Radium Springs Roulette

January 20, 2019January 20, 2019Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Childhood memories, Denial, Family, Flash Fiction, Gambling, Micro-fiction, Radium Springs, Secrets, Weekend Writing Prompt, What Pegman Saw, Writing Challenge 29 Comments

radium springs ga casino pc

“Well then,” Mom exclaimed.

She was going over Poppa’s papers while I boxed seemingly endless books.

I looked up. There was an album in her lap, black pages empty but for an old postcard.

“He denied it when I’d said he’d taken me there,” Mom whispered. “I was young and believed him, but my heart knew all the same.”

I shook my head. Poppa was as straight-laced as they came.

“He gambled,” she explained. “A salesman meant frequent traveling. He used it to hide visits to casinos.”

She fingered the card. “Radium Springs Casino. I knew I hadn’t dreamed this place. The deep blue water wove tightly with the wheel.”

I gazed at the memento. At my mom.

“I was not-yet-four,” she sighed. “Thomas was just born and Dad took me to ‘work’ so Mom could rest. He played the roulette. … Perhaps his keeping of the card was another gamble.”

For What Pegman Saw: Radium Springs, GA

Mumbai Muscle

January 14, 2019January 14, 2019Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Flash Fiction, Hard work, India, Injustice, Karma, Micro-fiction, Mumbai, Overload, What Pegman Saw, Womens wisdom, Writing prompt 13 Comments

Photo: Simon on Pixabay

“This is too much.” Prama frowned at the heaped cart. “I don’t know how he’ll manage.”

“He will,” Abhi responded. He did not like the meddling of women in his business. Never had. But now that one of his eyes rested in a trash heap, he knew that customers found the presence of his wife reassuring. Better they talk to her than stare into his eye-patch and worry about the evil crouched behind it.

“Gaju is no longer a young man,” Prama insisted.

“Do not try my patience, woman!” Abhi growled. “Gaju feeds his family by the kilo-carried. Let a man earn a wage.”

“You could pay him more per kilo,” she shook her head at him, unimpressed. “You know he is too old to be hired by someone else and cannot lose this job. You overload his cart. Take care you aren’t also overloading your Karma in the process.”

For What Pegman Saw: Mumbai, India

Perfect View

December 15, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Awe, Big Sky Montana, Flash Fiction, Hiking, Micro-fiction, Mountain top, Nature, View, Weekend Writing Prompt, What Pegman Saw, Writing Challenge, Writing prompt 14 Comments

aerial photography of tree surrounded with fogs

Photo: Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

“There!” Angelo pointed.

“There what?” Payton panted

“There if you bother to lift your head.”

Payton scowled but was more occupied with getting oxygen into his lungs than wasting it on responses. He was sure that Angelo-The-Braggadocio had set the punishing pace deliberately to get him gasping. Not everyone climbed mountains for recreation!

The stitch in his side finally subsided enough to allow him to remove his fists from his thighs and straighten to take in the “amazing vista” Angelo had promised.

Dense fog. Vague tree tops. Milky air.

“There goes nothing,” Payton grouched.

Angelo chuckled and the saturated air softened the sound into something almost vulnerable.

Payton glanced at his friend. Glanced again. Was the wet on Angelo’s cheeks mist or liquid feelings?

“It is the perfect view,” Angelo murmured, his oft guarded face as open as a child’s. “To be inside Big Sky is to revisit Heaven.”

For What Pegman Saw: Big Sky Montana

The Chief’s Command

December 1, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Writing Tags: Creative writing, Current affairs, Ethiopia, Flash Fiction, History, Micro-fiction, Nature, Primates, What Pegman Saw, Writing Challenge, Writing prompt 10 Comments

Photo: Ofir Asif

“They are not welcome here,” the Chief decreed.

His eyes regarded the troop that was his to protect. The land was plentiful, but his soul recalled the stories of Times of Famine, when many had been reduced to skin and bone and many more had died. Legend had it that The Others had brought it on, had taken more than was their share, and angered rain from falling, seeds from growing.

