sure, some called it squatting. Some found them vagabonds.

But why not when the struts provided good foundations?

It was a pity, really, that so many did not understand.

The cops raided one night. Tossed the tents.

Kept the struts.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Ted Strutz

Herself

April 23, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Authoritarianism, Be yourself, Expression, Freedom, Have a voice, Micro-fiction, Poetry, Provocative, Rise up, Weekend Writing Prompt, Women's rights 18 Comments

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(Photo: Lorenzo Fattò Offidani on Unsplash)

They told her to not

Make waves.

That to speak out is

Provocative

And that it is

Unladylike.

Unseemly.

And goes against the word of

God

As interpreted by

Themselves

Who see it as their duty

Control

Her.

They told her to be meek.

To atone

For the sins

Eve.

She stood.

Unfurled.

Provocative.

As the Goddess made her.

Herself.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Provocative in 62 words

For Now

April 20, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Deserted, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Making do, Micro-fiction, Runaway, Runaways, Seeking safety, Survival 45 Comments

kananaskis-cafe

They didn’t know where she was. She preferred it that way.

The windows were all missing. No doors. Graffiti covered the shell of building.

It was far from town, but sometimes travelers stopped to stare, and some used the empty rooms for all manner of unsavory business.

She spent most days in the nearby woods. Foraging. Snaring. Keeping watch.

At night, she kept to the relative shelter of the basement, hanging bits of chain on entryways to serve as warning chimes.

She dreamed of restorations. Of locks on doors.

She wanted more.

But it was home enough.

For now.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt: © Carole Erdman-Grant

Chalked Up

April 18, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Meditations, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Chalk, Classroom, Ending, Memory, Micro-fiction, Poetry prompt, Quadrille, Retirement, teaching, Writing Challenge 26 Comments

(Photo: Noita Digital on Unsplash)

The swirl of white had gotten

In her eye.

Placed a tickle in her

Throat.

The door would close.

The chairs will sleep with bottoms

Against table

Tops.

There would be no more

Early morns.

No damp sponge

To erase all of yesterdays’

Chalk.

For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: chalk in 44 words

Not Cold

April 16, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: cold, Friday Fictioneers, Funnies, Just for fun, More Alike Than Different, parenting, Pick your battles, Standoff, Stubborn, Things Kids Say 34 Comments

chair DaleRogerson

“I am not cold!”

“Your lips are blue,” the mother deadpanned.

“They’re not!” the child insisted, her exclaim dampened by chattering teeth.

“I see,” the woman breathed and swallowed a retort. The girl was altogether too much like herself and would only dig in deeper if confronted.

One set of eyes stared at the other.

The shuddering intensified.

“There’s a nice warm bath and dinner waiting inside,” the mom dangled.

A shrug.

“And how long do you intend to be … um … ‘not cold’?”

The little girl narrowed her eyes.

“Very well. Shall I bring you a chair, then?”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo: © Dale Rogerson

Singing Dandelions

April 9, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: Being in the moment, children, Criticism, Dandelions, flowers, Freedom, Micro-fiction, Poetry, Singing, Weekend Writing Prompt 15 Comments

(Photo by Elijah Hiett on Unsplash)

The world was full of golden fuzz.

The sun shone on the meadow.

She let herself soar, up and up.

Her voice free to glide on from high to mellow.

“What is that god-awful noise?”

Aunt Edna woke, her voice a sonorous bellow.

“A yodel,” the child said.

“A bird in my throat sings the dandelions yellow.”

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Yodel in 57 words

Season For Reason

April 4, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Courage, Current events, dVerse, End violence, hope, humanity, Poetry, Quadrille, Reason, Season, time 23 Comments

(Photo: Inbar Asif)

‘Tis the season for

Reason.

Time for soul to be

Bold.

Time to oust stale perceptions

And to justice

Uphold.

‘Tis the season for

Reason.

To let true heart

Take root

And dishonesty

Doom,

So the summers of

Tomorrow

May

Sing sunflowers to

Bloom.

For the dVerse quadrille poetry challenge: Season

Gateway

April 2, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Carving, CCC, Flash Fiction, Gateway, Historical fiction, Horses, Just for fun, Micro-fiction, Namesake, Photo prompt, Timeless 25 Comments

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She pulled the reins gently, but Mathilde was already slowing. Perhaps the mare knew where to stop. Perhaps she understood Elana’s shift in the saddle.

The horse tensed under her thighs.

“I know you want to gallop,” Elana patted Mathilde’s sable neck. “We’ll just stop here a minute.”

Mathilde snorted, then lowered her head to nibble on a cluster of dandelions by the gatepost.

“It’s been too long,” Elana whispered. To herself. To the plaque the ancestor she was named after had placed at the property’s threshold. A crest. A warning. A gateway.

Elana reached and Mathilde pranced sideways, bringing them flush with the square of gray granite. “Thank you, Em,” Elana breathed.

Her fingers traced the carvings and rested on the wheel of time.

The air around them shimmered. Bent. Restored.

The pasture rippled in the sun and she heard a clash of swords. Laughter.

“Let’s go visit Great-Grandam!”

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

The Raise

March 30, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Adventure, Blending in, Curiosity, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Micro-fiction, New York City, Runaways, Street life 34 Comments

r-bultot-street

“Will you stop it already?”

Davie swallowed a sigh and lowered his eyes. He was making them stick out like sore thumbs.

“Only tourists and amateurs look up,” Bessie admonished, kicking a dry piece of sidewalk gum. “Real New Yorkers have already seen everything.”

Perhaps, but he had yet to. And he wanted to notice. Everything. Who lived in the tall building? Whose shoes were tied overhead? Why? Was it a memorial? A gangster’s territorial?

“Raise plow,” he read, imagining. He was looking up again.

“If we’re caught,” Bessie hissed,”the only raise you’ll get is welts from belting.”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Green Grace

March 26, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: CCC, Deserted, Discovery, Flash Fiction, friends, Greenhouse, Kin, Loss, Micro-fiction, Photo prompt, Professor 18 Comments

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“I didn’t even know where she lived.”

Maya shook her head, agreeing. “Don’t think anyone knew.”

“I did,” Sydney whispered.

Deena and Maya turned to her and stared. Tears made a path through the makeup on Sydney’s cheeks, ruining an hour’s worth of work in front of a mirror.

“Spill …” Deena demanded after Sydney said no more. “You brought us here!”

“Yeah,” Maya echoed, encircling the overgrown garden and weed-filled greenhouse with her arm. Goodness knows the condition of the stone cottage. “How come you know where Rock-For-Heart…” she shrugged apologetically at Deena’s kick. “Sorry, now that she’s, um, gone…where Professor Rockfort lived?”

Everyone gave a wide berth to the gruff professor in musty tweeds and bushy eyebrows. Her snap was prodigious, and her marks were stingy. Why would anyone even want to know where she lived?

“Her name was Grace,” Sydney sniffled. “And she was my great-grand aunt.”

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge