Granny Gray

October 6, 2023Na'ama Yehuda Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Ancestors, Dreams, Flash Fiction, Flashback, Friday Fictioneers, History, Knitting, Micro Fiction, Witch Hunts 25 Comments

It was the hood that did it.

Toppled time.

She stood and stared. The store around her ebbed into a surf of sounds that no longer carried any meaning. The colors drained. Rainbow into monochrome.

Like the hood.

Devoid of dye. Just like Granny Gray’s.

Someone bumped against her arm, then tugged. A voice called. There must have been words. But they were drowned.

Like Granny Gray. When they had come for her.

Way back when. And in Greta’s dreams ever since she had taken on knitting.

“Like Granny Gray,” they said. “The child has the fingers. And the eyes.”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Ted Strutz

Every Thing

September 22, 2023Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Adversity, Candy, Childhood trauma, Dreams, Dumpster diving, Friday Fictioneers, Homelessness, Hunger, Making do 42 Comments

“It will have everything in it!”

Molly’s eyes shone in the dark and Gary was reminded of other eyes they’d seen reflecting in their torch beam. He shuddered.

“It couldn’t possibly have every thing,” he tried, just for the sake of argument.

She slapped his leg with her bare foot. “Don’t be daft. You know what I mean.”

“Chocolates?” A peace offering.

“Of course! Every kind of sweet!”

Molly’s stomach grumbled, and his answered. They were both of them hungry. At least the rain stopped so they weren’t quite so cold.

Perhaps tomorrow they’ll beat the garbage trucks to the bins.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Roger Bultot

A Slivered Thing

September 4, 2023Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Childhood Adversity, Creative writing, Dreams, dVerse, Loss, Poetry, Quadrille, Sliver, Trauma 27 Comments

(Photo: Beth Hope on Unsplash)

She became an essence.

A sliver

Of her dreams.

Nothing near the child

She’d been, who played

A fairy’s magic theme,

With arms a fledgling’s

Widespread

Wings.

Life tossed her

From the nest.

Unhinged.

She a feather now.

A mere sliver

Of a being.

For the dVerse Quadrille challenge of: Sliver

Albatross

July 16, 2023Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Dejected, Difficult times, Dreams, Flash Fiction, Growing up, Historical fiction, Micro Fiction, Missing out, Weekend Writing Prompt 2 Comments

(Photo: Duncan Kidd on Unsplash)

They were all of them going to the fair. But her.

She had to stay home. Tend the fire. Knead the dough. Rock the cradle.

She still recalled her dreams of growing up. The independence.

The folly.

She went from burdened by her folks, to burdened by her husband.

The dream now an albatross.

A wail rose from the other room. The baby.

Could have been her own dejected cry.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Dejected in 70 words

Restashed

July 9, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Creative writing, Difficult decisions, Dreams, Flash Fiction, Going back, Micro-fiction, On hold, Poetry, Return, Weekend Writing Prompt 15 Comments

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She packed her bag and stashed

Her dreams into the

Locket

That held them

In the past.

She shut the door

And sighed.

She must

Return to what she’d left

Behind.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Return in 31 words

Hallowed Sleep

March 19, 2022Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Catacomb, Dreams, Flash Fiction, Life and death, Life Lessons, Micro-fiction, Sleep, Teachings, Weekend Writing Prompt 13 Comments

(Photo: Amitai Asif)

She didn’t know that where they lived was sacred. She thought all places of sleep were.

“When the body rests, the soul may travel,” her grandfather taught. “The dark makes space for dreams to manifest.”

She never doubted this referred to sleep of various lengths.

Hers, which ended when she woke. Others’, who slept on.

The catacombs were home.

To her.

To them.

One day her grandfather did not wake.

His voice now traveled in her dreams.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: catacomb in 77 words

River Run

June 19, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Boat, CCC, Determination, Dreams, Flash Fiction, Home, life-change, Micro-fiction, New Beginnings, Patience, Photo prompt, Writing prompt 21 Comments

She could not sleep for the excitement.

A dream come true. A lifelong prayer answered.

She lost count of the times they’d gone without, made do with little. They saved. They scrounged. They worked. They sought. They searched. They found.

Only to be turned down. Back onto the merry-go-round.

It was not for sale. It was too old. It was rotten. It was tied up in legal battles. It was too large. Too steeply priced. Too small.

She almost lost hope.

Then this. Beat up and needing some work. Their Goldilocks perfection.

He didn’t want to sell. His late wife’s boat. Her family’s name. Nope.

They begged. They pleaded. They tried to explain.

Finally … he relented. Perhaps they wore him down.

They drew the contract. Argued. Fretted. Signed.

The boat was theirs.

“You must rename her,” he stressed, pen in hand.

Of course.

Tomorrow it will become her River Run.