WeWriWa is Here Again

The weekend is here, which means… WeWriWa! You must write either 8 sentences for prose or 150 word limit for poetry. Lots of great writers participate. You can check em out via ze button above.

For those who are new, I am continuing my story about Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert. For understanding the backstory, go here. For previous installments: Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five, Part six, Part seven and Part eight. Last time we ended with Hagar just about to kill her son, Ishmael.

Expulsion of Ishmael and His Mother, from Gustave Doré’s illustrated Bible of 1866. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Hagar!” a strange voice cried. Confused, I dropped the rock and looked about wildly, but saw nothing.

“Hagar” the voice came again, soothing and gentle like the sudden cool breeze. “Dry your eyes: God has heard you. Take Ishmael by the hand, and go on.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks, “Where shall we go? We have no more water: I cannot watch my heart die before my eyes.”

I think one or two more Wewriwa’s and this story will be done (crazy i knoooow). Thoughts, fb, etc are always welcome. Have a good weekend guys

Banishment and WeWriWa

When did fall arrive? Life has been insane with a new job, so this story has been on the backburner.  But here we are at WeWriWa! You must write either 8 sentences for prose or 150 word limit for poetry. Lots of great writers participate. You can check em out via ze button above.

For those who are new, I am continuing my story about Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert. For understanding the backstory, go here. For previous installments: Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five, Part six and Part seven.  

In the morning, Abram came to my tent. Though he forbade me to follow the camp, his eyes couldn’t meet mine. I let him go without a word: there was nothing left to say.

That day, I gathered water and food, enough to last a few days. Though shocked, I hoped we could get back to Beersheba.

Days later, here we are, no city or well in sight. All I have to offer my son is freedom and my two hands. So I raise them up and offer him this last gift.

tbc

I know, mean author, but more to come soon!  Thoughts, feedback, are always appreciated 🙂

 

Français : Agar et Ismaël dans le désert (1820) de François-Joseph Navez (1787-1869). Musées royaux des beaux-Arts de Belgique, Bruxelles (Belgique) Nederlands: Agar en Ismaël in de woestijn (1820) door François-Joseph Navez (1787-1869). Koninklijke Musea voor Schone Kunsten van België, Brussel (België) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The Storm Was Coming…WeWriWa

Happy Labor Day Weekend! I’ve been too silent on this story, but it’s time  another installment of WeWriWa. You must write either 8 sentences or 150 word limit for poetry. Lots of great writers participate. You can check em out via ze button above.

For those who are new, I am continuing my story about Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert. For understanding the backstory, go here. For previous installments: Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five, and Part six. The end is coming, I promise!  Where we are now: Hagar is flashing back to life while Sarai is pregnant.

I thought she would sell us off in Beersheba. Though I held my breathe, we passed all seven wells. Hope whispered that we would be okay.  Sarai’s child would come, and the storm would pass. But then the storm came.

Her screams filled the camp, shattering the night’s silence. I quieted Ishmael back to sleep, but my eyes couldn’t close. We were going to be abandoned, worse, in the driest part of the desert.

Comments, feedback, questions as always welcomed. Thanks again for reading and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Back to the Desert

It’s Saturday which means time for another installment of WeWriWa. You must write either 8 sentences or 150 word limit for poetry. Lots of great writers participate. You can check em out via ze button above.

For those who are new, I am continuing my story about Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert. For understanding the backstory, go here. For previous installments: Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, and Part five. Can’t believe how long this is getting! Hopefully it will be finished over the next few weeks. Where we are now: Hagar is flashing back to life while Sarai is pregnant.

Rating: G totally sfw

Life went on: we roamed with the sheep and Sarai’s belly grew round as the months passed. Though a miracle, it was no easy pregnancy. She struggled to keep any food down. She needed me more than ever, though never at night.

Previously, I had slept in her tent, even during my own pregnancy. She claimed I snored, though she shared Abram’s tent. Whispers of Sarai’s strange dreams moved through the camp and her strange fear for her baby. Though haunted with an ill feeling, I watched the future come towards me as her pregnancy lengthened.

feedback, thoughts, questions always welcomed. Thanks for reading and have a great weekend!

