Inside Job

March 17, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Adversity, Encourage, Finding a way, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Make the most of it, Making do, Micro-fiction, Survival 25 Comments

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“It doesn’t matter what it looks like on the outside …”

“Yea,” Elianna intoned, “it’s what on the inside that matters.”

“Exactly,” Jennifer winked. To be easily discouraged was a privilege of the young. Something time cured. Or tanned into tough old leather. She chuckled.

“What?” Elianna sounded wounded.

“I was laughing at myself, Eli.” Jennifer tested the length of her chains. Sink to bed to door. “We can do not a thing about that horrid gate or those who guard it, but let’s put some elbow grease into this door and make our inside view a good deal better.”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Brenda Cox

Or So He Claims

March 12, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Current affairs, Moral compass, Narcissism, personality, Poetry, Purport, Relationships, Standards, Unacceptable, Weekend Writing Prompt 25 Comments

(Photo: Sandra Grünewald on Unsplash)

He would not ever harm

Another

Soul.

Or so he claims.

He says he doesn’t see the benefit

Of such a

Game.

His very words

Exclaim

Just how incapable he is of

Admitting blame

Or having even the

Appearance of

Shame.

It is clear to her that what

He purports

To be,

Makes him the very

Opposite of who

She will agree

to see.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Purport in 64 words

Stable Home

March 9, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Adversity, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Home, Making do, Micro-fiction, Priorities, Seeking safety, Stable, Survival 42 Comments

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They thought it mattered to him that it wasn’t fancy. That he’d care it was damp. Or old. Or cobbled together from what materials could be found.

They were wrong.

All he ever wanted was a roof that did not leak, a hearth that could be lit, food enough to fill his belly, safety in his sleep, a bed that did not bite, walls that did not threaten to collapse about his ears.

The cabin was all that.

And more.

Sure, it had housed horses, and smelled of them, sometimes.

It only made it more a home.

A stable home.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Lisa Fox

She Will Not Become

February 26, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Meditations, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: being yourself, Choices, Expectations, Find your voice, Flash Fiction, individuality, Mannequin, Micro-fiction, Poetry, Weekend Writing Prompt 15 Comments

(Photo: Roberto Martinez on Unsplash)

She will not become a mannequin.

Her mother may have images of what a daughter looks like.

Her father may hold his of what she must not, at any cost, resemble.

Her teachers may believe she found bad friends.

Her brothers had supplied them.

To all she says –

In mind if not in volume –

That she will not become,

A mannequin.

She will find her own way.

Her look.

Her path.

Her mirrors.

Enough already lost,

As childhood magic

Left,

And stripped

Her life austerer.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Mannequin in 85 words

In The Wrong

January 22, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Choices, Criticism, Finding your way, listening, Mothering, parenting, Poetry, self-esteem, Trust yourself, Weekend Writing Prompt 25 Comments

(Photo: Anna Hecker on Unsplash)

She was, always, in the wrong.

The wrong path. The wrong friends.

The wrong choices. The wrong dress.

The wrong dreams. The wrong job.

Wrong husband.

Wrong … no … not the wrong children.

Just the sometimes-very-difficult ones.

No wonder,

When her every action was judged

Widdershins.

So she chose to listen

To no one,

But the small call

Of her soul,

And the small arms that wrapped

Around her legs

When she reached

Down.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: widdershins in 75 words

Storied Stories

January 21, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Adversity, books, Childhood trauma, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, hope, Institutionalization, library, Micro-fiction, Survival 42 Comments

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They climbed in silence, single file, the occasional foot scraping a bare concrete step.

Lindon pressed his lips. It helped stop the trembling. This was his first ‘trip’ off the ward and he wanted to look around. To look at others for their reactions. But new or not, he’d learned enough to understand that it was better not to. He kept his head low.

A scent hit him. Like Grandma’s house. Last month. Eons ago. He blinked.

The stairs ended. He looked up. His eyes grew.

His heart, too.

A room of books.

Stories. Escape.

He knew he would survive.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Ted Strutz

The Gall

January 8, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Adversity, Betrayal, Cruelty, Deceit, Flash Fiction, Home, Homelessness, Micro-fiction, Temerity, Weekend Writing Prompt 16 Comments

(Photo: Abigail on Unsplash)

She steamed and paced and stomped and stewed.

The temerity. The audacious liberties he’d taken.

It was one thing to sell the house.

Another, to have removed her name from the deed.

To have kept the change hidden.

Her parents’ house, no less.

The place of hers – not his – childhood.

Cruelty was why she’d left him.

But this?

He, vacationing on islands.

She and the children, homeless.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Temerity in 69 words.

The Gift

December 11, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Adversity, Current events, Flash Fiction, Hidden, History, Micro-fiction, Secret, Smuggle, Trafficking, Weekend Writing Prompt, Work 23 Comments

(Photo: Jennifer Burk on Unsplash)

She was not there.

Of course, she did the work. She wiped the sinks. She did the wash. She peeled the taters. Washed the floors.

But she was not there.

Not when people stopped by. Not where there were any windows open or any blinds up.

She’d been smuggled to them as a child.

A gift.

From someone.

To the man and lady of the house.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Smuggle in 66 words

Wild Away

December 5, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Breathing Space, CCC, Childhood Adversity, connection, Finding a way, Flash Fiction, Foster Care, healing, Home, Micro-fiction, New Beginnings 12 Comments

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Margot leaned closer to examine the stake. Her smile grew.

The child should be called Gretel, with such clues.

Then again, Margot was no evil stepmom. Or at least, not evil … The two of them couldn’t help not being biologically related.

Not any more than the girl could help being wild.

The social worker believed the latter a hindrance. Understandable, perhaps, given how many placements the child had lost. The system found it inconvenient to have a lass with more wilderness than tameness, who needed space and took it. Knowing Grenadine’s history, how could they not see why she’d tolerate no leash?

“This child will run away,” the social worker had warned when Margot said she’ll have her. “You’re so rural, you’d have no help keeping her contained.”

Margot had no plan to do so.

The child was free. The sticker meant that she’d be home by dinner.

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

No Reflection

November 13, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Adversity, Ancestors, Family, Flash Fiction, Historical trauma, History, Micro-fiction, Mirror, Recognition, Weekend Writing Prompt 41 Comments

(Photo: Pixabay)

The full-length glass was bedecked in heavy gilded glory. A forest of paintings crowded around it, their layered oils glistening in the candlelight.

She stopped and stared back at the faces. Unsmiling figures in stiff postures clad in roiling silk and velvet cloths.

Perhaps they ought to have felt familiar. The line of jaw, the slant of brow, the coil of hair above a hooded eye. She had seen all those before. She could again. If she just let her eyes glide toward the mirror.

She would not.

Know them.

Her ancestors.

Her captors.

Both.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Mirror in 95 words