Inside the Mind of Isadora

Tag Archives: #photoprompt


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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

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

click here

~~~~~~~~~

***** 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 – 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: 

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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 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.


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Friday Fictioneers – It’s Time to Say Goodbye

 

You left. 

Your books left behind as a reminder of your passion; reading.

 And, I spent time building something that could not be built. 

You showed me I’d counted on the illusion of my heart. 

Yes, perhaps, it’s time to say goodbye my love. 

These words you dared not want to hear. 

For our lives together can’t be built on crumbly silt of sand. 

For it would fall upon itself because we tried and failed, persisting in the dream, because I believed it would succeed.

It’s hard to distinguish whether the world we live in is a reality or delusion.

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt:©CEAyr

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

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Friday Fictioneers – Bring on the Waves

Belinda was the singer in the group. Tonight, her timing was off.

Could it be too much tequila?

‘Mi Pueblo’ had the most delicious margarita’s. She had to have two.

Each failed attempt at singing left her in giggles. 

She’d needed this night out with friends.

The car accident had left her wheelchair bound.

She’d been depressed about it again. 

Thoughts poured into her head quicker than she could get them out sometimes.

Spontaneously, the raucous group decided on a beach open-air sing-a-long.

They raced to the edge of the ocean.

“Bring on the waves,” Belinda shouted.

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Word Count: 100 words

Genre: Flash Fiction

Photo Prompt©LindaKreger

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and her Friday Fictioneers click here

Margarita: a beverage served with tequila and other tasty additions.

The glass rim is coated with salt.

 


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Friday Fictioneers – The Ordeal

She hated them. All of them! 

They hid behind their masks, worn as a disguise.

She knew what they had in mind. They couldn’t fool her.

With each spasm, an electrical jolt ran through her body.

How much more could she endure?

Aching, throbbing, electrifying pains on every inch of her skin.

She screamed. Her screams meant nothing. They only helped encourage their wretched abuse. 

The glint from their eyes, above their masks, along with encouraging words meant nothing to her during these agonizing bloody moments.

When she thought she could endure no more, “A son,” they said.

2019©Isadora DeLaVega

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Genre: Flash Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words

Photo Prompt©DaleRogerson

 

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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

 

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

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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

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

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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.