Portugal

All posts tagged Portugal

THE FINAL SOLUTION

Published August 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Pena, Portugal.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Note that there is both streetview and photospheres at this location.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

A view of Pena National Palace – Welcome to Portugal

If you think you’re seeing double, you are. 😉 I’m double dipping this week. The following is also an expanded Friday Fictioneers story I posted two years ago. When I saw Pegman in Portugal, I decided this one fit. When I saw that some of the commentors from that time are now participating in Pegman I decided to post update and earlier piece. By the afternoon I decided to post this one, too. It’s as old as time and as current as today’s newscast. 😦

Shalom,

Rochelle

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE FINAL SOLUTION

            “These madmen rob us of everything we’ve worked so hard for—our tapestries, jewelry and, even our furniture.” Leah fingered the yellow badge sewn on her cape. “If that’s not enough, they brand us like cattle and you do nothing.”

            “What can I do?” Abraham rubbed a painful lump on the back of his head. “One taste of Jewish blood sends them into frenzy, like rabid dogs. Finish packing. We set sail in the morning while we still can.”

            Leah held a golden bracelet to her breast. “They cannot have this. It belonged to my grandmother, may her memory be blessed.”

            Abraham’s heart thrashed against his ribs. “Leave it! What’s a bauble when our people are being exterminated like cockroaches?”

            The bracelet fell from her fingers and she collapsed into his arms. “España is our home.”

            “Querida, you are my home. 1493 in Portugal—it will be a better year.”

There’s nothing new under the sun.

THE JUMPING FLEA

Published August 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Pena, Portugal.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Note that there is both streetview and photospheres at this location.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson for hosting this unique challenge and for giving me an extra 50 words to play with each week. 

This week I brought back one that I posted three years ago in Friday Fictioneers and added 50 words to it. I enjoyed the rewrite, I hope you enjoy the reread. 😉 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE JUMPING FLEA

            “Better to harvest the sugarcane fields in Hawaii than starve in Madeira,” João Fernandes told his reluctant wife. “You’ll see, we will have a better life there.”

            “Portugal is home. Português is the only language we speak.”

            “We’ll build a new home and learn a new language.”           

            During the monotonous, sometimes perilous, four months at sea she spent most of her time retching over the side of the ship.  He, on the other hand, entertained his fellow immigrants on the braguinha.

____

            Enamored with the new music form and João’s lively style, the Hawaiians treated him and his little guitar like royalty. Even Queen Lili’uokalani requested private evening concerts.

            One lonely night, homesick for her mountains, Senhora Fernandes waited up for him.

            At long last, he burst through the door. “Behold the queen’s favorite musician!”

            She seized his ukulele and smashed it to pieces over his head. “Behold your instrument!”

***

For your listening pleasure. It’s kind of long but, if you have an extra 6 minutes to spare. This is no tiptoe through the tulips.

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