The Beginning of the End

Happy Monday! I hope you are all having a lovely day. I enjoyed a fabulous weekend, including a small wine and cheese get together with some awesome friends. Good food and conversation is always a good time.

Today is the last installment of The Unruly Rib have to say I’m really happy with how it came out.  Part 1 can be found here and part two is here. Feedback and thoughts are always welcomed.

The Unruly Rib

No warnings today

IV.

Expelled to the harsh wild earth was the first time I felt at home. The tall jagged mountains piercing the skyline, the wind strong against my back. My lungs full for the first time, reassured by this wild open space.

“Eve? Are you even listening to me??” Adam yelled, jarring me from this new world.

I turn to him. He seemed so petty, so small. “What?”

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be –”

“Last time I checked you ate willingly.”

“And you were always sighing, always disgruntled, always dissatisfied. You couldn’t be happy with what we had.

“Yes!!” I screamed, “I was miserable and all you did was tell me I was crazy. You didn’t listen, you just tried to make it go away. Food, sleep, even sex. Eden bored me. So I took an opportunity. I made my choice, and I will live with it. Grow up and learn to live with yours.”

He looked at me disgusted, “We had everything. What more could you have wanted?”

“Freedom” I whispered, finally stumbling upon my truth.

“Enjoy it” he said bitterly, “Because we can’t go back.”

How much blame would I have to take for his actions?

“I started this.” I admitted, “I’ll accept that. You asked what it was. I was honest and open. You took the fruit from me and brought it to your own lips. You are the reason you are not Eden, not me, not the snake. You. I won’t stand her to carry the blame for all of your fucking actions.”

So I walked onward towards the jagged mountains. He didn’t follow. Lying under the stars, I found the word lonely, curved on my tongue like the sickle moon.

V.

Life in the wilderness was not easy. My feet ached from walking. My shoulders were sore from carrying the deer to eat and make my clothes. Still each bruise and ache reminded me of what I had achieved. I knew how small I was in the world. Yet I felt grounded from that same knowing.

Fruit tasted sweeter found on a rare bush. I learned that I love the taste of rabbit, but hate dove. My feet  followed the Tigris, and her flow southward. Tasting her cool water was a blessing after a long day’s walk.

The wild earth spoke to me. Through trial and error I made my own way. I held no dominion, no special status. Strength and wit earned me a place in the wild order of creation. Through survivaI found worthiness. With each day’s work my heart sung.

But the moon whispered complications. When once my blood came regularly with her full face, it now had stopped. My breasts became tender to touch. A new generation is coming the wind whispered. Life was beginning again. Not by God’s hand, but through me. Through Adam.

Adam who used to smile at me, as though I were the whole world. When he kissed me, I forgot that something still felt wrong. He was my other half.  I felt a raw and deep ache without him.

I couldn’t sleep now. I would lay awake, staring up at the stars. Though I was content with my labors, it wasn’t complete. Life made less sense alone.

Perhaps he would never want me again. So be it. But, he deserved this choice. To know his child and choose his future. And so did I.

So I rose with the sun, nervous but certain in my decision. I set my feet to follow the pull of my oldest rib. I prayed it would be enough to find him again.

VI.

“Eve?”

“Hello Adam”

Fin

 

Weekend Warriors Returns!

Hello!  I took a bit of a hiatus from Weekend Warriors, but I have returned 🙂 My Adam and Eve story will continue next week with the last installment.

You must write either 8 sentences or 150 word limit for poetry. Lots of great writers participate. You can check em out via ze button above.

For those who are new, I am continuing my story about Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert. For understanding the backstory, go here. For previous installments: Part one, Part two, Part three and Part four

The memories of his short life came back to me. The first time he smiled, and I fell even more in love. The way his eyes widened in joy at riding a camel for the first time. Even when he was stubborn or sick, I couldn’t help but feel amazed at my son. Despite everything, I was blessed to be a part of creation, of such wondrous beginnings.

Fear crept in at the wondrous miracle of Sarai’s pregnancy. We all sang and danced for her joy, but I felt her eyes upon me. I had no words, only the cool dread in my blood, and my tightening gut.

