THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET

THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET

Huddled in his doorway, Harvey stared sourly across the street. Why did the sun never shine on him? Over there it was spring, with a hint of green colouring the trees, but on this side the snow still lay in dirty heaps.

He pulled his overcoat tighter and scowled at the people streaming into the synagogue. Their cheerful greetings floated across the sunny street to Harvey’s shadow, families and friends together, emphasizing his loneliness.

A car pulled up beside him and a man got out.

“What are you doing skulking over here, Harvey? Come on – you’ll be late. Happy Passover!”

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It took me a while to come up with a story for Roger Bultot's photo - not being Jewish I couldn't think of anything appropriate - but my story could easily be about any place of worship.
Poor Harvey is clearly suffering from depression - a state in which one can often only view the lighter side of life from ones own darkness.

FRIDAY MORNING - flash fiction for Good Friday

FRIDAY  MORNING

Last night had been enjoyable despite the threat of discovery – thirteen men breaking bread together and sharing wine. This morning, though, the bread was a hard lump in his stomach, and he could still taste the wine on his tongue, as sour as betrayal.

He stared into the mirror as if seeing a stranger. Was it really necessary to endure today’s horror? 

He got up, feeling far older than his thirty-odd years – what he needed was fresh air. Outside, his friends were waiting, with one notable exception.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, “It will be cool in the Gethsemane garden.”

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Pizza and wine - bread and wine - today's story had to be about Good Friday, the morning after the Passover meal. I think it's safe to assume that Jesus, who was human too, was also scared.

Thanks to Dale Rogerson for the photo prompt, and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog https://rochellewisoff.com/ .  

Happy Easter to you all, whatever you believe.