elinka: (fish net)

Новые Правила

По принципу Махерского шоу.
В моём журнале нет места следующим словам:
ознакомиться )
Это мой журнал и я в нем устанавливаю правила. Не устраивает, прошу пройти мимо, благо журналов миллионы. Меня вовсе не обязательно френдить (пардон) в ответ. Я очень редко отвечаю взаимностью.
Organization and Table of Contents - Содержание )
elinka: (quill)
Untitled - Unedited



Morning so soon! Eyes shut, I pushed the snooze button on my alarm clock and pulled the blanket to tighter cover my still tired body against the chilled air. Ready to plunge back into the blessed unconsciousness of sleep, I felt something off in my daily waking routine, I knew right then I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. A new sensation, a beginning of a feeling found itself in the back of my mind preventing it from shutting off for an additional nine minutes of rest. Kicking off the covers, I probed the feeling this way and that, but unable to get rid of it, headed for the shower, my favorite place to think. Some people sing in the shower, others hum, and I talk as in the word association game. I usually start with the word water or soap or shampoo and withing several minutes produce hundreds of words until one strikes me as the end, then I try to traverse the chain back to the origin. This time my game stopped at the word ring, after which I came up dry and remembered. I remembered I had a dream which came unwoven in my inner eye like an epic motion picture spanning decades and continents. Unprepared for this newly found treasure, I barely dried myself and raced to the laptop in the dining room. Up there in the still accessible labyrinth of my brain a book laid in the open, with the beginning, middle and the end. All I had to do was to write it all down before the dream evaporated and I forgot.
the rest )
elinka: (quill)
Know Yourself published in the 2009 Summer Fiction Issue of US 1, Princeton, NJ
elinka: (quill)

            I walked through the arrival doors of the Newark international airport and searched the crowd.

            “There you are, little brother,” I heard from behind a tall man holding a sign and saw the crowd part like the Red sea and Daniel emerge, a typical Moses in a sheepskin coat and a hat. He always calls me his little brother, even though I am younger only by eight minutes. In the six months since I last saw him, Daniel grew a short beard, probably to compensate for the diminishing hair on top of his head. As fit as ever, or, maybe even fitter than before, he looked at ease and spoke English without an accent.

            “I am finally here,” I said and hugged him. “You don’t stand out from the crowd. Even with your tan never going away.”

            He grabbed my suitcase and propelled me toward the door leading to the parking lot. I was used to English spoken in Israel, but now, I felt an outsider.

            “I’m glad you came, Gabi,” Daniel’s arm still around my shoulder. “What exactly are you here to do?”

            “Assist our professor Levi, I guess.” I didn’t feel like going into details about my thesis, not yet.

            “Okay, I get it, you don’t want to talk about it. Later then.” Daniel stopped next to a grey Volvo and stuffed my suitcase in the trunk. “Do you have a coat? Don’t you know it’s winter here in February? I can’t believe Mom let you go without a coat.”

            “It slipped my mind, actually. And parents didn’t see me off.” Only now I realized how freezing it was outside. I got inside the car and quickly slammed the door shut.

            “Never mind, you can wear mine, I have another one at the apartment.” Daniel took of his sheepskin, threw it to me, and sat in the driver’s seat.

            “But you will freeze. Can’t I buy a coat here?”

            “Sure you can, but it’s Sunday night and stores close early on Sunday.  Believe me, I know what I am talking about.”  Driving through a maze of streets with signs overhead, Daniel got us to a wide highway.

            I marveled at the number of cars and trucks on the roads, at the white flat snowflakes coming down and covering everything in sight.

            “Let’s drop your stuff at the apartment and grab dinner.” Alex tossed a cigarette butt out his window and turned on a radio. He listened to a newscast for a minute and turned it off. “So, how are you? And how are Mom and Dad?”

            “They are great. Better than ever. Busy enough to complain about you being here and neither one of us providing them with grandchildren any time soon.” I told the truth. Almost.