 

Thoughts, feedback, always welcome! Also a self-portrait I did recently. I feel it echos Hagar’s self reflection through this piece

I love the vulnerability and obscurity in the light

Eden Continued…

Hey Y’all! Happy humpday. This is a continuation of my story about Adam & Eve’s expulsion from Eden. I think this format gave me the push needed: I am almost done with the story! Part 1 can be found here. Today I am posting parts 2 and 3. The rest should be out on Friday!  I hope you enjoy.

Warning: this contradicts much of Christian theology around the story of Adam and Eve.  As a Jew, I have always found the Christian idea of “Original Sin” troubling. This is in no way trying to criticize any other school of thought.  But this could be disturbing if you espouse those ideas strongly.

The Unruly Rib (Continued)

II.

I was born both too soon and too late. I became after the cusp of creation. I was the last one made. I ushered in the era of stagnation.

Day in and day out felt the same. The sun would rise and so would we. If hunger clawed at us, we would pick from the trees. The rivers were clean and cool, perfect to quench our thirst. Life was easy and smooth. Still, I felt something itched just under my skin. Enough to make my eyes seek the horizon.

“What is it?” He whispered one night as we lay beneath a blanket of stars.

I turned to him, “Do you ever feel like something is…missing?”

His eyes grew confused, “such as?”

Sighing, “I don’t know.”

He wrapped his arms around me, yawning, “just need sleep”

“Perhaps” I whispered, eyes wide open to the stars.

Dawn broke beautiful and bright as always. Adam woke with a smile. I felt my lips curve, but the smile missed my eyes.

III.

“What ailssss you Eeeve?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Perhhhapsss a naap will help”

“I have slept enough, thank you serpent”

“You seeeem ssssso upssset, my dear.”

“What a wise observation. Adam just doesn’t understand. He says the same things as you. There’s no point in talking about this”

“Perhapsss wissssdom could help”

“What?”

“To find the ssssolution you need to underssssstand the problemmm.”

“God doesn’t answer when I call out.”

“You don’t need God to gain thisssss. But it comesss with a prissssse.”

“What is it?”

“Jusssst one bite.”

—

Thanks for reading! Thoughts, comments and constructive criticism always appreciated 🙂

A New Story and New Format…

Hey y’all! Happy Moooondaaaaay. I hope y’all had a good weekend, because I certainly had fun!

As far as writing? I have a story I’m working on…but it’s decided to be slow going. So I am trying out serializing it. Hopefully it will motivate my muse.  How do you find inspiration when stuck? I often go for walks or knit for a bit. But would love to hear what you do when facing the blank page.

Anywho: onto the story!

The Unruly Rib

I.

The day our world changed was the first time I saw rain. Between knowing and expulsion, these perplexing cool drops slid down my skin. Shivering for the first time, I felt the pinprick of cold.

Adam looked up, the rain mixing with the juice running down his chin. “What have we done?” He gasped, his eyes full of horror.

I shivered and tried not to smile. All I saw was beginning.  Uncertainty, I think you call it now. I called it possibility. It was sweet and new on my tongue.

“We made choices” I said, my eyes held firmly. I forced nothing on him. The fruit came from my palm. I was the renegade explorer, but he followed me, willingly. Now his eyes only held sorrow at our actions. Later, he would call it regret. As though rolling it in his mouth could make time move back.

As the rains came for the first time, I felt solid on my own two feet. As though I were made for this moment. That my life had finally begun.

 Thoughts, constructive critique, and fb always appreciated!!

Memories in the Desert: Weekend Warriors

It’s Saturday and time for another Weekend Writing Warriors! You must write either 8 sentences or 150 word limit for poetry. Lots of great writers participate. You can check em out via ze button above.

For those who are new, I am continuing my story about Hagar and Ishmael in the Desert. For understanding the backstory, go here. For previous installments: Part one, Part two, and Part three

Synopsis so far: Hagar and Ishmael are wandering the desert. They have no water. Hagar is becoming desperate and has decided to kill her son out of mercy. She’s in flashbacks now, recalling the events that led up to this moment

Within the year, Ishmael was born. Standing on the bricks, Sarai’s encouragement barely pierced the pain. Every muscle tensing, pushing as I tried to bring my baby to life. After a night full of agony, he arrived.

