Insanity

The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.

Genre: All-Too-Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 100

MOURNING HAS BROKEN

Ubon sloshed through a puddle, stirring the leaves floating on the water. Why had she been so harsh with him that morning?

***

“Banyat!” She smacked his bottom. “Hurry!”

“Mamaaa, please. Don’t make me go. I miss my old school.”

His shrill whine angered her. “Do you want Mama to get fired?”

“Yes,” he replied with four-year-old logic. “Then we can stay home and play.”

***

Standing in the deserted playground, Ubon’s heart ached. What could provoke someone to slaughter babies?

“Mama? Why are you crying?”

She swept him up in her arms and held him close. “I’m so glad we moved.”

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Heartwarming and heartwrenching resolutions.

The following photo is the PROMPT. Can you get lost in it? What kind of story does it tell you? Share it in a hundred words or less.

My story follows the prompt and the blue inLinkz frog. I appreciate honest comments and constructive crit.

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Melanie Greenwood

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Perhaps it seems I’m late to the party as last week, 27 January, commemorated the seventieth anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. In my opinion, every day is a good time to remember.

Shalom,

Rochelle

***

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100

YIZKOR

There is a museum in Jerusalem called Yad Vashem. Although I live five miles from it, I’ve never wanted to visit.

“Come with me, Hannah,” says Zvi. “The candles are pretty.”

My brother is relentless.

“No, Zvi. Let me forget.”

_________

The maze of mirrors is filled with reflections of six candle flames.

“Shoshana Stein, six years old. Romania.”

Disembodied voices intone names in an endless requiem for the dead.

“Moishe Lapinsky, sixteen years old. Poland.”

One point five million children murdered.

“Zvi Goldberg. Four years old. Ukraine.”

At my brother’s name, I sink to my knees.

I will never forget.

The names I used in my story are fictitious. The names in the following snippet are real. Haunting in its simplicity, the candle room is an experience I’ll never forget.