Silence is a source of great strength.©LaoTzu
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And, that’s the burden of a year.©anonymous
Under her breath, Katherine grumbled. Moaning all morning about her disinterest in going to Chinatown fell on deaf ears. She hadn’t come to New York City to see food markets, commercial stands filled with counterfeit designer items, or inhaling scents from so many restaurants. She cringed from nausea.
Traveling with Charles was always a problem.
Katherine was looking forward to cultural places like the MOMA museum or a Central Park carriage ride.
You’ll enjoy the chaos was his reply when she questioned his itinerary. Let’s compromise, stay an hour.
Fine, she said.
A vendor shouts: ‘Ma’am, you want Gucci handbag.’
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt:©Roger Bultot
To join Rochelle in her photo writing challenges
along with her Friday Fictioneers – click here
***** MOMA – Museum of Modern Art is located in Midtown Manhattan in New York City on 53rd Street. It is an Art Museum.
In February, we had another photo prompt from Dale Rogerson. Since this week we’re having an encore of another of her wonderful photos, I thought I would continue my first Flash Fiction story called Dying Love. If you missed reading it click on the title; although, the stories are independant of each other. Thanks for popping by … Isadora
She sat on the chaise lounge, watching the droplets of rain slide down the window.
Her eyes were swollen and red from the tears she’d shed for hours. Time didn’t exist.
A blank space permeated where there used to be laughter between him and her.
Now, he was gone.
Why?
The police were kind but seemed suspicious. The paramour is always suspect.
Yes, they were opposites in many ways, but he was gentle, kind, and conscientious of her likes.
No, he was a keeper. She’d begun to fall in love.
Will she ever be happy again or die pining away?
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt:©Dale Rogerson
To join Rochelle in her photo writing challenges
along with her Friday Fictioneers – click here
It had become a struggle to get up during the pandemic.
Working from home was unconstrained; isolation was suffocating.
Lack of human contact was wearing her down.
After weeks of online conversations, she accepted an invitation to meet Marco at The Cellar.
It’s crowded; music’s loud.
Look for the guy wearing a red shirt.
Strobe lights glanced across his face when I spotted him.
He was tipsy, not a great first impression, but handsome.
Her instincts quickly kicked in when he touched her thigh.
As planned, her lifeline phone call rings.
Amanda?
I’ll be right there.
Sorry, emergency, gotta go.
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt:©AnneHiga
To join Rochelle in her photo writing challenges
and her Friday Fictioneers – click here
The simple things are also the most extraordinary things,
and only the wise can see them.©Paulo Coelho
The sea has its pearls
the heaven its stars
But my heart, my heart
my heart has its love 🍃🍃
Nature produces
the greatest results
with the simplest
means. These are
simply the sun,
flowers,
water and
love. 🌿🌿
©Heinrich Heine
Music is the smile of the soul … 2021©Isadora DeLaVega
“Splatters of Colors and Hue”
Color me a Rainbow,
Sprinkled with golden dreams
with dashes of wishes
of purple, blues and green.
Color me a Heaven,
With cotton-candy clouds,
amid a sky of azure blue.
Color me sweet red roses,
kissed by a fresh morning dew.
Color me some raindrops,
with splashes of misty-crystal hue
and wet blades of silky-green grass
to run barefoot through.
Color me lofty trees,
dressed in autumn’s shades of gold,
Clusters of scarlet and brown leaves
on the ground,
as the seasons unfold.
Color me a white winter land,
with whistling winds and whirling sounds.
Snowflakes flying in the crisp-cool air.
Then color me right into a verdant green,
spring where robins sing without a care.
Color me back to summer,
beneath a lemon yellow sun.
Then color me a silver moon,
and a black starlit night
when the day is done.
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Welcome – make yourself at home. Pick a pretty cup or mug for coffee, hot chocolate, or herbal tea. Sit in a comfy chair so we can chat.
There is no preparation or test assignment nor hint to prepare us for certain things in this world.
We hear stories of tragedies. Usually, it’s someone else’s family.
No one expects it’s going to be theirs. No one prepares for death and, then, it happens.
The dreaded phone call or, as in my case, a letter which brings our carefully crafted house of calm and stability, crashing down with one single statement, ‘I’m sorry’.
Sorry … and, you wonder why they are sorry.
Sorry … about the fact they could not save the person.
Sorry … that they have to be the person to bring bad news to you.
Sorry … for the departure of your loved one from this world.
There is no preparation, no practice.
In that moment, you either walk across the broken shards feeling the loss with every stinging sensation or, you stare unmoving, long and hard at the broken pieces. Nothing can prepare you for that split-second reaction.
Either you grieve, or you don’t.
It’s a sad time for me.
My brother, George Anthony Diaz Maisonet was born December 8, 1957.
He died December 01, 2020. He was born with a brain disability called Hydrocephalus. He lived with my mother until she pass away in 2010.
Lucy was his caretaker/companion until she became ill and could not care for him. Shortly after, the government placed him in a sanatorium. They did not notify the family of his death.
When he died his body was sent to a medical school for students to explore his illness and study his organs. It felt overwhelming when I first read this in the letter. I’ve come to accept that he is helping people from suffering the life he led with their research. It’s a consolation to know he is now with his beloved mother and father.
R.I.P. George 🙏🏻
Reach out and touch someone with LOVE today ... Isadora 😎
It’s warm as I lay on my-blanket staring up at the sky. The bright sun sparkles on the crystal blue waters. It’s peaceful; a calm sensation fills me.
A man is painting at a peak on a hill under a towering palm tree.
In the distance, sailboats skim the water.
Flamingos settle by the water’s edge scooping-fish. They resemble gentlemen wearing pink tuxedo shirts with spotted yellow bowties.
As the skies change from sunny yellow, reddish pink, and orange, a gray shadow sweeps over the water.
The man picks up another canvas, ready to create the ominous sky.
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt:©C.E.Ayers
To join Rochelle in her photo writing challenges
and her Friday Fictioneers – click here
“Let’s go to the shore,” he said.
“You’re mad, it’s snowing. Plus, we might get snowed in,” she said.
He loved spontaneity.
She didn’t.
Come on! We’ll walk the beach, shiver, then run to the warm flames of the fire left behind in the fireplace. We’ll sip champagne, eat chocolate strawberries as we warm. Besides, you aren’t able to resist my yearn for you.
~~~~~~~~~
She watched icy waves hit the shore from the balcony.
Just moments before, they’d laid close in each others’ arms, relishing the passion of their lovemaking.
The fading red roses near the flames emulated his death.
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction Romance
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt:©Dale Rogerson
To join Rochelle in her photo writing challenges
and her Friday Fictioneers – click here
Every season spills its own wonder on earth ….©Isadora DeLaVega
‘Spring Dawn’
Every flower of every tomorrow,
is a seed well planted
on a winter’s day.
Then, earth awakens.
The wonder of another season.
Bringing colorful flowers,
for Spring’s debut.
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
Music is the smile of the soul … 2021©Al DeLaVega
