Out Of The Blue

May 27, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Creative writing, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Just because, Micro-fiction, questions, Relationships, Revisiting, Roundabout, Unexpected, Writing Challenge 37 Comments

Photo prompt: © David Stewart

The streets still shone with wet but the dome of sky stretched clear above. The wind had swept away the clouds.

She shivered even though the air was warm. Perhaps it was the damp that had her reaching for her shawl.

She hugged herself and wondered if she’d ever know whether he had left because he wanted to or because he had no other choice or because he did not know any better.

“Where are you?” she whispered.

She jumped when the fountain unexpectedly came to life and bathed the roundabout in blue.

It felt like a hello. From Hugh.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

By Heart And Hand

May 26, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Allegory, Caring, CFFC, Current events, Desert, Life Lessons, Making do, Nothing is Impossible, Photo Challenge, Poetry, Practical solutions, Science, Water 14 Comments

Photo: Amitai Asif

There is water

For the thirsty

Even

In the desert,

Where heart and hand

Were put to work

With foresight of what

Must be done,

To hold

What would otherwise

Be lost

To shifting sands

And blazing sun.

For Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Manmade

Treasure In The Sand

May 25, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Beach combing, Creative writing, Flash Fiction, Galway, Ireland, Micro-fiction, Relationships, Timing, Treasure, What Pegman Saw, Writing Challenge, Writing prompt, Yearning 12 Comments

Galway, Ireland (photo: Fum Bally on Unsplash)

He leaned on his elbows and watched, periodically checking the clock and the tide-chart that hung next to it. Any moment now.

The briny air tickled a sneeze out of him, and he debated whether he had time to go fetch a handkerchief or if he could just use his shirt. Laundry day would not be for another full week. The handkerchief won. He rushed back to the window, flushing with a combination of exertion and embarrassment.

It was sobering to be faced with his own obsession.

The waves hissed and brushed against the beach. The ocean sighed. The breeze picked up. It would rain tonight. He believed his bones.

Then he saw her, walking on the exposed strip of rock-spattered sand. Her head was down, searching. She held a plastic bucket in her hand. It had seen better days.

They both had.

She was his treasure in the sand.

For What Pegman Saw: Galway, Ireland

The Reporter

May 24, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: children, Creative writing, Ditty, Funnies, Journalist, Just for fun, Potty Training, Raising Children, RDP, Rhyme, Silly, Writing prompt 15 Comments

Photo: Sven Brandsma on Unsplash

He reports first thing in the morning.

He reports again every night.

There’s little that could dissuade him

From being absolutely forthright.

He records every scene with a flourish.

His voice reflects every sight,

As with journalist’s flair

He spells data in ample delight.

He would not be distracted from telling,

The minutia has got to be tight.

After all, he is in potty training

And to him no discharging is trite.

For RDP Sunday: Journalist

If It Rains

May 23, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Creative writing, Downpour, Family, Finding a way, Flash Fiction, healing, Homecoming, hope, Micro-fiction, Poetry, Transplant, Weekend Writing Prompt 23 Comments

Photo: Javardh on Unsplash

“If it rains,” she said.

“It pours,” he answered.

They laughed and touched palms

Over glass.

The barriers that divide

Not keeping them

Apart.

“And when it shines,” she said,

“It glories,” he responded.

She grinned and then the corners

Of her lips

Shook and her palm pressed

Again

Toward his

And her eyes unleashed a

Downpour of

Longing.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered.

“I’m almost ready

For the transplant.

My cells will welcome yours

Into my own.

As they had

In the womb.

It is like coming home.”

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Downpour in 88 words

The Visitor

May 22, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Adversity, caregiving, CCC, Flash Fiction, Illness, Micro-fiction, Migration, Patience, Photo Fiction, Photo prompt, Predictability, Rhythm 7 Comments

“He should be here soon,” Ernest’s inert body belied the excitement in his eyes.

“It might not be today,” Gertrude noted. She knew he had to hold on to hope, but she could not bear to see him wade across another disappointment.

There have been far too many of late. And more coming.

“Oh, it will,” Ernest insisted.

Gertrude nodded. When he got something firmly into his head, there was little use in trying to dissuade him. Nor much to gain from it, really.

She wheeled him to a sunny spot out of the wind, arranged the blanket over his lap, and brought herself a stool. The both of them could use fresh air as well as what vitamin D they’d manage making.

They sat. She dozed off.

His cry woke her. Joy. Not pain.

“He’s here!”

Merlin, he’d called him. The osprey rested twice-yearly, mid-migration, on their chimney stack.

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

The Ball And The Bread

May 21, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: Bridge, Childhood, Creative writing, Flash Fiction, friends, Micro-fiction, Oh-oh, Photo prompt, Pond, Things Kids Say, Trouble, WritePhoto 15 Comments

Photo: Sue Vincent

“You’ll stand on one side of the bridge, and I’ll cross it to the other.”

Millie considered.

Sylvia could be tricky. Sometimes the spunky neighbor was a delightful friend. Other times … not so much. And that’s not counting mishaps. Millie lost tally of how many times her playmate had landed her in trouble.

Millie’s hand rose to absentmindedly rub her backside. It still sported a bruise from the last ‘adventure’ Sylvia took them on. That tree limb would never grow again, and Millie’s piggy bank was half-emptied from the fine her parents had levied.

She looked at the pond. The water lilies floated serenely on the surface. A dragonfly hovered before dipping elegantly to paint a ripple. A frog leaped and splashed and swam underneath a wide green leaf. A bird chirped nearby.

It was perfect.

“I’m fine just relaxing here on the bank,” Millie decided.

“We won’t disturb anything,” Sylvia countered, flinging a braid behind a shoulder.

Millie shuddered. It was one of the things that were uncanny about Sylvia. Millie was positive the girl could read minds.

“I brought a ball,” Sylvia enticed. “And bread.”

The ball must be Denny’s, Sylvia’s brother, and almost certainly swiped without permission. The bread? Well, that was probably not ill got.

“No ball,” Millie said, then sighed. Somehow she always gave in to what became a kind of bargaining, when she in fact wanted none of the options to begin with.

“Great!” Sylvia scampered across the narrow bridge. “I’ll toss bread crumbs in the water and make some waves. You corral. Let’s see how many frogs we can get!”

For Sue Vincent’s Write Photo