Inside the Mind of Isadora


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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 – 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 – Bubba’s Gone Too Far

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“Maw,” Becky Sue whined, tears streaming down her face.

“Child, look what you’ve done,” Momma said pointing to the floor.
“Ya’ll dragged muddy dirt in. I’m near ‘bout to lose my mind with all the work that’s gotta be done ‘round here.”

“But, Maw, come see. Bubba’s done a real bad thing,” Becky Sue bawled.
“Please Maw, please come see.”

“Fine! I suppose it’s gotta be important.”

“Look,” Becky Sue pointed.

“Lordy that child’s done gone too far this time. Drinkin’, smokin’ and breakin’ your favorite dolly.”
“Go find me a switch, Becky Sue. Someone ‘round here needs some learnin’.”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo:©Liz Young

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Friday Fictioneers – The Window

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Harry stares out the window. He sits and stares since his Ruby’s brutal murder.

He’d taken her to the museum; then, a dimly lit dinner. She was beautiful.
Harry noticed the waiter leer at her. She provoked men with her beauty.
Her eyes the color of emeralds.

Now, he sit and stares.

He doesn’t care if he leaves the room.

He doesn’t pay bills; watch television or knows who feeds him.

His life is whatever passes outside the window.

All he sees are changing seasons, joggers, passing cars and Ruby’s ghost.

But, there’s no window.

Padded cells have no windows.

2017©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt:Dale Rogerson

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Not Candice Anymore

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She could see Marcus in his white Escalade. He made sure all his girls were where they were supposed to be. Stay warm, baby, Candy’s bringing you what you want. Money …

~~~~~

How did she get in this mess? She’s from Connecticut. We’re good girls.
Me?  I’m the rebel. I never follow rules.

Candace could see no way out. She wasn’t Candace anymore.

~~~~~

“Hey Darlin’, lookin’ for some fun?”

“Sure, baby”.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

~~~~~

The bright marquee lit the seedy motel. The room stank of smoke and sweat.

~~~~~

Thug!

If he hadn’t pulled the knife, Marcus wouldn’t have shot.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo Prompt©Shaktiki Sharma

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Trapped

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Before dawn, Paw fed the horses, pigs and chickens.

It had snowed all night. It was going to be a rough day for setting traps.

Fresh eggs and ham were ready when I got up.

“A good breakfast will get you through the day,” Maw said.

We took the North end of the farm. Maw took the South end with Bubba.

Beaver skins helped make us money in winter.

No sign of Maw when we got home. Paw and I went out to find her.

She was slumped in the snow.

Bubba cried out, “Paw, Help”!

“Maw caught her foot”.

2016©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


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Friday Fictioneers – Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree

friday-fictioneers-12916-lucy-solMegan hadn’t slept a wink.

She was surprised her mother had said she’d take her tomorrow. Plagued with social anxiety, her mother never went out. But, she said she would.

Megan picked out her red and green snowflake hat and gloves. She wanted christmas written all over her in the photographs mother would take.

Morning dawn peeked through the curtains. Megan had butterflies in her stomach from anticipation.

She smelled coffee.

Mother was up.

She ran downstairs.

“Mother, what time are we leaving to see the tree at Rockefeller Center?”

Without turning she sulkily said, “Not today, Megan, maybe tomorrow.”

2016©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

 

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~~~~~

*****Social anxiety disorder also called social phobia involves overwhelming worry and self-consciousness about everyday social situations. The worry often centers on a fear of being judged by others, or behaving in a way that might cause embarrassment or lead to ridicule.

Anxiety disorders can cause such distress that it interferes with your ability to lead a normal life.This type of disorder is a serious mental illness. For people who have one, worry and fear are constant and overwhelming, and can be disabling. But with treatment, many people can manage those feelings and get back to a fulfilling life. info:web md

For Online Support Group: Anxiety and Depression Association

 


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Friday Fictioneers – On A Dark Night

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He sat in the lamp-lit kitchen waiting.

He’d made a cup of tea for her; a morning ritual after her long night at work.

Worry increased as daylight appeared.

~~~~~~~

“It’s hauntingly dark,” she heard a voice from behind her say.

She found herself being shoved against her car.

“How come you’re out so late, honey? What do you do?”

Her hand slashed the silver blade across his throat.

Gurgles of blood oozed while he shrieked.

Inside the car, she flung the scalpel onto the floor.

As she drove away, she watched his writhing body.

“I’m a surgeon,” she said.

2016©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100

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Friday Fictioneers – The Bills

friday-fictioneers-9162016-shaktikiff2The letters were stacked high on the kitchen table. Bills. They were four months behind on their mortgage. The last letter warned of foreclosure.

Sighing wearily, she walked to the basement where her husband often hid-out, drinking booze and smoking marijuana. He’d told her it made him relax.

She could smell the pungent odor as she descended the stairs. Her decision to leave him hardened.

He was lying on the cement floor.

Shocked at the needle hanging from his vein; a note on his lap.

‘The insurance money should be enough for you and the kids.’

“Coward”, she screamed.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Word Count: 100
Genre: Flash Fiction

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers
in this challenge: click here

*****Photo Prompt©Shaktiki Sharma


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Grandma’s Old Clapboard Farmhouse

friday-fictioneers-prompt-92016-crook2
Childhood stories of the old clapboard farmhouse come rushing to mind as I stand here.

Inside the farmhouse is filled with furnishings of those days gone by.

The tin roof, wooden floor planks, cut-out squares in the walls mimicking windows are flanked by louvered shutters.

The cast iron stove kept all six of them warm in this small four room house.

Grandma’s four poster bed of log timbers showcases a rag quilt atop a straw mattress that lays’ on rope springs.

In a corner, sits the old sewing machine for making clothes or rag quilts.

Relics with momentous stories.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

 

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers
in this challenge: click here

***** photo prompt©Sandra Crook