Inside the Mind of Isadora


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Friday Fictioneers – At The Hospital

The medical staff was ready when the ambulance arrived at the Emergency entrance of the hospital. Medics flooded the doctors with the patients’ information. Then, they were off to the next medical call. 

Once stabilized and tested, the doctors diagnosed a concussion and a broken femur.

“Do you have any family?” they asked the disoriented patient.

“No family,” he mumbled.

One doctor asked a nurse, “Has his family been contacted?”

“No family,” he repeated.

“There’s good news about your condition.”  “Who should we call?”

“Sobbing,” he cried out.

“My family has died from the pandemic.” 

“This was a failed suicide.”

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

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Word Count: 100

Genre: Flash Fiction

Photo Prompt:©SusanEames

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Friday Fictioneers – The Christmas Surprise


From her window, she could see the lights outside twinkling brightly.
The winds were blowing and hissing. A blizzard was on the way.

The fireplace wood crackled as it warmed the room. She watched the flames dance. 

Strange seeing Christmas decorations up this year. Her friends had encouraged her. ‘Just do it,’ they said.

But, she felt lonely.  Isolation from family, friends, and Ron off on a business trip. Pointless! 

It looks like *Jack is going to keep me company tonight again. 

Ron arrived home early, his Christmas surprise. He found her.

Bottle in hand, killed her and her pain.

2020©Isadora De La Vega

Word Count: 100

Genre: Flash Fiction

Photo Prompt:©Dale Rogerson

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***** ‘Jack’ a form of referring to the Jack Daniels – Tennessee Whiskey.


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Friday Fictioneers – Red Tide

As soon as Larry moved in with Betty, he joined the turtle patrol. She lived on the beach as a child. It’s no surprise she bought a beach house.

Larry was a conservationist all his life. He walked the beach to stay healthy while ensuring the safety of the turtles. Watching the hatchling emerge and make their way to shore was environmentally impactful. 

Recently, the red tide was getting worse. The smell of dead fish washing ashore could be seen from their porch. An overabundance of algae, some said. No one knew for sure, all speculation. 

Upside, fewer tourists visiting.

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

Word Count: 100

Genre: Flash Fiction

Photo Prompt:©Sandra Crook

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*****Red tide is a common name for algal blooms, which are large concentrations of aquatic microorganisms, such as protozoans and unicellular algae (e.g. dinoflagellates and diatoms). The upwelling of nutrients from the seafloor, often following massive storms, provides for the algae and triggers bloom events. Harmful algal blooms can occur worldwide, and natural cycles can vary regionally.

The growth and persistence of an algal bloom depends on wind direction and strength, temperature, nutrients, and salinity. Red tide species can be found in oceans, bays, and estuaries, but they cannot thrive in freshwater environments.©wikipedia

A short video for the impact Red Tide has on beaches ….

The scenic drive to my beach … In 2019, Red Tide had cleared.


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Friday Fictioneers – Black Night

In the light of day, the narrow street appears menacing. It had a quaint charm last night. 

Today, I must show the polizia where everything happened. 

It was a brisk evening. We met for wine and spuntino.

Later, we walked through these ancient streets, his muscular arm warming my shoulders.

Lovers passed us engrossed in each other’s eyes, a travelers concept of Italian romance. 

His full lips rivaled dark-captivating eyes as they draw me in. Romance was in the air.

 Regretfully, forever, I’ll remember this nightmare and the scent of his garlic breath.

Now, police search for my horrid rapist.

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©Rowena Curtin

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Polizia – Italian: police

Spuntino – Italian: snacks

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*****I missed last weeks writing challenge with this fun photo prompt. I think this photo can be added to this story. Enjoy …


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Friday Fictioneers – The American Dream

Tears flowed faster than Esmeralda could wipe them away. She was inconsolable. Five years of waiting was all for nothing. The dreams of a better life negated by a virus.

Pedro was fortunate to have found a job as a dishwasher at MaMa’s pizzeria when he arrived in America. Leaving his family behind was a high price paid but worth it. It meant a better life for his family. Drug cartels were taking over his town. Random shootings with crime rampant too edged him on for a better way of living. 

The landlord trashing his life onto the sidewalk: Defeated!

2020©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt: Roger Bultot

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Be Safe … Isadora 😎


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Friday Fictioneers – Sunday Outings


Sunday was family day. Staten Island was Father’s favorite place to go because of the beautiful beaches, plus his good friend, Mr. Frank, had a big home surrounded by a white picket fence, and backyard for us five kids.  

