Up And Up

March 3, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Climbing, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Getting Together, love, Memory, Message, Micro-fiction, Relationships, Upward 53 Comments

“Find the red door,” the note said. “Climb up, then up some more.”

Michael felt a smile spread inside his belly. Helen never could resist a rhyme. It’s how he knew it had to be her. Even after all this time. Even when the printed letters could have been typed by anyone.

He knew.

And it warmed a place in him that he had forgotten could be thawed.

The basement’s entrance was not much to look at. The stairs and walls had all seen better days.

So had they.

And yet, there they were.

Climbing up, then up some more.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt: © Roger Bultot

Top Dweller

June 17, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Animals, Anxiety, caregiving, Climbing, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Just because, Ladder, Micro-fiction, Photo prompt, Rescue 61 Comments

Photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

She peered anxiously through the glass. He should have called someone. Who climbs up metal ladders in this frost? What if he falls? Breaks something? Who would care for him? Care for her?

She pressed a knuckle to her mouth, too afraid to call out lest her voice startled him.

“Aha!”

The sound came with a ladder-wobble and she almost screamed. How can he do this to her? He knows she cannot stand to be stressed!

A moment later his foot descended.

Wobble.

Stop.

Wobble.

Next.

Then his elbow.

With a miserable-looking kitten cradled in the crook of his arm.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Devilish

December 15, 2019Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: belief, Climbing, Devil, Family, Flash Fiction, Micro-fiction, Spirituality, Tasmania, Totem Pole, What Pegman Saw, Writing Challenge, Writing prompt 26 Comments

Photo: Steve Bruce on Unsplash

“It was the devil made those,” Aunt Beulah’s eyebrows almost met above the bridge of her nose.

“They’re just a form of volcanic rock, cooled down in a specific way …” Jedidiah tried.

“By which you mean, the devil.”

Jedidiah sighed. There was no way to reason with his relative once her mind was set. Science would find its way to be in service of her beliefs, and any fact would somehow be turned into further proof of her conviction.

In some ways, he knew, he was no different, only that his spiritual experiences had more to do with being one with the rock, fingers holding on to crags, feet clinging to the surface, defying gravity, confronting his mortality.

“You go climb the devil’s work,” Aunt Beulah muttered. She’d raised him and saw herself in his stubbornness. “And I’ll be in the church praying for Jesus to keep you from dying.”

For What Pegman Saw: Tasmania, Australia