            “Do you ever wonder how you and I wound up born twins? Look at us! We are so different. Nobody in their right mind would spot us for brothers, let alone identical twins.” He was right. Not only did we look totally different, his muscles bulging, mine non-existent, our personalities always seemed to lean in the opposite directions. Daniel, born to be a soldier, remained in the army a year longer than necessary. I, born to be a pacifist, refused to serve and struggled through years of national service fighting for my right not to bear arms.

            “Nah, I think we’re very much alike. Only we’re not there yet. You end your private security shtick here, and, I bet, you’ll become a scientist in your old age.” I laughed. “I, on the other hand, will learn to swim and go for senior Olympics, or something.” Suddenly, I couldn’t stop laughing. We couldn’t stop laughing.

            “Let’s get a drink first.” Daniel said, still laughing and lighting another cigarette.

            We reached Princeton after dark. It looked exactly how I imagined it would: streets full of youngsters, outlines of old dignified buildings, cafes and restaurants warmly lit and as if celebrating the never ending holidays.  We breezed through the center and Daniel found a parking spot.

            “Gabi,” Daniel’s voice surprised me out of my reverie.  “They have the best beer here,” he said turning off the engine.

            I stepped on the snow-covered sidewalk and shuddered at the cold. Living in the warm and sunny Israel, I’ve forgotten how cold it could be elsewhere. Quickly pushing my arms through the sleeves of my brother’s coat, I resolved to give it up right before my flight home.  He locked the car and led me to a huge door with a simple sign “Red”. 

            “The music is also good, but the food is ordinary.” Wearing a jacket over a sweater, Daniel didn’t even acknowledge how cold it was. “I was here several times before.”

            “With whom?” I managed to say, my teeth chattering. I stuck my hands in the coat pockets and we entered.

            “My boss comes to visit his son here now and then.” Daniel opened another door and we found ourselves in a dimly lit bar with red tables. As a matter of fact, everything here seemed red, walls, floors, ceilings. We sat at an empty table and looked at the small stage where a band was in the process of tuning their instruments.

            “Looks like we’re just in time. These guys’re great.” Daniel motioned to a waiter and asked me: “Do you want to take off the coat?”

            “No, I am too cold.” My hands still in the pockets, I felt a cold metal something in the left one. Tracing it with my fingers, I knew it was a gun. My left hand flew out of the pocket in alarm and I almost screamed at Daniel, but caught myself and switching to Hebrew whispered: “You have a gun in your pocket!”

            “Oh? I always have one on me, it’s my job, I’m a bodyguard, you know.” Daniel answered reading the menu, unperturbed as always.

            “You know how I feel about guns.” Getting a bit calmer, I decided to keep the coat on for a little longer. It was warmer than outside, but far from comfortable.

            “I know how you feel about guns, and, frankly, I don’t get it.” Daniel said after ordering. “You know what I thought about your escapades with the army and almost going to jail for refusing to serve.”

            We sat in silence for a moment until the waiter brought our drinks. Daniel remembered not to order me beer, but dry red wine instead.

            “So, tell me what you’ll be doing here.” Daniel polished off half his mug and waited.

            Unsettled by the gun’s presence near my body, I sipped my wine and gathered my thoughts.

            “You remember Professor Levi, my thesis advisor and mentor? He is teaching a course on Modern Hebrew Novel at Princeton. There was a family emergency back home, so he had to leave for a while. I’m here to substitute on a very short notice.”

            “Wow, my little brother will lecture at Princeton! I’m proud of you, notwithstanding your aversion to guns.” Daniel lifted his beer. “Cheers! Whose novels are you covering?”

            “Agnon, Grossman, Oz, Yehoshua, and some younger ones, not so well known.” I said.

            “The usual lefties.” Daniel laughed. “Are the younger ones any good? Any I should read?”

            “You read?” Surprised and pleased I felt warmth seeping through me.

            “Why, are you surprised? I can hold a book in one hand and a gun in another. Of course, I read. I read even more since I came here. When you come to my place, you’ll be shocked to find stacks of books, mostly in Hebrew.”

