Inside the Mind of Isadora


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Friday Fictioneers – Sunday Ferry Ride

Rain poured down. We were waiting on line to board the Staten Island ferry; a habitual Sunday routine. Usually, we’d go to the beach then visit, Mr. Frank. He was a Santero.

I was feeling car sick. My dad smoked Camels.The open windows would blow the smoke into the backseat.

I can remember the first time we were waiting to board. I had a panic attack and couldn’t stop crying. I thought we were going to drive into the ocean. I can’t swim.

“Shut up!”

A simple explanation would have helped.

Uncanny, I still see a ferry and cringe.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

 

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

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Santeria is a syncretistic Caribbean religion.

Santeria includes the worship of the Orisha — literally “head guardians,” and religious beliefs of the Yoruba and Bantu people in Southern Nigeria, Senegal and Guinea Coast. These are combined with elements of Roman Catholicism.
Arriving as slaves in the Caribbean, Santerians preserved the elements of their religion by equating each Orisha of their traditional religions with a corresponding christian saint. Many traditions, within the religion, recognize different equivalencies.

One common example includes:
Babalz Ayi became St. Lazarus (patron of the sick)

Shangs became St. Barbara (controls thunder, lightning, fire…)

Eleggua or Elegba became St. Anthony (controls roads, gates etc)

Obatala became Our Lady of Las Mercedes, and the Resurrected Christ (father of creation; source of spirituality)

Oggzn became St. Peter (patron of war)

Oshzn became Our Lady of Charity (controls money, sensuality…)

Many Santerian beliefs are not freely discussed outside of the faith. In addition, there are many religious leaders whose beliefs and practices differ significantly. information click here

 


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Friday Fictioneers – Sashay to Trouble

The moon filtered through the starless clouded sky.

She could see tiny white lights shining on the patio. By midnight, they’d be drunk.
It was the perfect night to go.

Silk stockings stretched over her shapely legs and thighs. A black leather skirt accented her curvaceous hips. The spiky heels, she’d picked up at a yard sale, completed her outfit. She felt as fiery as a hot chili pepper.

A car pulled up beside her.

“Looking for some fun?”

“No …” “I’m near my destination.”

“Think so?”

“I’ve got other plans for you, cupcake.”

Tearfully, “I’m grounded. Right Mom?”

  2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo prompt: Dale Rogerson

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Friday Fictioneers – In the Garden

 

She was waiting for him in the garden. He’d gone to get some wine for their moonlight stargazing tonight. He was always very romantic.

Walking among his many prize-winning roses, she was enveloped by their aroma. There were many varieties. He was proud of his green thumb.

Turning, she saw him running towards her.

“Mona!”

“My precious flower. The love of my life”.

He finally said it.

Oh, Pierre!

“Mona, my flower!”

“Oh, Pierre! I love you too!”

Pierre reached her. He knelt down and moved her foot aside.

“My flower!”

“You were standing on my prized-winning flower.”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:Sarah Potter

 

 

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December 30, 2012


Icy rain poured on the cops.

The grim chaos didn’t surprise them. It was a safe haven for the regulars. A place they could shoot up.

“Overhere, Carl”.

“What da we have?” asked the coroner.

“DOA, female, white, blond, maybe 20, looks like an overdose.”

“Damn, these young people. They think they’re invincible.”

Gagging, Sarge nodded his head.

“Yeah, looks like heroin. She’s got teeth; that’ll help. Get her down to the morgue, ASAP.”

~~~~~

“Frank, she’s back here.”

“Seeing her, he screamed, Myrna.”

“God no, he wailed. Man, that’s my sister.”

“She’s been missing. She’s no junkie. She was kidnapped.”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

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

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Friday Fictioneers – The Last Letter

The house was eerily quiet. The chilly air, a reminder of her long-term estrangement from her mother.

Sorting through years of her mementos was going to be laboriously stressful. It would be easier once Monique arrived.

She opened a leather box her mother kept on her desk. Letters from France?

Angelique read the last letter:

‘Dearest,
I miss you, though your touch lingers still.
Without you, time is an empty space.
I long to hold you. My heart aches for your return.
Come back soon, Mon amour.
Je t’aime,
Pierre’

Ergo, the secret of our French names finally revealed.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt©Sandra Crook

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Friday Fictioneers – Flamenco Competition


“Por favor, Renaldo, can we stop all of this practicing. My feet are swollen. My toes ache.”

“Esmeralda, we must practice if we’re going to win the competition.”

“But, it’s snowing and I wish to go home while I still can.”

“The Flamenco has to be perfect; no missteps, we must be flawless.”

“Okay, go, he snarled. Work on your costume and return early tomorrow. No excuses.”

Cautiously, Esmeralda, walked to her car.

From behind she heard a scream.

Quickly, she turned and saw Renaldo sitting on the icy concrete.

With a sheepish grin, she shouted, “No practice tomorrow … right?”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt:©Magaly Guerrero

 

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~~~~~


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Friday Fictioneers – Gratitude

Although there wan’t any dinner because he’d arrived late, he felt no ill will.

Freshly brewed coffee and donuts were set out for the night. This would be enough for him.

~~~~~~~

The street lights were a warm welcome for the oncoming damp chilly night.

The lamppost, near his favorite bench, the ideal place to secure the fine bicycle he’d found at the Salvation Army today. The boots fit him perfectly, too. He was happy the saleswoman had given him this woolen blanket as he left.

Soon sleep. And, another day would have been lived.

God, he thought, life was grand.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:©Jellicos Stationhouse

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Changing Marina

As soon as we approached the marina in St. Thomas, I could see his face turning red.

“Do you see this Laura Lee?”

“Yes, I do Max.”

“Things are changing. I used to love this little marina. Now, it’s always under construction and overcrowded with boats in every little space. It won’t be long before we won’t have a dock for our sailboat. I can recall when we’d be the eye candy for all who loved a good looking sailboat. Now, we can barely navigate around these obstacles.”

“Max, lookout. There’s a cruise ship coming; starboard side.”

Crunch

Man overboard.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:©Fatima Fakier Deria

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Hell or Opportunity


Stoic, Carmen sat in the back of the taxicab.

She scrutinized farms and gated mansions they passed.

Her parents told her she was going to the small town where her mother was raised.

But, this was her senior year.

How could they?

Why?

No answers.

Irrational gibberish about going back to her roots; her roots not mine.

“You’ll attend the Benedictine Catholic Academy: Nuestra Señora de la Valvanera.”

“Your great aunt will care for you.”

Carmen wept uncontrollable. The trauma was tearing her apart.

“How dare you question this opportunity,” her mother sneered.

“But, why?”

“Because, we know what’s best.”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:©Hardy Carroll

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Friday Fictioneers – A Dark Night

friday-fictioneers-22417-january-snowfall-nighttime

Alberto tried to convince Blanca that tonight would be the perfect night to meet.

He texted her to look out her window. A dark night; no moon. No one will see you.

What about the old lady across the street? She never sleeps, she texted back.

Look, your father will be asleep. I finally got my brother to lend me his car.

It’s snowing. Cold.

I’ll keep you warm. I promise I’ll get you home safe.

Blanca put on her black sweater. She figured it would camouflage her.

She grabbed the door knob.

From behind she heard, “Where’re you going?”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Romantic Fiction
Word Count: 100

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*****Photo Prompt: ©Sarah Potter