Inside the Mind of Isadora

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Friday Fictioneers – The End of the Road

We bickered about off-road adventures from the moment we made our plane reservations.

“Where’s you sense of adventure?”

“I don’t have any”.

“You promised you’d come along and not gripe. The taxi driver said to follow the dirt road and we’d find the little out-of-the-way hostel”.

“Umm … I’m not an expert hiker but this sign is telling us something”.

“I’ll look down the side of the cliff. You know, get my bearings”.

The panic on his face said it all.

On the jagged black mountain cliff, lay the charming little cottage they called, ‘Sheer Drop Inn’.

2018©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: Bjorn Rudberg

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Friday Fictoneers – Institutionalized

Venom flowed through her veins. Hate was a mild word for what she felt for him.

She had him taken to an institution. He would be there for life.

Her mother died shortly before he was placed there. Doctors said her frail body was from malnutrition and improper medical care. At 88, she needed home health care. Instead, her mentally challenged son was her only caretaker.

Why was she angry at him?

It helped soothe her guilt.

Banned from his mothers funeral by her, he raged. The perfect storm for him to be taken away.

Lord grant her soul redemption.

2018©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: Sandra Cook

 

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Footprints in the Snow

Everyone was beginning to get cabin fever.

How much longer could they be snowed in without tempers flaring?

The wood pile was getting low. Soon, they’d have to go outside and chop some more.

A chill swept through Helga’s spine. It would be her luck to lose when they were choosing who’d collect the fire wood next.

She was happy to be away from them, even for a short time. She couldn’t bear having Niklaus around. He was being crudely salacious.

Helga turned.

Footprints in the snow appeared behind her.

“Niklaus,” she screeched.

Frightened, she ran.

2018©Isadora DeLaVega

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

 

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Hidden Deep Inside

The closet door flung open.

“What are you doing in there?”, he growled.

Before I could answer, I was being pulled up by my hair and pushed towards the kitchen.

“Get in there and help your mother.”

I guess he doesn’t want to know.

“See what happens when you hide from work,” she said.

Hide from work? How about I was hiding from the jump rope he just beat me with while you were talking to Mrs. Rosen about styling her wig.

There’s a place I go to tell my troubles. Hidden deep inside the closet is my peaceful place.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: Rochelle

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*****In 2015, an estimated 1,670 children died from abuse and neglect in the United States. In 2015, Children’s Advocacy Centers around the country served more than 311,0002 child victims of abuse, providing victim advocacy and support to these children and their families. info:wikipedia
For more information click here: http://www.nationalchildrensalliance.org/media-room/media-kit/national-statistics-child-abuse/

 


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Friday Fictioneers – First Car


“Mason?” “Are you ready?”

“Yeah Dad!”

“The dealership said you can pick-up the car. Its’ ready.”

“OK.”

A few hours later Mason drives up in his new 2017 VW.

Shocked, his Dad runs out faster than a cheetah running after prey.

“What the hell is this?”

“You see Dad, the car dealer told me, if I took his deal immediately I could have the VW with the old ford trade-in”.

“You’re not going to drive around college in a 2017 car.”

“But Dad, can’t we talk about this?”

“No, first car is always used.”

“Let’s take it back.”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flas Fiction

Word Count: 100

Photo Prompt: Kent Bonham

 

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Friday Fictioneers – A Small Stone

He stood at the door of 28909 Rue de Jardin. Memories flooded his mind. He’d never imagined seeing this house again.

Why had his father left it to him?

They hadn’t spoken in forty years. He was ten. His mother had divorced him immediately after she discovered his affair. Her broken heart finally erased by her suicide.

Sitting with Clarice, the now 90 year old mistress, in the large windowed parlor he remembered the park view from his bedroom. The wounds still felt razor deep.

He placed a stone on the gravestone; softly murmuring, “Ikh bin dir mühl. Hasholem Aaron Steinman”.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 101 words
Photo Prompt: Janet Webb

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~~~~~

*****I forgive you in Yiddish – ikh bin dir mühl

*****Rest in Peace in Yiddish – hasholem

***** Within the Jewish faith, it is customary to leave a small stone on a grave. Placing the stone on a grave serves as a sign to others that someone has visited the grave. It also enables visitors to partake in the mitzvah tradition commemorating the burial of the deceased. Stones are a fitting symbol of the lasting presence of the departed life. info©shiva.com


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Footprints in the Sand

The sun is sparkling over the crystal turquoise water. It’s warm as I lie on the sand staring at the sky. A warm sensation fills me with extraordinary peace. I feel free. I’m in the center of this beautiful landscape.

Colorful sailboats skim across the water. Beautifully dressed flamingos settle by the water’s edge. They resemble little gentlemen wearing pink shirts with yellow spotted ties. I watch them for some time. Their pink bodies blending with the turquoise water.

Upon a mossy tree filled mound sits a young man painting. His brush capturing footprints left behind on the grey speckled sand.

As sunset begins, he picks up another canvas ready to paint the night sky. The sky changes from a sunny yellow and blue to pink, red and orange. Stars dot the darkness. I’m feeling exuberant as I watch the changes. Another day’s set. Tomorrow, the exquisite scenery will return.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Short Story
Word Count: 150
Photo Prompt: aFrank

aFa Writing Challenge – Footprints in the Sand

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Friday Fictioneers – The Value of Time

Time was forever escaping Nereida. She needed to complete her thesis for graduation. Her research had been done. Now, all she had to do was organize it and her thoughts.

Time was moving quickly forward with each passing hour. She was following close behind. Her hopes and dreams depended on this final work. She’d been through years and years of studies to reach this goal she had set for herself.

She doodled. Tapped her pencil. Chewed on her pen. An empty mind was not what she needed at this time.

Phone rang.

Mom?

After, she was back on track again.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: Claire Sheldon

 

 

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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

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge

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