            As our food arrived, a guy on stage came forward and wished everyone a fun evening. A bunch of college students to our right shouted their approval, but loud music muffled their shouts. I could hardly make out the words of the song so we ate and talked, pausing at times, then going back to our conversation.  It felt like old times, before years of our disagreements about the army, when we twin-brothers and best friends could talk about anything and everything.     

            “What about girls? Seeing anyone you could bring home to mom and dad?” Daniel asked after we finished the last of our food and he ordered a second round of drinks.

            “Yes, about that,” I stalled for a bit, “I’m thinking of marrying Lucy. You don’t know her yet, but I do want you to meet her next time you come home.”

            “Marry? Really?” Astonished Daniel couldn’t hide his curiosity. “Why so sudden? You never mentioned her before, and now marriage?” He drank and waited for my answer.

            “Not so sudden, we’ve known each other since September. I plan to introduce her to mom and dad as soon as I get back. What about you?” Now it was my turn to wait for an answer.

            “Wait, do you at least have a photo of this Lucy?” Daniel wanted to know.

            I found my wallet and searched for a small snapshot. “Hold on, I have one somewhere here,” I said, but was interrupted by a loud voice from the right.

            “Hey, you two, what is this language you are talking?” A tall visibly drunk youth with nearly shaved blond hair stood next to our table.

            Sitting and not moving a muscle, Daniel smiled at the guy and said in his perfect English: “What business is it of yours, young man?”

            All of a sudden, half a dozen guys backed their friend, all looking like his brothers. “Billy, leave the men alone,” said one of them, contradicting his friend’s desire to learn a life’s lesson or two.

            “Hold on Tom. What business is it of mine?” Billy couldn’t resist, -“I’ll tell you, go back to your medieval f-ng country and speak your f-ng language there. This is America and we speak English here, old man!”

            “Are you gonna make me?” Daniel slowly rose to face Billy.

            Dumbfounded by the speed with which the fight was approaching, I looked at my brother outnumbered by the drunken students and panicked. Music booming in the background, our waiter serving other tables with his back to us, no one paid any attention to what was happening. Without thinking I stood, stuck a hand in my left pocket and immediately felt Daniel grabbing and holding my left shoulder, keeping my hand where it was. 

            “No need, Gabi, no need.” He said calmly and squeezed my shoulder. “These young men will remember that they live in a free country of many nationalities. And if not, I will show them how well we were trained in the Israeli army.”

            Hearing this, Billy and his friends broke rank and stepped backward. Tom pushed his friends to their table, then turned to us and said: “Thanks, man.”

            Daniel let go of me, took some bills from his wallet and dropped them on the table.

            “Let’s go, little brother.” He said in Hebrew. Passing the table of our almost assailants he stopped briefly to say: “Shalom, young men,” and waved.

            Back on the street I realized I could breathe again.

            “And to think all these years you, Gabi, pretended to hate guns!” Daniel laughed at me.

            “And you, Dani, are in the wrong field!” I joined him. “You were born to be a diplomat, big brother!”

           




Texas  Jones Act Lawyer
nter
elinka: (avital)
Вредное чудо в ответ на вопрос есть ли ее рассказ Colorful Rain в интернете ответило спроси гугл! Нахалюга.
Но есть. Это первая медаль в прошлом году. http://www.artandwriting.org/gallery/2008/writing/Chizhik_Avital_colorful.pdf

Это вторая http://publishing.yudu.com/Freedom/Afl2i/2008NationalCatalog/resources/index.htm?referrerUrl= cтраница 76.

Пришлось добавить новые tags bragging/хвастаюсь.
Ждите продолжения.
elinka: (fish net)
Старшее чудо "забыло" сообщить, что получила 2 (два) золотых приза на конкурсе Scholastic Art & Writing. Мы-то радовались одному. Как выяснилось, в последний момент дописался еще один рассказ, сам отправился по почте и отхватил золото, при этом еще умудрился попасть в глянцевый каталог (на стр. 74). Ну не чудо?
elinka: (quill)
This might go on the Wall at the conference.






