Tag Archives: Blog Party

Hospitality

I have nothing for this day – sorry guys – I am tired, sad and empty of ideas.

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Fidelity

PenFireSmall“No,” he says, “I will not be part of this.” The faces around him smirk. Mutters. Then one by one they turn around and walk away. Finally he is alone with the girl. She is curled up in a corner of the shack, clothes torn, skin bruised, face streaked with tears. He walks over to her, crouches beside her, takes off his coat and tries to wrap it around her. She shrinks back, panic in her eyes. He tries to smile, but his face is frozen in anger. He backs away a step, drops the coat where she can reach it. She grabs it and wriggles into it, eyes not leaving his face even to blink.

“Why?” her voice is slurred and hoarse. “you could have taken as much as the others, why did you not?”

Why had he not, he wonders. After all, she is just a girl from the projects, no-one of consequence. Happens all the time, doesn’t it? So why had he not? Images flashes by. The whole ugly scene replays. He shakes his head to rid it of what he has seen. That is it. Because it is ugly. Because it is not right.

“Because it is not who I am.” He finally says.

This is part of the Reflections at the Magick Tree 12 days of Yule Blog Party

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Truth

PenTorah175x175The market place is full of people, despite the cold. The smells and sounds whisk by him. He better hurry, Mother is waiting for the potatoes. They will have latkes today, tonight is Chanukah. Isser likes latkes. Before Father died, they used to have applesauce with the latkes on Chanukah. His little sister has never had applesauce with latkes. He looks for the green grocer’s stall. There is long line. Everyone is stamping their feet and huddling in layers of clothes against the biting wind. Crates full of pickled vegetables line the path to the green grocer’s stall. Just beside him is small crate with jars of applesauce. If only Mother’s coins were not so few, he ponders and looks at the rows of small jars. A few steps and he can reach out and touch the jars. He runs his fingers over them with longing, thinks of his little sister and Mother’s latkes. A glance up and down the line he sees no one looking his way. A jar passes down into his coat pocket. He steps away from the crate and moves with the line, closer to the green grocer.

“Thief, thief!” An old woman shouts. His stomach knots, his face burns. He looks around, sees people avoiding his gaze. He leaves the line and hurries away. Mother’s shopping bag flaps empty against his leg. A hand grabs him from behind.

“Come here, you little thief!” It’s Mendel, the Beadle. “You are going to the Rabbi!” Mendel’s hand feels around in his pockets. Finds the jar of applesauce. He grabs Isser by the scruff of his coat. The boy doesn’t resist. How can he? It is true. He is a thief. People turn, point and whisper. His Mother’s shopping flapping empty against his leg. The beadle knocks on the Rabbi’s door. The boy shivers beneath his coat. The door opens and the Rabbi looks down at him.

“What is it?” The Rabbi looks from Isser to Mendel the Beadle.

“The boy is a thief, Rabbi, he stole this from the green grocer,” the Beadle holds up the small jar with applesauce. The Rabbi looks back down at Isser.

“Who is this boy?” The Rabbi keeps looking at Isser.

“Isser, Dov the Tinker’s son.” The Beadle says.

“Isn’t his mother Gittel a widow?” The Rabbi asks.

“Yes,” the Beadle answers, “it’s been four years. The Beadle loosens his grip on the boy’s coat.

“Did you steal it, Isser?”

“Yes.” Isser nods and looks at his worn shoes.

“I see,” the Rabbi says, “why did you steal it, Isser?”

The boy shuffles his feet.

“For my sister, for Chanukah, Rabbi,” he says in a whisper.

“For Chanukah, you say, and your mother sent you for potatoes so you can have latkes, yes?”

“Yes.” The boy looks up at the Rabbi. “My sister has never had applesauce with latkes, Rabbi.”

“Hm, I see. So you stole the applesauce so she can have it with her latkes tonight?”

“Yes, Rabbi.” Isser moves his feet over the snow.

“Wait here Isser,” the Rabbi says, “Mendel come with me.” The two men disappear into the Rabbi’s House. Isser tries not to hear what they say. He thinks about his Mother, waiting at home for the potatoes, and of his little sister. The Rabbi’s voice drifts through the open door.

“I know Mendel. The truth is that Isser stole a jar of applesauce. Still we must ask why he did it to get at the perfect Truth. The Holy One, Blessed is He, judges everything on merit, and so must we. Truth is that Isser stole the applesauce for his sister, because it is Chanukah tonight and his mother has few coins to spare.”

Isser cannot hear what Mendel the Beadle answers. The two men comes back out. He dares not look at them. Mendel the Beadle puts something in his pocket. He can feel the form against his hand. The jar with applesauce! He looks at the Beadle. Mendel the Beadle smiles and nods.

“Isser,” the Rabbi says, “run and buy the potatoes your Mother needs for latkes. Tell the green grocer I will talk with him shortly. Gut Yontiff!”


This is part of the Reflections at the Magick Tree 12 days of Yule Blog Party

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Courage

DoorWaterPen175x175“Give me my bag!” His bag rustle from hand to hand just out of his reach.

“Come and take it, you dumb kike!” Laughter.

“Give me my bag, the books in it  belong to the library, give it to me!” He reaches for the bag when  it passes through the air.

“Ooh, the kike has been to the library, the kike can read, the kike thinks he is better than us!” The bag lands on the snow. Books all over the snow. More laughter.

A rustle of clothes. Silence.

“Leave him alone!” Hands help him pick up the books.

“Thanks.”

This is part of the Reflections at the Magick Tree 12 days of Yule Blog Party

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Disappointed

This is the first and last year I participate in a Yule Blog Party…the only one who has commented on my 12 Days of Yule entries is Ket:( – and the ‘organizer’ had some badness in the family and has not even posted the list of the participants…

Well it’s just my luck I guess.

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Winter Solstice

WinterSolsticeShe grabs her two children and her small pack from the deck beside her. The cold winter wind rips through her clothes. Looking down the gangway she follows her husband into this new land. So many noises, smells and sights batter her senses. Fear ripples through her heart and mind. Ezra has a commission to build a cathedral in the spring. What will there be for her and the children? she wonders. What good will her calendar be, here in the far north where the sun either never rises or never sets? She takes a firmer hold of the pack, hears the candlesticks clatter against each other. Tomorrow is Shabbat. Will she get everything ready in only six hours of daylight? “Shekinah”, she whispers as she steps onto the snow-covered dock , “Bearer of Burdens and Eternal Presence, just get me through the cold, that will be enough.”

This is part of the Reflections at the Magick Tree 12 days of Yule Blog Party

 

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Mother’s Night

MothersNightShe’d dug the den just before the ice broke, it’s her first. It’d had been a good year. Plenty of seals. Now she’s waiting, half asleep beneath the snow. They should be here any time now, her body’s rhythmic signals tells her this. Within the rhythm of her half sleep she wonders what they will be like. She knows they will be two. She’s known since she dug the den. Here comes the first. So small! She moves a little to give him room to find her teat. He smells funny. She didn’t think he’d smell so…real. Here comes the other. A little girl! She too smells funny. It is done. She has completed the task given to her by her mother and her mother before her. Drifting down into the layers of her inner den, she smiles contentedly.

This is part of the Reflections at the Magick Tree 12 days of Yule Blog Party

Here’s my Wife’s corresponding post:

Blue Annis

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