Inside the Mind of Isadora


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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

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge click below

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

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

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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

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

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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


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Friday Fictioneers – Bobeshi Rivqah

Bobeshi Rivqah lived with her son, Rabbi Gerwitz and his family, above the temple in Brooklyn, New York.

She enjoyed walking and talking with everyone in the neighborhood.

They all knew her as bobeshi. 

Retelling stories from her childhood at the Treblinka concentration camp, often, brought tears from those who listened.

Now, her health was failing; too ill to take walks.

Rabbi Gerwitz asked the congregation for prays for bobeshi. 

Stomach cancer took her before the test results came back.

The congregation overflowed into the street as the family sat shiva. 

Finally, Bobeshi Rivqah had found loving acceptance and peace. 

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Historical

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©RogerBultot

 

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*********

Rivqah / רִבְקָה – Rebbecca

Bobeshiבאָבעשי – Granny

Shiva / שִׁבְעָה – literally means seven. It is the week-long mourning period in Judaism.


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Friday Fictioneers – Just Once

The study was dreary even with the sun shining through the thin curtains.

‘Just once,’ he’d said.

Part of her wanted to give into his adulterous plan. 

She twisted her wedding band round and round. 

Her heart fluttered with a wave of excitement.

Glancing at the clock, she knew Randall wouldn’t be home for hours.

His empty whiskey glass her justification for the wayward exploit.

The phone rang again.

She picked up the receiver slowly; her yearning greater than her reasoning. 

She could hear his voice was full of desire.

“Once,” she said to him, “just once and never again.”

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

 

 

 

Word Count: 100

Genre: Flash Fiction

Photo Prompt:©Fatima Fakier Deria

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Friday Fictioneers – Sunflower Memories

 

Bright sunflowers had greeted Nadia each time she’d visited her baba Oksana. 

As a small child, she’d watched her grandmother cook traditional Russian meals while recounting tales of her journey to the new land she’d eventually call home.

She’d traveled on a crowded boat with few belongings. The small amount of sunflower seeds she’d brought to eat were almost gone by the time she’d arrived. 

Oksana decided to plant the leftover sunflower seeds in remembrance of her home; left behind.

Imprinted in Nadia’s heart, memories of her baba Oksana’s smile and love of sunflowers.

Nadia planted sunflowers at her grave.

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

Word Count:100 words

Genre: Flash Fiction

Photo Prompt:©Ted Strutz

To join Rochelle and her 

Friday Fictioneers challenge: 

click here 

*****The dictionary terms and basic forms for grandfather and grandmother in Russian are dedushka and babushka. They’re often shortened for children to ded (grandfather) or baba (grandmother).


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Friday Fictioneers – The Reunion

 It was Thursday. 

In one more day, I’ll be off to a reunion with friends from my cheerleading days.

We’d been Skyping plans for weeks. 

Checking into the hotel, the exhilaration was palpable. Adjoining rooms was perfect. 

Exhilarated, I unpacked the t-shirts I’d designed,

 ‘Eastern District High School Cheerleaders 1965’

After dinner, donning our t-shirts, we made our way to the football field.

It was the same as it had always been. 

Memories came flooding back. 

We recalled stories.

Raucous laughter and tears flowed. 

Hugs were shared.

Standing in her old spot, Mona was overcome. 

She died smiling.

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt: Dale Rogerson

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

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*****I’ve edited the last line to say ‘Died’ instead of ‘Passed’. A writer can learn from other writers many things to improve our writing. Neil @ Neil Macdonald Author thought it was clearer if I changed it. Thanks, Neil.