He sensed Bannu’s discontent. Chiefs didn’t have to grant permission for anyone’s opinion. Life showed him, however, that good Chiefs balanced silencing with persuading.

“Bannu?” he grunted.

“What if they return with more of their kind?” The youngster’s sparse ruff bristled apprehension.

The Chief nodded. Foresight was rare. The youth had potential. It also made him someone to watch out for.

“If they challenge us,” the Chief bared teeth and growled an answer and a warning. “We fight.”

For What Pegman saw: Ethiopia

No Chicken, No Egg.

November 24, 2018November 24, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Writing Tags: Caution, competition, Creative writing, Flash Fiction, Hiking, Micro-fiction, peer-pressure, Trekking, What Pegman Saw, Writing prompt, Young Adults 15 Comments

Photo: An Errant Knight @ Wikimedia Commons

“The sign says not to hike beyond this point.”

“Signs can’t talk,” Jerry guffawed, “and anyway, that’s just legal butt-covering.”

Robert looked at the icy terrain. It looked awfully slippery. It was getting late and they still needed to hike back. He didn’t think they should continue. He also hated being Nagging Grandma. He shrugged.

Bennett elbowed him and pushed to the lead. “Well, I’m no sissy. All the fun’s up there. Road less traveled and all that.”

Robert’s neck warmed at the insult. Bennett always had to make things a competition, including who was Jerry’s ‘real’ friend and who the fifth-wheeler.

“You coming or you chicken?” Bennett sniggered.

“Last one up’s a rotten egg!” Jerry grinned.

The two barreled ahead.

Robert trudged below them, full of dread.

Later he would wonder how to tell their parents that chicken and rotten egg were the last words they ever said.

For What Pegman Saw: Bridal Veil Falls, Utah

Bayou Bridged

October 20, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Bayou, Bridge, Flash Fiction, Folklore, Louisiana, Micro-fiction, New Orleans, Short Story, Spirituality, What Pegman Saw, Writing prompt 21 Comments

City Park, New Orleans (Photo: en.wikipedia.org)

They always met in the park. There were spirits there, too, of course: The drowned. The lost. The desperate. The abandoned young. However, these tended to be the milder spirits, mellowed by moss and rain and the freedom to roam on whispery winds. House spirits were harsher, meaner, and angrier. They carried histories of rape and whippings and the smaller everyday murders that chip at a soul until there is nothing left but agony and bitterness.

It was better to meet in the park, on a bridge between this world and the other, chiseled by masons, anchored by time.

She lowered herself onto the top stair and waited. She’d hear him come, but she would not turn. He did not bear to be looked upon.

“I will take him across,” he’d said when they last met. And he had. It was a gentle death.

Now it was her mother’s time.

For What Pegman Saw

Bottomless

October 13, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Bottomless Lakes, Drone, Flash Fiction, Internet Challenge, Micro-fiction, New Mexico, Roswell, Searching, Short Story, Teens, What Pegman Saw, Writing prompt 12 Comments

Photo: New Mexico Tourism Department

“Which one was it?” Mark peered into the screen and jiggled the joystick for the drone.

“I don’t know,” Jake panicked. “It looks different from the ground.”

“We really should call 911,” Sherlock fretted.

“Shut up and live up to your name, will ya?” Jake snapped. Worry and guilt made him mean.

Sherlock turned beet red. In two months he’d finally be old enough to rid himself of this kick-me-name. Not that he trusted it’ll matter to those who already knew him.

Mark maneuvered the drone over the blue circle. He scanned the rocky edges. Ted was only supposed to pretend to jump in, so they could post it online for the new “Dive In” Internet challenge, but he either lost his footing or decided to show off.

A ripple in the watery surface had him zoom in closer.

The drone tilted, wobbled, splashed into the sinkhole, and disappeared. Like Ted.

For What Pegman Saw: Roswell, New Mexico

Waiting for Panav

October 7, 2018October 7, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Writing Tags: Anticipation, Coming of age, Family, Flash Fiction, Hyderabad, India, Micro-fiction, Short Story, What Pegman Saw, Writing prompt 13 Comments

hyderabad-2707439_1280

Hyderabad, India (Photo: Pixabay)

“Can you see him?” Aashi danced on the balls of her feet. “Is he here?”

Her sister slowly passed the binoculars over the crowd.

“Maha!”

Maha sighed and adjusted her sari. She had taken Aashi to the roof because the girl’s incessant buzzing got on Dādī’s nerves. Grandma was anxious enough for Uncle Panav’s arrival without her youngest granddaughter upsetting the chapati.

“He’ll be here soon,” Maha allowed. She didn’t really think she’d be able to spot him. Still she kept the binoculars trained on the market hive below.

Heat rose from the street, stirred by hawkers’ calls and drivers’ horns and the indistinct hubbub of people that had made Hyderabad home.

Aashi’s bangles jangled. Some were Maha’s till this morning.

She touched her nose ring. A gift from Uncle Panav, who will be Chaacha no more. Her chest tightened. Tomorrow, after they wed, she’ll call him Pati.

Hindi Glossary: Chaacha – uncle; chapati – unleavened Indian bread; Dādī – Grandma; Pati – husband

For What Pegman Saw: Hyderabad, India

Horse Spirit

September 29, 2018September 29, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Archeology, art, Flash Fiction, History, Micro-fiction, Paleolithic, Portugal, Short Story, What Pegman Saw, Writing, Writing prompt 27 Comments

Photo: Palaeolithic art at Foz Côa’s Archaeological Park, Portugal

“Why do you hit the rock with sharpened stones?”

Golin quaked under The Elder’s frown. It was forbidden to harm The Rocks That Shelter. The big stones protected them from biting teeth and snarling maws. They stopped the wind. They held back scorching sun. They reflected heat from fires.

And let flames paint shadows, Golin thought.

“He will drive away Horse Spirit and we will starve,” Morsen scowled predictably.

“Let him answer,” The Elder said.

Morsen seethed. The old man always favored Golin.

“The Rocks That Shelter do not anger when the fire lives in them,” Golin pointed at the dancing reflection on the wall.

“He makes no sense,” Morsen pouted. A few others nodded but The Elder’s stony gaze did not leave Golin’s face.

“They draw the fire near,” Golin stressed. Couldn’t they see? “Perhaps The Rocks That Shelter will welcome Horse Spirit and call it here.”

For What Pegman Saw: Douro, Portugal

Worse Off Than A Monk

September 22, 2018September 22, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Adolescents, Basque region, Decisions, empathy, Family, Flash Fiction, Loss, Micro-fiction, Off The Grid, Short Story, Teenagers, What Pegman Saw, Writing prompt 15 Comments

Photo: Mapio.net; Goizueta, Navarre

“I am not going!”

They cannot send him to that miserable hut where there’s no electricity, no running water, creepy crawlies, and no internet. Even monks have internet. He was going to be worse off than a monk!

His father sighed. “Aitona Antton needs help and Osaba Alesander is still recovering from his motorcycle accident.”

“So I need to lose a leg to get out of this?” Danel grumbled.

His father’s sharp inhale told him he’d gone too far.

He shrugged apology. He was in enough trouble. Ditching school, hanging out “with the wrong crowd.” It was exile or jail.

“He’s your great-grandfather,” his father sounded tired, and not just from spending nights at Uncle Alesander’s bedside. “You used to love visiting him.”

“Before Birramona died …” Danel stopped. The remote homestead was awfully quiet without his great-grandmother. How much more so for Aitona-handia?

He sighed. “At least I like goat-cheese.”

For What Pegman Saw

(Basque glossary – Aitona: Grandfather; Aitona-handia: Great grandfather; Birramona: Great grandmother; Osaba: Uncle)