Inside the Mind of Isadora


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What Did Your Garden Grow?

Knowledge is like a garden; 

if not cultivated,

it cannot be harvested.

©Isadora DeLaVega

Challenge:

Every Wednesday Crispina will post a photo like this one above.

You respond with something CREATIVE

Crimson’s Creative Challenge

to join in click here 


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Friday Fictioneers – Playing Hooky

Come on, Sandy.

No, I don’t want to get in trouble.

It’s beautiful down by the lake at this time.

No! I mean it.

There’s canoeing and paddling.

I don’t know how to do any of that. 

We don’t either. We can learn together.

Ed, Lila, and Ralph begged me to go.

Persuaded, I caved.

I didn’t paddle or canoe but watching the eagles flying above us made it all worthwhile.

In the end, I was happy I’d gone along.

In terror, I stood before my mom’s angry face.

 I knew my awful fate by the look on her face.

2021©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:KristaStrutz

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers 

in this challenge: click here


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Friday Fictioneers – Love is Like a River

The cloudy night casts a shadow over the river.
Sitting on the bank, I’m regretting my failures while mourning my loss.
We’d felt solace here.
You were the chuckle in my laughter. The path I walked, that kept me straight.
We spent time listening to the reverberations of the river’s course.
Your eyes twinkled as you listened to me speak tender words of love.
The placid water exudes a strange calm.
There’s a stillness in the air that surrounds me.
Looking at the reflection of my face in the serenity of the water;
My thoughts linger gently on yesterday.
Gone …
2021©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt: PennyGadd

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers 

in this challenge: click here

She’ precious ❤️❤️❤️

This was originally posted on FF in 2016. I’ve repeated it due

to my granddaughter visiting with my new great-granddaughter.

My eyes must be deceiving me. 

It’s my childhood bike.

I reflect on the hours of recreation we had together.

You gave me happy days of endless activity. 

I never thought I’d grow to ignore you, but other things took your place.

Here you are in Momma’s crumbling house; your body rusted, consumed with decay.

 I didn’t expect you to be here among the memories of my childhood.

You played a sweet symphony of shades of color for me to enjoy.

Fear of endings grasps my emotions. 

I banish them to the disposable world, and their unique beauty ends.

2021©Isadora De La Vega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt©LisaFox

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers Writing 

challenge click here 

The morning mist of light rain chills the damp air. The sprinkles fall like fairy dust.

Somber moans of grief echoing in the silence mimic the sound of metal thumps.

Our hearts shattered into aching pieces with memories of her kindly, gentle spirit.  

The dark holes of fragmented pieces felt in each of us.

Grandmother would have called this a celebration of her life.

‘No tears, no sorrow for my death, just joyful memories of my days,’ she’d say.

Grandmother’s friends were remembering her vibrant life.

A dark hole of broken hearts forever silences her wise words in the end.

2021©Isadora De La Vega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo:©Ted Strutz

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers Writing 

challenge click here 

*****The elderly continue to be the biggest victims of this dreaded pandemic that we’re still in the midst of experiencing. My daughter is a counselor at a hospice hospital in Albany, NY. The deaths are staggering. Please get vaccinated and wear masks.


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Art & Music – A Lover’s Dance

The stages have been silent for a long time during the recent encounter of the COVID19 pandemic. The pastimes we loved to do were no longer open. 

Art museums, theaters, musicals, dances locations, and concerts shut down completely. The heart-nurturing events I enjoyed stopped.

I’ve been a dancer from the time I could walk. I danced to make people smile. Although I’ve danced in every genre, my favorite has always been tap. The high-energy rhythms can raise your endorphins to great heights. 

 I adore all genres of music, including classical from my ballet training days. My husband is a New Orleans jazz and blues music lover.

Because of the closings and isolations, we decided to have Saturday Music Nights. We’ve watched YouTube videos, streamed many concerts, and played dance music to keep up our stylish moves. This week I chose the genre. I hope you get as much energy from watching Sarah Reich from PostJukebox Music tap dance.

Enjoy … Isadora 

©Isadora De La Vega

*****Post Mosdern Juskebox – clich here to view more videos


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Inky Mess – PPP#3

Olivia, where on earth have you been with Inky?

Pointing, Olivia said, he did it, Momma.

He did what?

Well, he was running really fast. I tried to keep up, but I couldn’t.

Then, he got to the grimy pond and jumped in. I had to jump in and get him. When I got out, there was dirty mud all over Inky and me.

No more jumping in the pond from now on, or I’ll have to keep Inky in his safety cage.

Okay, let’s get you both cleaned up and ready for a nap.

Yes, Momma, replied Olivia obediently.

2021©Isadora De La Vega

Word Count: 100

Genre: Flash Fiction

Dakshali is the host of PPP

for details and to join in click here


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Friday Fictioneers – Alone

Through hazy eyes, I glanced around the room. 

A beeping sound echoed in my ears. It had a mesmerizing tone.

The yellow glow of light reflected on the walls as the sun rose.

I felt numb. 

My mind couldn’t recall what had happened to me.

There was no one in the room. I was alone.

A frightening chill crept through my blood. 

Daunting thoughts raced through my mind.

There were bruises all over my body.

 I ached.

My chest swelled with emotions. 

Tears flowed as panic took hold of me. 

How did I get here?

And, why was I alone?

2021©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©Na’ama Yehuda 

To join Rochelle in her photo writing challenges

along with her Friday Fictioneers – click here