Jewish Persecution

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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

TREDEGAR 1911

Tears streamed from my papa’s eyes, soaking his beard. “For this we fled Russia—to be slaughtered in Wales?”

I trembled. Last night I’d hidden under my bed, covering my ears to blot out angry shouts and the crash of shattering glass.

“Thank the Almighty we are alive,” said Mama.

“Ha! If God lived on the earth, the goyim would break His windows, too.”

At that moment a Christian youth entered our tailor shop, head bowed, and handed Papa a banknote. “Father sends his apologies.” The boy took a broom from the floor. “Perhaps we can help rebuild.”

For more on the history CLICK HERE

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Thank you, Dale for such a lovely review on LAST DANCE WITH ANNIE! 😀

This week Pegman takes us to Abaco, Bahamas. You won’t find much in the way of streetview out in this neck of the Bahamas. Mainly because you won’t find much in the way of streets. You can use the photo provided, or dangle Pegman over the map to find your own slice of paradise.

Your mission is to write 150 words inspired by what you find. Will you treat us to comedy? Tragedy? Sci Fi Slipstream Historical Fiction? Your only limit is your imagination. And of course the previously mentioned 150 words. Once you’ve polished your story-poem-essay, share it with other Pegman contributors using the link up below.

The pictures of the beaches and the ocean took me back to the Virgin Islands where I fell in love with snorkeling 😀 My story has absolutely nothing to do with that. 😉 As always thank you to Karen and Josh for facilitating the challenge that keeps drawing me in for the extra 50 word plunge.

Genre: Speculative Fantasy

Word Count: 150

PILGRIMAGE

“You never cease to amaze me,” said Dale.

Shrugging my blazing shoulders, I replied. “You mean my faulty memory? Oy, I wish I’d remembered my sunscreen this afternoon.”

Waves gently lapped the shore as sand and water squished between my bare toes. Moonlight sparkled on the water like sequins under a spotlight.

Dreams of meeting my friend sans Skype screen had finally become a reality. Nights of girl-talk followed days of sightseeing, sampling Bahamian food and snorkeling.

“Thanks for accompanying me to services tonight,” I said.

“Wouldn’t have missed it. I loved the music.”

“The shul’s named after Luis de Torres, Christopher Columbus’ interpreter—first Jew to set foot on the island—a Marrano—convert. 1492 was the middle of the Inquisition so his choices were become a Catholic or—”

“Leave it to you.”

“What?”

“One synagogue, 50 Jews and you managed to find them.”

“Shabbat shalom, mon amie.”