The Reunion

December 15, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Basement, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Hidden, Micro-fiction, Photo prompt, Reunion, Taking chances, Visitor 64 Comments

The house was unassuming. Outdated decor and mild neglect, but nothing to write home about. That is, till they took the stairs to the basement, passed through what appeared to be a closet and headed down another and much longer flight into a stone walled damp. The steps ended with a heavy door: creaky metal hinges, old timbers, and the smell of aged oak.

Gabe’s heart threatened to sink.

Excitement was fine. Dungeons? Not so much.

How well did he know this man? College reunion be damned.

“Ta-da!” Bart flicked a switch.

A shrine.

To wine.

Just like old times.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo promot © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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

Untended

September 10, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Adversity, CCC, child maltreatment, Family, Flash Fiction, Hidden, Making do, Micro-fiction, Photo prompt, Shame, Siblings, Trauma 24 Comments

“He gets the room behind the bush,” Mama ordered.

“But Mama,” Samantha tried, “we’re in the country now.”

Mama shook her head.

Samantha swallowed a sigh. This was the middle of nowhere. No neighbors. No roads. Old growth all around. Barely a dirt path to the cottage from behind the barn.

There will be no arguing with Mama.

She caught Daniel’s eye. He did his little special wink at her and she wanted to cry. He was comforting her even though it would be he who will be stuck in a room with barely light and zero view.

His eyes flicked toward the barn, and she understood — at least in the house he’d be warm, where she could keep an eye. At least Mama wasn’t hiding him in the barn.

Mama could not stand his disfigurement. Reminder of the fire she did not tend. The baby she let burn.

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge