Inside the Mind of Isadora


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Friday Fictioneers – Jilted Lover

Friday Fictioneers - claire-fuller-9.web

He’ll never do this to another woman again. I fell for the outer trappings.
Tall, dark, with piercing green eyes that bulge out like beacons. The penthouse in Manhattan overlooking Central Park.

I fell for it all. What a fool I was.

Never again!

An office romance never works out. And my boss, no less.

What was I thinking. I lost him and my job.

He won’t get away with it. I’ll ruin him.
No one will suspect me. I’ve always had access to the files.
I’ll get to them, copy his business and personal information.

Then, call his wife.

2015©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 Words

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers                                                                                                                                                                     in this challenge click here or the Froggy image.

********* 

Recent news reports about the hacking of a cheaters web-site influenced this story. Read more below:

CNN It must have been a panic attack weekend for Ashley Madison website customers wondering whether they were soon to be outed in the latest highly publicized breach of cybersecurity. The website openly facilitates adulterous relationships with the help of a sophisticated advertising campaign which promised discretion and security. Its name, “Ashley Madison,” is a clever blend of two particularly popular female names with a ring of class and elegance, aimed at attracting the married men who largely populated the site. Information©Paul Callan is a CNN legal analyst, a former homicide prosecutor and media law professor. He is “of counsel” to two law firms: Edelman & Edelman PC and Callan, Koster, Brady & Nagler LLP. The opinions expressed in this commentary are his.


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Friday Fictioneers – The Flame Flickered

Friday Fictioneers - moon-and-sky1.webPhoto Prompt – ©Madison Woods

I can see the flicker from my living room window, especially on this blackened night. I know it’s that damn candle. The flame is flickering like a bolt of lightning piercing through the sky.

I can’t understand why Mona wanted someone to take care of the horses. I was still capable after my heart attack.

Dang, doesn’t that cowhand get it??? That barn could go up in flames in a minute and light up the sky.

My patience is wearing thin.

But, I’m reduced to silence. I know what she’ll say.

“No need to worry, honey, it’ll be fine.” “Relax.”

2015©isadora delavega

 

Genre: Fiction
Word Count: 100 Words

 To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers in this challenge click here:
****** Revision: I revised two line to help the reader better understand who the main character (the husband) is referring to.
To maintain the 100 word count, I eliminated a word in one sentence and made it two sentences.
Hope this makes the story flow better.
Thank you for my blog critiques.
Dang, didn’t he get it?> original line
Dang, doesn’t that cowhand get it?> revised line
But, I’m reduced to silence because I know what she’ll say>: original line
But, I’m reduced to silence. I know what she’ll say>: revised line
Cowhand – a cowboy employed to tend or ranch cattle or horses; a cowboy or cowgirl.


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Friday Fictioneers – Strange Relative

Friday Fictioneers - Prompt - in-the-light.web
Aunt Molly was never included in family gatherings.

She’s strange, everyone said.

Yet, here I am standing among her clutter and dust.

Why did she name me her heir?

I barely knew her.

Was there a message among these relics of antiquity?

She made potions, everyone said.

What kind of potions?

Was she a witch or chemist?

She mixed elixir concoctions to heal the believers.

The estate appraiser will be here soon. Perhaps, he can give me some insight.

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you just say $50,000 dollars for that purple bottle?

Yes, Ma’am. It’s a collectable.

Dear Auntie Molly …. I love you.
2015©isadora delavega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 Words

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


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Friday Fictioneers – The Carousel is Closed

Friday Fictioneers - 7222015.web

Mother was furious and mumbling to herself. She did that when she was angry.
She turned to PJ and me in the back seat.

“Did you hear what the man said? The carousel is closed. He didn’t say why.
An hours drive wasted. No griping or tears on the way home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Good Evening – this is Audra Smith
Breaking News …
Two children found murdered at the Suffolk Park Carousel.
The light dust of snow preserved the bodies and evidence.
Police have a suspect in mind but no one’s been apprehended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silent tears flowed down Mothers’ face as she hugged us tightly.

2015©isadora delavega

Genre: Fiction
Word Count: 100 Words

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


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Friday Fictioneers – Papa’s Unfulfilled Wish

dijon friday fictioneers.web

Brigitte exhaled as she came upon the Cathédrale Saint-Bénigne.

