On The Road Again

August 19, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Aging, Determination, Elderly, End of life, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Micro-fiction, Motorcycle, Veterans 39 Comments

All those of little faith who did not think he’d go for it!

They must be turning in their graves or keening over walkers. Also the doctors who shook heads at him. The nurses who fussed with his linens as if treating him as an invalid would have him forget that he’s a grown man who had lifted others and carried them first across burning sands and later out of burning buildings.

He always knew that where the rubber meets the road is where he’d meet his maker.

He’d left the Rolex.

The aide can always get another motorcycle.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt © Lisa Fox

His Shadow

May 11, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Memoriam, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Flash Fiction, Guilt, Maya Angelou, Moral injury, Poetry, Posttraumatic Stress, Prosery, PTSD, Quote, Seeking help, Trauma, Veterans, War 30 Comments

Photo: Andy Falconer on Unsplash

They want to add more activity to his day. More interests. Better engagements. A hobby. A new skill.

They don’t understand.

He is fine during the days. It is the night that haunts him. Not the dark, but the solitude. The walls closing. The suffocating silence where his breath fills all the space till there is no air left. No room for words.

Then there’s the fatigue and how it erodes all his resistance. Lets the blackness in.

They offered medicine. Said it will help him fall asleep and stay asleep.

It did.

And it made it worse.

Now his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream and he cannot find the door to waking.

He feels mummified. Lost in the abyss of thoughts and memory.

The bombs. The mines. The child.

He couldn’t save him.

Guilt swallows all.

How could there be a dawn?

Note: Dedicated to all whose deepest wounds are unseen. May you find your dawn.

For the dVerse prosery challenge: maya angelou

The quote prompt: “his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream” from “Caged Bird” by Maya Angelou

A Visit From Paul

January 25, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Memoriam, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Delaware, Flash Fiction, History, Memoriam, Micro-fiction, Navy, Revisiting, Shipyard, Veterans, War, What Pegman Saw, Writing prompt 16 Comments

Milford, Delaware (Photo: Ray Hennessy on Unsplash)

“He comes to visit,” a man’s voice jarred her out of her reverie.

She’s been watching a waterfowl in the sparkling water. It’s been staring back, she felt.

“The bird?” she turned. The speaker was a frail-looking man who still managed a bearing that stated “military.”

“If it is that.”

She glanced at the crane. The oldster sounded neither confused nor joking.

“Tell me,” she rose to make room on the bench.

The man extended a hand to shake. “Smith. US Navy.”

“Marcia,” she returned.

They used to build ships in Milford, he told her. Built the four-masted Albert F. Paul, too. Launched it from the Abbot shipyard in 1917.

“174 footer, she was,” Smith sighed. “I would’ve been onboard, you see, if I hadn’t been injured. Would’ve gone down with my mates when the Germans torpedoed her in 1942.”

“The fallen seamen,” he lifted his chin toward the bird, “they visit me.”

For What Pegman Saw: Delaware

Best Foot Forward

July 4, 2018July 4, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, 4th of July, Anthem, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Independence, Resilience, Short Story, Veterans 22 Comments

Mom always told him to put his best foot forward.

So he did.

He pulled it off and placed it in front of his wheelchair. It was the shorter prosthesis, the one that didn’t need straps around the hip to secure and the one he could even put a bit of weight on. Well, on good days, at least.

A sigh climbed in his chest, but he shook it off, took a deep breath, arranged the cardboard sign, and began:

“Oh say, can you see?…”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers Challenge