Inside the Mind of Isadora


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Friday Fictioneers – The Hat Factory

 

“It’s time for me to go, Gloria. It’s 3:00 already. Where does the time go?”

Grandma worked the night shift at the hat factory. Not many liked working the 4 to midnight hours.

Listening to her hat-making stories was fascinating.

As a child, I always wore the most stylish hats. She made them from leftover scraps of material from her work station.

Yesterday, I overheard her angry words about Mr. Grossman.

“He had the nerve to presume he could touch my breast,” she told my Mom. “Here, I thought he’d been generous with the leftover materials. I quit.”

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt©Jan Wayne Fields

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Her Games Shows

The sound of the portable television, blaring game show pinging sounds was exasperating.

I’d see her on the patio smoking her cigarettes and bidding on the fictitious items on the screen. 

 I’d seen her on the patio, smoking her cigarettes and bidding on the prized items on the screen. 

I glance over as I prune my gardenia. “Do you like game shows, Dina?”

“I enjoy them so much I subscribed to the game show channel,” she says.

“The shows are all repeats, right?”

“Sure, they are. I always forget the results. Damn dementia.”

~~~~~~~~~

They found Dina murdered in her recliner. 

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Our Promise

 It felt odd standing at the front door.

“Come on, Brie. Open up.”

She turned the doorknob; they entered.

The house felt eerily quiet.

The euphoria from days-gone-by was missing.

Brie couldn’t stop thinking about the last few days.

She was opposed to it.

James insisted, “It’s the right thing to do.”

“She relies on tubes, drips, and machinery?” he shouted.

“But, she’s alive,” I pleaded.

“And, our promise to let her die with dignity.”

“She gave us life, James.”

“Then, we owe her dignity in death.” 

“Doctor, my brother and I …”

~~~~~~~~~

“Look Brie, mom’s favorite Paris poster.”

 

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt©C.E.Ayer

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Just Another Day at Work

 

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

He came home at 1:30 a.m. He’d done a 4 to midnight tour.

Sandy, always, waited up for him. She could never sleep when he was at work.

Baking and ironing kept her occupied until she heard the key in the door.

His enormously firm hug let her know it had been a tough night. 

She could smell smoke in his hair. 

He rambled on about the fire and casualties. 

Six children, he repeated several times. 

Tears fell down his face.

We could hear them screaming. 

The flames were everywhere. 

We just couldn’t get them out. 

They died.

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt©RogerBultot

 

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***** Edited story from 2015 that didn’t receive much recognition the first time.


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Friday Fictioneers – Drifting on the Ocean

From the pier, I see you drifting on the ocean.

My little sailboat is calling. 

It cries out to me beckoning that I travel upon the open sea.

Let’s sail away wherever the winds take us. 

Can you feel the briny water on your sturdy bow?

I feel the oceans salty breeze upon my face, a special caress.

Aimlessly we’ll sail along finding new passages of adventure.

Discovering magical islands where rest and solace are key, and rainbows create a peacefully blissful scenery. 

Enchanting islands will embrace me as they appear, while images of amicable islanders wave a welcome greeting. 

2020©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Prose

Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt©Jeff Arnold

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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

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*****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 Honeymoon

Dear Mom & Dad,

I’m sure this ‘Thank You’ note seems quite contrary to my persona, but it’s no-less sincere.

I’ve realized how my past ungrateful behaviors have hurt you. I apologize for it all.

The incredible gala you created for my marriage to Harry left me breathless. 

As I’m sitting on the balcony with this magical view of Portofino, I’m tearful of the years we’ve missed together. Milestone celebrations; each lost along the way.

Your description of our honeymoon get-a-way was on target, to the last detail. 

Spellbound describes how I feel today.

All my love,

Meghan

2019©Isadora DeLaVega 

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Word Count: 100

Genre: Flash Fiction

Photo Prompt: CEAyr

 

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***** The names of the characters in this fiction story is in no way associated with the Royals of England.

          I simply needed two names for my characters. I have no clue about Meghan or Harry’s lives. Thanks 😎


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Friday Fictioneers – Foolish Games

“Quiet she’s walking this way,” Patricia whispered. 

Francesca approached cautiously. 

They huddled together excluding her.

Shelia chastised Patricia’s meanness. “Invite her!”

~~~~~

“Hey, Francesca, want to come to my party?”, Patricia asked, while handing her a paper.

An invite? She couldn’t believe it.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll ask my Mom”.

~~~~~

“Please, Mom”. “Patricia is the popular girl.”

“Fine, one hour only.”

~~~~~

The instructions read: ‘Go 2 blocks passed the deli on Elm Street.’ Desperate, Francesca asked a passing older woman.

“No dear, there’s no Cherry Lane around here”.

A heavy rain began to fall, the perfect cover for a fools tears.

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: J.Hardy Carroll

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~~~~~

***** Bullying is the use of force, threat, exclusion or coercion to abuse, or intimidate aggressively toward others. The behavior is often repeated and habitual in an event to overpower another.

***** Although I attended a Catholic parochial school which should have made bullying null and void, it did not. As the only Latino child in an all anglo school, my ethnic difference provided a great deal for students to use against me. Bullying comes in many colors and ethnic backgrounds; perhaps, one day it will be erradicated.

 

 


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Friday Fictioneers – We Did All We Could

When the ambulance arrived they rushed him straight to the operating room.

We paced outside the coffee lounge waiting area. 

It seemed like hours but only minutes had passed.

No one dared speak for fear of causing a deluge of emotions in the nervous mother.

Her woeful cries, when she first heard of her sons accident, rang in Isadora’s ears. She wasn’t sure she could bring comfort to her mother if anything happened to her brother, Vincent.

Hours passed. 

It didn’t seem possible, they hadn’t heard anything.

Finally, Dr. Ramundi, approached. “I’m sorry. We did all we could.” 

Anguished cries. 

2018©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Story

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:Yvette Prior

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          *****Although this story is fiction, it’s been influenced by the recent death of my grandson, Vincent.

                                     

                                                Vincent Alfonso Carrozza, 23, passed away on Monday, Sep 17, 2018

                                                           at Greenville Memorial Hospital in South Carolina.

                                                           My granddaughter, Isadora, was named after me.

                                                 My grandson Vincent’s middle name was my husbands first name, Alfonso.

 


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Friday Fictioneers – The Class Trip

The crowd increased with every passing minute.

Deidra hated crowds. 

She felt the air disappearing around her.

Misty’s teacher had insisted all students attend the ceremony. 

“Extra credit for anyone who takes a snapshot of President Trump.”

Deidra turned to her daughter.

“Look, I’ve got to get some air. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Deidra felt panicked anxiety.

She heard gunshots.

A guard grabbed her arm.

Deidra turned. 

He pulled tightly as she tried to release his grip.

“Ma’m, please,” he said. “I think your daughter’s been shot.”

“Misty?”

“Tye-dye jacket; blond hair?”

“Yes!” 

Unbearable, howling anguish cries!

2018©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt: Roger Bultot

 

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