Mr. Frank was a Santero. During WWII, he migrated to Cuba from Germany. His live-in housekeeper was from Haiti. She made the best rosemary fried chicken for us. 

The spiritual rituals, Mr.Frank performed were in the basement. Saintly statues, lit candles, incense, cigars, red and white fabrics, were part of the alter. He was frightening.

We always stayed outside. 

2020©Isadora DeLaVega 

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Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:©Ted Strutz

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21 August 2020

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The term “Santería” translates into English as the “way of the saints.”[1] This is the most popular name for the religion, although some practitioners consider it offensive and avoid it in favor of alternatives.

Santería developed among Afro-Cuban communities amid the Atlantic slave trade of the 16th to 19th centuries. It formed through the blending of the traditional religions brought to Cuba by enslaved West Africans, the majority of them Yoruba, and Roman Catholicism, the only religion legally permitted on the island by the Spanish colonial government.©wikipedia   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santer%C3%ADa/


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Friday Fictioneers – The Interview

Dancing was on her mind all the time. Magda was obsessed with the idea of becoming an Alvin Ailey jazz dancer. She disliked practicing ballet for posture or tap for flexibility. The movements bored to tears. Jazz had a rhythm all its own.

She told her parents about moving to Hollywood after graduation. They tried to discourage her by saying she was foolish.

Entering the agency, she was awestruck by the photos on the walls.

Mr. W asked, How big a star do you want to be?

Musicals big, Magda replied.

There’s a price, you know.

Reality hit, Magda shuddered.

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction

Woed Count: 100

Photo Prompt: ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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***** I’ve had no internet for this past week. Our rainy season is here causing issues. If I missed your story from last week, I’ll be sure to read it this week. Be Safe … Isadora 😎


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Friday Fictioneers – Life Erases

Alzheimer was erasing her mother’s life.

Sarah holds the door as her mother shuffles into the club. 

Brunch every Sunday after Temple at the Boca Grande Golf and Country club. Father loved golf, a member for years.

A big smile from Cecelia, the hostess, greets us as she escorts us to mothers favorite table. A Mimosa, Mrs. Cohen? Teary-eyed, she remembers past days with Moisha when its placed in front of her. 

Your father went far despite Auschwitz, Mother said with a blank gaze. You’re a good girl, Sarah, a good daughter.

At the funeral, Sarah remembered her words.

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre – Flash Fiction

Word Count – 100

Photo Prompt: Jennifer Pendergast

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***** This week our challenge is to edit our previous story with this prompt or create a new on. Due to time restrictions, I’ve added my edited story from April, 2015.


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Friday Fictioneers – Nature Awakens

The morning air is misty.

A slight chill is perfect for my walk.

 It’s eerily quiet today. 

Invigorated, I’m ready for my early morning coffee on the lanai.

The view of the garden revives my soul. It’s peaceful. Nature’s tooting her horn with songs of praise to the blooms about to be born. Trees reach out their branches to the sun in a zen posture. Bursting leaves beginning to sprout in verdant colors.

Winters days are slowly departing.Time for spring to emerge and draw near.

Birds fly above with silken wings glistening in the sunlit air. Blue Jays sing. 

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

 

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

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Genre: Prose

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt©Douglas M.Macllroy


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Friday Fictioneers – Prinsoner Numbers

Last week, I wrote about Bobeshi Rivqah. If you’d like to catch-up click here. This story does stand alone. Ironically, the locked cages in the photograph had the same feel as the ones shown at the Florida Holocaust Museum in Tampa, Florida.

Mama, can I go outside?”

“Go! But, don’t go far.”

From my stoop, I watched Mrs.O’Doherty and Bobeshi Rivqah talking.

“Rivqah, you’re telling me they used the same numbers?”

“Yes, can you believe that?” 

Mrs.O’Doherty shook her head from side to side.

“They reused prisoner numbers from the dead; especially, is if they were moved to another camp,” Rivqah said. “Dehumanizing!” 

Slowly, I made my way towards them.

They were taking about something I’d wondered about.

“Why do you have numbers on your arm, Bobeshi?”

She hugged me and said, “One day, you’ll know kleyn meydl, one day.”

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Historical

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©JHardy

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***** Stoop: a porch with steps in front of a house or other building.

***** Prisoner numbers in the system of German Nazi concentration camps. The prisoner numbers have become a synonym of dehumanization that struck the deportees of the concentration camp. These numbers were to serve efficient “management” of camps, performed by the SS teams. ©http://auschwitz.org/

***** kleyn meydl / קליין מיידל – little girl