Friday Fictioneers

Until The Rain

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , 27 Comments

 

“It will only last till fall.”

“In all probability,” Tad smiled, “so would I.”

Seth craned his neck toward the canopy, so tears stream into his hair and not onto his cheeks, where Tad may see them.

Gone was the sturdy tarp of their childhood gazebo. Stripped away by time, and the remains plucked off by winter’s hurricane.

“The trees protect it still,” Tad offered gently. “The roof we have no longer hides the sky.”

Until the rain, Seth thought, but nodded. The light was soft. Perhaps the inevitable will be, too.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Lisa Fox

 

His Royalness

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Writing, Life and love, Muse and Flow Tags: , , , , , , , 28 Comments

 

“You lift up to make him king. You lower before dethroning.”

Molly stared at Davis’s face, uncertain what to do with hers. Some hazing was expected on orientation day. But this?

Davis glared back, and she nodded as if in comprehension, desperate for a glint of mirth to reassure her he was joking.

There was none.

“And are there guidelines for when either happens?” she attempted.

Davis’s eyes narrowed and Molly swallowed. There goes her job.

The man bowed to the doll. “Please forgive her ignorance, Your Royalness.”

He turned to Molly. “Beware, for your predecessor lost her head.”

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo credit © Ted Strutz

 

 

Suspension

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , 40 Comments

 

“It cannot be saved.” The mechanic stuck stained hands in blackened pockets of oily coveralls.

Shelly tilted his head in bewilderment.

“Perhaps a new suspension…” he chanced. “A bit of wax or paint job.” Shelly could not recall the last time that the car was operational, nor how to do a thing on its behalf, but surely all that the conveyance needed was an odd term or two and the tinkering of a sufficiently grimy man.

“The only suspension that can help this pile of rust,” the mechanic muttered, “will be one that suspends it en route to wrecking.”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Fleur Lind

 

 

Aloft

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , 47 Comments

 

It was the opposite of everything. No more the steady breath of fire in the hearth. No more the solid oaken walls that Grandpa hewed and Grandma charred. No more the steady view that only seasons marked.

She was aloft atop the bedding, swaying on the ruts, the creaks of wooden wheels squeaking out of step with the team’s heavy clip-clop.

Another place awaits, Ma says, though where or what Faith couldn’t tell. How when all who’d gone before hadn’t returned?

Pa’s steady shoulders hitched with the reins. “Prepare,” he said. “We’ll circle wagons and there’d be chores ‘fore long to tend.”

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Alicia Jamtaas

For Old Times

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , 32 Comments

 

She’d see it on her way to school. A shell of itself.

A bit like her it was, she felt. Unprotected. Exposed to the elements.

Years later she returned to do her duty by those who birthed her. She took a walk, eager to escape the cloying empathy of people who knew exactly why she’d left. She saw it. Still a shell. But now a possibility.

“I’ll build you up,” she said. And did.

The thick walls welcomed her, insulating. The roof salvaged old beams into current protection.

A home at last. For old times sake. For new beginnings.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Susan Rouchard

 

 

Unmovable

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , 33 Comments

 

“She’ll never,” Howey said.

“Still, she might,” Ron argued.

Howey shook his head. No use arguing. Ron couldn’t see what he chose to ignore.

Much like Mom, Ron was, if less pessimistic. Though Howey did worry that Ron, too, would ossify with hardship and time.

“If we did all the chores, perhaps?” Ron offered.

“She’d see that as us doing our duty,” Howey noted.

Ron’s face fell. He so yearned to see the fair!

“Maybe if we patch that roof she’ll thaw a little,” Howey added, seeing his brother’s disappointment.

“Thaw who?” Mom thundered. “Wash up. We go to town!”

 

 

For Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt: © Jennifer Pendergast

 

The Enlightened

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , 26 Comments

 

We were not supposed to be afraid of them. After all, they were the articulate. Inquisitive. Supposedly enlightened.

It was the latter which scared us. The assumption. The expectation that if they have found their way here, they are automatically allies, and not foe.

And yet, they marched with those who sought to do us harm. They justified what should not be. They claimed superiority through intellectual high-ground dressed as morality.

A repetition. It was. Of the past.

And so we learned to hide. Our names. Our true identity. Our truth.

Lest we be hunted.

In the name of peace.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo credit: © David Stewart

 

Fence

Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , , 20 Comments

 

They built their house on the other side of the fence.

The far end of the bay.

To stay away.

Others aren’t like us, they’d say.

We’re better.

People don’t understand that

They’re nothing like us.

They built their house on the other side

Of the fence.

Taught their kids to hate

The Others

For not being

Like them.

For being

Less worthy.

Less than.

They build their house on the other side of

The fence.

The town gawked

First

Then shrugged

Then came to believe

That indeed

They were different,

Even dangerous

On the other side of

The fence.

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Rowena Curtin

 

 

Granny Gray

Na'ama Yehuda Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , 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

 

Oceana

Na'ama Yehuda Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: , , , , , , , , , 23 Comments

 

They never understood, when they “put her into care,” that she already had all she needed: a trundle, a trunk, a life-vest, as many friends as any needed. Sure, she’d fallen overboard, but only in stormy weather, which meant all hands on deck to sound the “Lassie Overboard Alarm” and save her.

For years she pined. For the salt air. The open space. The freedom. Even for the callouses that Papa said were part of a sailor.

Now grown, and anchored by children of her own, the sea remained away.

But she could bring it home.

Create her Oceana.

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Jennifer Pendergast