Wedding Plans

-Michael, we need to talk.
-Iʼm with a client now, honey.
-Youʼre always with a client.
-Canʼt it wait till tonight? We can talk over dinner.
-No, it just canʼt.
-Fine, give me a minute.

A pause.

-Has something happened, darling?
-Not yet. Weʼre eloping.
-Eloping? What do you mean? What about our wedding?
-Wedding? Oh, you still remember about the wedding?
-Of course, I remember. How can I forget? Weʼve been preparing for it for year!
-We? Who is it we? When did you do anything for the wedding? You couldnʼt even make it to the
caterers to decide on the menu. You werenʼt there even for our wedding gift registry.
-I was out of town, you know that! Besides, I asked my brother to help you out.
-Yes, you did. You also asked him to pick the band.
-He knows about that stuff, I donʼt. Wasnʼt he helpful?
-Very much. He helped me chose the song for our dance as well.
-You see? What do I know about things like that?
-Obviously, nothing. He also helped me find a photographer and a video maker.
-Iʼll make sure to get Dave a great thank you gift.
-Yes, you do that.
-By the way, I didnʼt forget to pick up our rings.
-How great. Donʼt lose them.
-So, what did you want to talk about? My time is almost up.
-Yes, Michael, it is. I told you, we are eloping. Dave and I.
elinka: (nyc)
Фиаско



- Со мной раньше никогда такого не случалось!- Он включил лампу на тумбочке, сел на край кровати и в полном бессилии уронил руки на колени.
- Я знаю, милый, я знаю. Но всё не так, как тебе кажется. И твоей вины в этом нет.- Она сбросила с себя одеяло, придвинувшись поближе к нему, и горячо обняла его.
- Уже сорок лет, как я этим занимаюсь, и вот впервые не могу... Ничего не получается.- Голос его задрожал и он замолчал.
Она опустила голову ему на плечо, прислушалась к его дыханию и прошептала:
- Любимый, ничего не случилось. Ты просто устал и должен отдохнуть.
- Прежде я мог даже тогда, когда уставал, в любое время дня и ночи. Помнишь время, когда я работал на двух работах? Но ночью, когда я возвращался домой…- Его голос дрогнул и он опять умолк.
- Да, конечно, помню. Ты меня всегда этим поражал... Но ты сейчас находишься под таким большим напряжением, это понятно. - Она ласково смотрела на него, как на маленького ребенка, нежно перебирая пальцами его волосы.
- Эх. Я не знаю что делать! Никогда не думал, что такое может случиться со мной! Именно со мной!
- Но, дорогой мой, никто не застрахован от неудач. Да, и ты уже не мальчик, такие вещи случаются.
- Ты думаешь это возраст? Неужели это старость? – Он никак не мог совладать со своим голосом.
- Нет, нет, я совсем не это имела в виду, просто... Ты же знаешь, как все в жизни быстро меняется . – Не отпуская его плечо, она взала с тумбочки стакан воды и протянула ему.
- Я все же чувствую свою вину, как-будто я что-то упустил из виду. - Он отпил пару глотков воды, поднялся с кровати и подошел к окну, из которого в комнату проникал легкий, но дурманящий запах сирени.
- Любимый, не мучай себя. Я уверена, что это случается чаще, чем ты мог предположить .- Накинув халат, она подошла вплотную к нему. – Тебе нужно просто измененить обстановку, немного отдохнуть, проветриться, и, я уверена, все придёт в норму.
- Может мне обратиться к психотерапевту? – Спросил он, словно хватаясь за соломинку, и посмотрел на нее, как смотрят дети, ожидающие от взрослых все решающей помощи и защиты.
- Тебе не нужно никакое лечение! Необходим всего лишь небольшой перерыв! - Её голос был полон сострадания, она поглаживала его плечи и спину.
- Пожалуйста, не мучай себя. То же самое было и с Сэнди.
– Как? Когда? Откуда ты это знаешь? Ты мне ничего не говорила. - В его голосе зазвучали нотки прежней уверенности, и он смотрел на нее уже с любопытством.
- Да, такое на самом деле случалось с Сэнди. Я была у них как-то дома и слышала, как после нескольких бокалов вина Молли над ним подшучивала. – Теперь они стояли лицом друг к другу, и она медленно, пуговицу за пуговицей, расстегивала его рубашку.
- Даже твой дражайший друг Майк не избежал этого. Обе его бывшие жены не раз болтали об этом во всеуслышанье. Странные вы люди, никогда не говорите о главном.
- Только не говори мне, что и у Сидней было тоже самое. Я все равно тебе не поверю. - Изумленный, он даже не заметил, как она сняла с него часы, майку.
- Конечно! Помнишь ее поездку заграницу несколько лет назад? Все прошло буквально за несколько надель, и с тех пор больше не повторялось.
- Невероятно! Впервые слышу об этом! Почему ты об этом не рассказывала раньше?
- Слава богу, до сих пор не представлялось случая. - Расстегнув ремень, она помогла снять ему брюки и сбросила свой халат на пол. - Говорить с писателем о писательском блоке нужно только тогда, когда этого просто нельзя избежать. - Ее ночная рубашка последовала за халатом. – Мне кажется, тебе пора поискать новый материал.
elinka: (quill)
A Gift for Life