I can’t forget the first time I saw him: he was small, with a head full of hair. Holding him in my arms, I knew. I had always known him, always loved him. We were just waiting to meet.

As always, thoughts, critique, or questions are always welcomed!

The Distance Between Me and You

Hello! Happy Early Fourth of July to my fellow Americans. It’s one of my favorite holidays to celebrate in DC. The fireworks on the national mall are amazing. Just don’t take your dog… bad personal experience.

Today, I have a more experimental short story for you.  Really proud of how this came out. But warning: Angst ahead.

Rating: PG, although adult themes.

The Incalculable Distance Between Earth and the Statosphere

I.

He left us last night,
bag in hand and
abandoned
this world at 9 am,
burning his
way through
the stratosphere.
Each time, Billy
claps as Daddy’s
rocket presses
through, I sit
back, my
throat catches.
Breathe returns only
when he’s a spec,
safe in the dark.
II.

He tasted different when  he returned from space. In the beginning, it unnerved me. In the privacy of night, my hands and mouth sought him out. The planes of his body felt the same, reassuring my hands. But when I breathed in his scent or tasted his skin, I encountered a stranger. One full of mint and metal not the allspice and sandalwood I fell in love with.

I gasped the first time, turned on a light in my confusion. It was his face beside me, his weight sinking the bed. Still, my body felt confused. Who was in my bed?

“What is it?” he murmured, warm hands cradling my face.

I laughed at my own nervousness. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re home.”

Now, my nose and tongue welcome these scents. They are the bits he brings back from the darkness. They tell me he’s home again, real and safe.

 

III.
Conversations I wish I never overheard

 

“Daaad?”

“Yes Billy?”

“Why are you staring at the moon? You’re there all the tiiiime.”

“Well, it just looks different from here.”

“The moon’s the moon. It can’t be thaat different.”

“Yes and no…Yes and no.”

IV.

The bag I pack:
One pair of pants pressed and folded
One button down Oxford for Houston
One leather belt
Five knockaround shirts (always included: Georgetown and Tulane)
Three, no two pairs of sweats. (too many last time)
One Sweatshirt
10 pairs of boxers
5 pairs of flannel socks
Toothbrush
Floss
One handkerchief with one spritz of my perfume (he’s never asked, I’ve never explained. We agree in the silence)

The bag he packs:
One copy of Moby Dick, creased and worn
One black notebook
Two photographs

• One: It’s me and him on our honeymoon. The sun is bright on our faces, he’s picked me up. We’re both    laughing

• Two: Billy and I sit across the table. Billy is four, and explaining something with his hands wild in the air. A smile plays on my lips as I sneak a glance at the camera.

One grey river stone, smooth, worn.

I want to be assured by the weight he carries with him. But there’s no gravity in space.

V.

The sounds of separation

 

Zip. Zip. Zip.

Did you?

Yes

And?

That too. Besides, it’s time for you to go. (deep breathe) Billy! Come say goodbye!

(slow shuffle)

Do you have to go Daddy?

I wish I didn’t, but I have to.

When will you be baaack?

Three weeks. Think you can be good til then?

I’ll try

Love ya kiddo.

Love ya too

(six feet walk towards the door. Four walk through. It squeaks open and closed)

I’ll miss you (sniffle)

I’ll miss you too

(Kiss)

Be safe

I’ll be back soon

(two feet walk down to the car. One door opens and closes. Ignition starts. The car rumbles away.)

VI.

Sometimes I wish I could call you in space. I could tell you how Billy wouldn’t go to sleep last night. Or that I ran into Mrs. Jones. She once again asked where you were. She still doesn’t believe you are an astronaut, or that you exist at all.

But phone calls would cause more problems. Billy would cry, missing you even more. Would the connection even work? I imagine trying to talk over white noise. Feeling further and further from you.

Secretly, I don’t want the option. You go somewhere further than outer space. There’s a room inside you with space for one. A room made of metal, and filled with mint. I don’t want to hear your voice, so close and yet far away. My heart would break to see your eyes, but not you inside them.

Instead, I wait. I count the days til you break through the stratosphere. Pray to the moon you will come back to me. So far you have. Still, I hold my breath. Waiting.