God’s acceptance of our commitment to correct (“teshuva”) is a miracle greater than all other miracles.
The requirements of teshuva are: regret for what one has done wrong in the past, and resolve to improve in the future.
To the degree a person is aware of his wrongdoings and feels pain for what he has done, to that same degree his teshuva is of greater value. The essential thing is to feel extreme joy for the miracle of teshuva, and to praise the Almighty for this good fortune.
Sources: Rabbi Moshe Chevroni; Masaas Moshe, p.65; Rabbi Zelig Pliskin’s Gateway to Happiness, p.228
© Sandra Crook
He had let the garden go after she died. Erin was six when she was hit and killed in a crosswalk. She believed fairies sprinkled magic dust on the plants to make them grow.
After Jared and Paulette divorced, it had been just the two of them. Now he was alone in the backyard at night.
At first, he thought he was dreaming when he saw them. He walked closer to the stacks and got on his knees. They were little people with wings spreading dust. One came nearer, right up to his face. The little fairy smiled. “Hi, Daddy.”
I wrote this for the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields writing challenge. The idea is to use the image above as a prompt to craft a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. After a lot of editing, my word count is 100.
My wife buys a lot of things at yard sales because they’re cheap. This includes a ton of children’s books for our three-year-old granddaughter. We have several books in the Pinkalicious series (no, I’m not kidding), and my granddaughter loves them.
In one of the books, Pinkalicious believes fairies come every night to sprinkle dust on their garden to make it grow, and she and her brother Peter, not only camp out in the backyard at night to see them, but build the fairies a pretty impressive little house.
That’s where I got my basic idea.
To read other stories based on the prompt, visit InLinkz.com.
Lover and the wild @ deviantart
Eva had lost count of how many men she’d slept with, but then this was never about keeping score. She rarely encountered Asmodius, her own seducer, the master incubus who launched her on this sad and lonely path of revenge, since she had fallen so deep into her own abyss, she required little encouragement to continue the descent.
She didn’t travel alone, however. There were a trail of formerly virtuous, noble, and even holy men left in her wake, spiraling down into Hell with her. She never felt sorry for them, no matter how piteously they pleaded with her, how they would lose everything, their wives, their children, their careers. It didn’t matter.
The seductress wasn’t responsible for them falling into her trap, only for setting herself out as the bait. She was the temptation, but the sins were on them.
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© Liz Young
I used to be like this junk. Drinking, smoking, a broken plastic person. A terrible father. A worse husband. Disreputable, divorced, self-destructive. But that’s before they were born. My grandchildren. They made me believe in myself because they believe in me. Now the man I was is just like this stuff, discarded. I’m sitting on this hill watching them frolic on the playground in the park below.
“C’mon down and play with us,” Johnny shouts.
“Yeah, Grandpa. Push me on the swing,” Cindy adds.
I stand up and walk toward my redemption.
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioners challenge. Based on the photo prompt above, you’re supposed to write a complete story of no more than 100 words. Mine came in at 93.
To read more stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.
Jeff and Mary Edge were getting a divorce and they didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Mary’s parents suggested that they try marital counseling, but Mary was tired of Jeff’s drinking and Jeff was tired of Mary not getting a job to help with the family finances.
They’d had it with each other and they weren’t going to talk to Mary’s parents, a counselor, or anyone else about it.
Jeff and Mary didn’t even talk about it with their seven-year-old daughter Morgan.
Jeff was at the wheel and Mary was sitting, sulking in the passenger seat after meeting with the divorce lawyer. He was going to take Mary back to her parent’s house where she was staying for now, and pick up Morgan for their weekend visit.
Jeff was sober and would be throughout the visit. When he dropped Morgan back with her mother Sunday night, he planned to go back to his seedy one bedroom apartment and get roaring drunk. The hangover he’d have when he went to work on Monday morning would be worth it.
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Image: WFMJ.com News
Brent hated Halloween. He’d hated it for the past twenty years, and he had a very good reason to. Twenty years ago tonight she had died and it was all his fault.
Twenty years ago tonight, Brent took his eight-year old daughter Evelyn out trick or treating. His wife Marie stayed home to give out candy to the children who would be visiting their house.
It happened so fast. Evelyn saw her best friend across the street and ran over to see her without looking. A teenager driving too fast in a neighborhood full of children. Brent froze at the sickening thud of her body being crushed by the impact. Mercifully, she died instantly.
Brent wasn’t the only one to blame him for little Evie’s death. His wife divorced him six-months later. Evie was their only child.
For the past twenty years, Brent lived alone. He never remarried. Who would have him anyway? Oh, he’s kept a job, had a small comfortable house to live in, he even had a few friends, but the spark of life and of living died along with his little girl.
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