        Awakening, slowly extricating myself from my sleep’s grasp, I heard the door bell. Someone insisted on getting me out of bed even on this holiday, a rare day off for me, now that I am a third year resident at St. Peter’s. Throwing blankets away always helped me to shake off last remnants of dreams and nightmares. On my way to the door I noticed how Lily’s hair laced a pillow, no door bell could wake my Lily, not even a fire alarm or an ambulance siren.
        I opened the door without checking who was on the other side.
        “ Hi, Mr. Fine? I’m from Golub, Krants, and Golub, a Princeton law firm. Please, sign here.” He produced a brown wrapped package and a clipboard.
        “What is this? Am I in trouble? Is someone suing me? Do I need a lawyer?” Scary thoughts crowded my tired brain. He held the clipboard and waited for me to sign.
        “No, no, Mr. Fine. This is for you. Your name turned up in Dr. First’s will. I am here to deliver this package into your hands.”
        “Dr. First? He’s dead? I haven’t heard anything.” With my crazy schedule I must’ve missed the obituary. It was hard to believe Dr. First was gone.
        I liked him from the opening sentence of his first biology lecture “You can free yourself from aging by reinterpreting your body and by grasping the link between belief and biology.” Later, working in his lab I learned the phrase belonged to Deepak Chopra, but the feeling of First’s magnificent importance never left me. He became a second father to me even before I started graduate school, and his being my advisor did not make it easy for me to defend my thesis. When I chose medical school after all that hard work, his obvious disappointment hurt me. I loved biology and genetics, but always felt the need to follow in my dad’s footsteps. So, at least one of my fathers was happy with my choices.
        “Happy New Year, Mr. Fine.” The messenger closed the door quietly.
        Tearing the brown paper I walked to the kitchen and spilled the contents on the table. A smaller unsealed envelope, a thick file folder and a tiny box landed next to yesterday’s empty wine glasses, stale crackers, and half a mango.
        “Dear Michael,” I read recognizing at once First’s handwriting.
        “If you are reading this letter, it means I am dead. I tried several times to call you to apologize for my dim-witted behavior, but never mastered the courage. Now that I’ve been ill for three years with no good prospects in sight, I feel I know why you chose to be a doctor. Knowing of your nature and dedication, I wish you were mine.
        Michael, I have a gift for you, but it comes with an obligation. Please, take care of the enclosed file which records my work of the last five years. I know I can trust you to use it in good faith and for the good of mankind. Yes, such big words, but you will know what I mean.
Now about the box. As you know, my wife and I had no children, and being the only family member to survive the War, I have no living relatives. I have bequeathed all my possessions to the university. I was lucky to have you as a student for six years and came to think of you as my son. And to you, my son, I want to give the result of my life’s work.
        Please, be assured I am of sound mind when I write this. The pill in the box is designed only for you. I used your DNA leftover from the tests you created for your thesis, so it will only work for you. If you take it, and I know you will, your life span will extend to eight hundred years. I leave it to you to work out all the details and logistics. You’ll most likely want to know why I didn’t make a pill for myself. I can almost hear your questions. Well, you’ll know the answer soon enough, once you’ve had time to think clearly.
        Michael, I wish you a long and happy life (as long as you want it to be).
        Yours,
       Jonathan First”
        I reread the letter and touched the box, a plain cardboard box. In it a small plastic bag held a green pill. Rubbing the tiny pill between my fingers, I moved to the sink and filled a wine glass with water.
        “Who was that, honey?” Lily’s sudden voice startled me. I dropped the glass. It broke in the sink. I watched the pill swept by the water down the drain.
elinka: (quill)