Pensively she said, “Papa would have been tearful. He carried painful memories of the war in his heart, Gabrielle.”

“Henri, why did you die before you could find peace?”

Mama had never spoken about those times; nor did Papa.

After the funeral, I promised Mama I’d bring her here. Now, she’d find peace for both.

Viewing the inside of this beautiful cathedral, it was difficult to imagine the terror they felt during the revolution. They survived because of this church.

Mama sat with closed eyes and prayed.

She never awoke.

2015©isadora delavega

Genre: Historical Fiction *****
Word Count: 100 Words

***** Research led me to the information that Cathédrale Saint-Bénigne de Dijon was a cathedral built in 13th and 14th century France.          After some background history, I used my imagination to create this fictitious story.

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers in this challenge click here:
https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/07/15/17-july-2015/


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Friday Fictioneers – The Tenant

lauren-moscato.web

Shaking his head, Sam couldn’t believe what he’d bought at auction.
Frost was on the ground; more to come tomorrow. No outdoor work ’til Spring.

How’s he going to flip the Strokov House with it’s blackened reputation? What was he thinking?

Mrs. Strokov had rented the house with her small salary from the fabric shop. Mr. Strokov would soon follow from Russia.

That morning, she argued fiercely with her daughter.

“You will testify against that teacher who shamed and violated you”.

“No Mama”, Marta wailed. “I beg you”.

“We have pride”.

That night, from the rafters, she hung her anguish.

2015©isadoradelavega

Genre – Fiction

Word Count – 100

The challenge is to write a story in 100 words – beginning, middle and end.

To join in the challenge – click here

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/04/01/3-april-2015/


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Friday Fictioneers – The Lie

david-stewart.web

The lawn chairs were rapidly filling spaces on the grass.

Shari looked down and focused on her book. She was hoping to disappear.
Maybe, no one would notice her. She hadn’t wanted to attend the concert.

“People will ask about you”, Bart raged. He was adamant about her going.
The seething fury in his eyes said it all.

She was startled back by a syrupy voice.

“Are you excited about Bart’s solo tonight? Marjorie asked.

“Sure she is”, Kathy mimicked Marjorie’s syrupy Southern drawl.
“Did you break your arm Shari, dear?”

“The dog,” Shari said meekly. “The dog tripped me”.

2015©isadoradelavega

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Genre – Fiction
Word Count – 100
PHOTO PROMPT – ©davidstewart

The challenge is to write a story in 100 words – beginning, middle and end.

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – to join in click here


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Friday Fictioneers – Underground

WARNING … Language May Be Offensive frost-on-a-stump-sandra-crook2.web“Cut the Crap, Scumbag”.

“Start talking”, Detective Probst shouted.

“Tell us where she is”.

“Resting blissfully,” Boris smirked at him.

“Trash your little poetic words dirtbag”.

“What kind of deal can I get?” Boris smirked.

“No deal”.

“We have the evidence”.

“Spit it out, your dead anyway”.

“By a grassy meadow with a tree that stands no more.”

“Poetic shit again,” Probst brusquely.

“Go”.

“She’s there”.

The squad headed to the park where he’d been arrested.

A tree stump marked her burial grave.

“It never gets easy,” Detective Probst said, his voice cracking.

Six years old, kidnapped, mutilated and buried.

2015©isadoradelavega

 

 

Genre – Fiction

Word Count – 100

PHOTO PROMPT – ©sandra cook

The challenge is to write a story in 100 words – beginning, middle and end.

To join in the challenge – click here

 


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Friday Fictioneers – Roast Pork and Wild Mushrooms

erin-leary.web

Will taking Victoria to the farm this weekend be a mistake?

Mama insisted he go to college in the big city after Paw died.

He knew he’d be back once he got his agricultural degree.

But, would this city gal he adored want that too?

He felt pride as he showed Victoria around the farm.

Suddenly, stopping and pointing, she asked, “What’s that?”

Those are wild mushrooms growing in dung.

She crinkled her nose with disapproval.

They talked with his brothers and family while Mama brought in dinner.

“Roast pork with wild mushrooms,” she announced.

Victoria crinkled her nose, again.

2015©written by isadoradelavega

 

 

 

 

Genre – Fiction

Word Count – 100

PHOTO PROMPT – © Erin Leary

The challenge is to write a story in 100 words – beginning, middle and end.

To join in the challenge – click here