Distracted

 

            My legs took me outside, as if stuffed with cotton, still, they somehow managed to keep me vertical. My brain disengaged from the present launched only one impulse to disappear. I wished to merge with the grayness of the evening, to be swept away by unforgiving gusts of late fall wind, to dissolve in the icy drops of an intermittent rain. There I stood in the middle of an empty street, as if the city was vacuumed clean of people, cars, sounds, without knowing which way to turn.

            The day played scene by scene in my mind’s eye, kept returning to one frame, the one frame I had to erase from my memory in order to survive, or at least to get home safely. Yes, I waited for four months, for this day planning, agonizing about the every detail.

            My rain-soaked jacket finally roused me and made me start moving, slowly at first, faster with every block. I walked uptown not noticing anything around me, crossing streets without paying attention to traffic lights. I should’ve known the day would turn disastrous when my boss avoided looking at me when he announced Mike’s new promotion to manager of the Eastern seaboard division:  the job that should have been mine, the job I had slaved for the last two years. Oh, how I wished to wipe that smug grin off Mike’s self-confident face!  Remembering it anew, blinding anger flashed over me as I dashed through a puddle in the middle of a street.  Water sloshed in my shoes and spurted with each step. 

            Seeing the street sign, I realized I’d walked for twenty blocks.  I stopped in the back of a subway staircase, near my favorite ad, the one I passed many times in the last months while searching for the ring. In the ad, a couple looking exactly like two halves of a whole, jeans clad, bright eyed, her hand in his, barely showing the diamond ring, his other hand on her shoulder exuding such tenderness, that for months every time I saw the ad I saw their pure joy and it made me believe in my future. Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid me. 

            I don’t know how long I stood this time in front of the ad.  Finally, turning west, I strode with no particular destination in mind, just to get away from the damn, lying picture. When I mentioned my decision to propose to Sarah, to Laura, my recently married friend at work, she knew exactly where to take me shopping. The first time we spent our lunch hour browsing jewelry stores Laura, showed me the blissful couple ad and mentioned how much they looked like Sarah and me. Yes, at the time, we were that sort of couple.

            I marveled at the rain’s persistence and tried to remember where I left my umbrella, to think of anything but the disaster. ”Avoidance of a problem is often its solution,” my father always said. But how could I avoid thinking about the losses of today? Sarah’s eyes distant and full of regret when we entered the restaurant made her look as if she didn’t want to be there, but I saw nothing. I was high on the present, anticipating her ”Yes!” never doubting our love. She stabbed me with her ”No!” before our desert arrived, with her ”I am breaking up with you”, with her quiet and dignified walk to the doors and her disappearance into the night.  Now, hours later, I stopped in front of a window where eyeglasses displayed. I can see Sarah’s eyes in every lens in the window burrowing through me, denying me, rejecting me.

            With the weather worsening by the minute, people rushed to hide behind welcoming doors, to be embraced by the warmth of their homes. I started walking again, my face wet and coarse, rivulets of rain streaming down my jacket reminding me about my raincoat forgotten at the restaurant. I paid no attention to a young man in a hooded windbreaker walking fast, almost running, in my direction until I strode to the right to evade another huge puddle.  He bumped into me, hard. I heard an ”Excuse me” as he continued on his way without slowing down. I reached the end of the block and waited for a taxi to pass. Why not grab that cab and go home? I checked my pocket to see how much cash I had left, but my wallet wasn’t there. Had I left it at the restaurant too, along with my raincoat and umbrella? No, I distinctly remembered folding my nearly empty wallet after paying for the unhappy meal and slipping it into my jacket pocket. It hit me then and there. I turned around and scurried in the direction of the hooded windbreaker. He probably managed to get far away or vanish altogether.  Searching for the thief, my gaze swept the street in step with my wildly pounding heart. Two blocks, three, four. No one in sight. About to give up my pursuit, I saw a familiar outline another block away and raced to catch him before he disappeared. Barely able to breathe, I reached the guy, grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face me. His eyes full of fear, one earphone dangling on a wire, the guy turned out to be a boy of no more than eighteen. My side was killing me, and I couldn’t produce a coherent sound, so we just stood there, my hand still clutching his shoulder.

            ”The wallet! Give me the wallet,” I managed to whisper. I had to reverse my luck. I had to fight this darkness descending on my life. Right now, right here.

            No comprehension registered in the boy’s eyes as he continued to stare at me, not moving or even trying to free himself from my grip.

            ”Give me the wallet!” I said louder this time.

            ”Okay, okay, mister!” Hands shaking, it was hard for the boy to extract the wallet from the pocket of his jeans. When he finally did, I took it calmly, stuffed it in my jacket, and let go of his shoulder. The incident over, I raised my hand, to hail the cab that turned into the street and, without saying another word, sat in the back seat slamming the door behind me. As if glued to the spot, the boy was still standing there when my cab peeled away.

            The cab ride, uneventful, compared to the rest of the day, has calmed me and, not in a rush to see my empty apartment, I chatted for a bit with a doorman.

            Upstairs, the unusual quietness of the corridor made me think the building had been evacuated, not a sound heard, not even my neighbor’s dog who always barked on my approach.

            Hungry, I was ridiculously hungry. I dropped the wallet and keys on a shelf in the hallway, took a yogurt from a nearly empty fridge.  I sat on a sofa in the dark.

            I tried to push all thoughts of Sarah from my mind, but they stubbornly seeped back in. She didn’t love me enough, or at all. How could I have been so blind? How could I have missed the clues? With Sarah gone from my life, all I had to look forward was my job, the job I couldn’t stand any more. Mike’s triumphant face would remind me everyday what a loser I was. Exhausted, I lay on the sofa without removing my wet shoes. Something in my pants pocket pressed into my thigh.

            It was my wallet, free of cash.

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Фиаско




“Это никогда не случалось со мной прежде !” Он включил лампу, сел на край кровати и обнял руками колени ...Read more... )

Fiction

Aug. 2nd, 2006 06:07 pm
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FICTION




Seven days ago, my first book was released. Now, nobody will talk to me.Read more... )

Failure

Jun. 27th, 2006 12:34 am
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Failure


“It has never happened to me before in my life!” He turned on a lamp, sat on his side of the bed and dropped his hands in his lap.Read more... )

Never

Apr. 18th, 2005 12:17 am
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Mine was love at first sight. Or so I’ve thought.

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Dina’s Mondrian



“Dina, tomorrow is Wednesday, your favorite day of the week. I bet you can’t wait for your next art class,” mom said as she sliced a cucumber and smiled at her daughter. Read more... )
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“I wish I could go to the theater with my sisters,” Neta sadly whispered to her aunt. Read more... )
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Here is my first story.


Tali and Miro.

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January 2012

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