Ruth Nofchissey
Stories (7)
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the Moon is My Friend
The Moon is my friend, She is the light with such gentle effect that I can lay down my burdens and walk away form what could not be finished- or understood in the yang sun. Rest and letting go is needed by all who would fight to win. We rise with the sun to become the movers and shakers. But without the rest, we cannot plan. The moon, governor of our night sky, is not always seen; but, is always there. We become a brilliant players in the theatre of the night.
By Ruth Nofchissey4 years ago in Earth
Tree Angel
There is no excuse to look at the albums and recipes again. During the pandemic everything feels like a bad game of musical chairs without laughter, without innocence, somedays- without even the fragrance of possibilities. However, her eyes lit upon one tiny picture. A polaroid from the black and white era. A little girl in a relaxed pose. She knew the grey scale pajamas were frilly, red nylon tricot. And she knew that the little white socks could be worn inside without getting ruined-because the floors were that clean. Lunch would be coming soon. Perhaps some Riceland Rice and little boiled chicken drumsticks.
By Ruth Nofchissey4 years ago in Humans
Matters of the Heart
Tami was already more facile than her designers envisioned. She inspired those who made the decisions for the communities known as "Old Bay" or " Frisco". She had been born in the new way. She had never seen public transportation nor been on a train because she had not yet been invited. She would not be invited until she had a heart. Without the heart they couldn't connect to Nvidia. Because her older sister had been " to town"- because she had earned a heart and had decided to get married in the church building, which was dedicated to sanctioned union groups, Tami was living in a unique family. The seaside cottage they maintained was built in the style used after the originals WW11. She was begat directly from some of the earliest AI designers, Jen-Hsu, Huang, Curtis Priem, and Christopher Malachowsky. Her DNA was established in Delaware, as the Old Gods might say, and maintained in Santa Clara.
By Ruth Nofchissey5 years ago in Fiction
Cold Pizza
Cold Pizza She swung open the big, old wooden door in the mid-century, California house she shared with her techie roomies- two guys and one woman. “Welcome. Step in. Nice to see you. I am just kicking back – finishing a creative morning at the computer. Coffee? Water or Wine? She lead him across the saltillo tile to an older wooden chair by the sliding glass. "Hold just a moment- I’d like to play some of my personal tunes for you- Have you ever heard the Native Flute music of the trio Nakai, Eaton, Clipman- ‘Feather, Stone & Light’?” D’Angelo was immediately drawn into her orbit. It happened every time. Magic. Scarry magic. Scarry good magic. She turned to make him comfortable on the couch and he surveyed the petite, shapely legs of Marta. “Have a seat and relax -this tune is one of my favorites and it immediately transports me to another time, somewhere deep in the canyons of my soul. The name is “Prelude to the Storm”. Nice, yeah?"
By Ruth Nofchissey5 years ago in Humans
New Wine
New Wine Patricia and Hashem stood before a roaring fire in Tahoe to recite vows before family and friends as a well- worn pair, clear in intent and happy. They eagerly clasped hands in unrehearsed enthusiasm. Patty was elegant in her silky cocktail gown and furry short jacket. Hashem, the epitome of sprezzatura- wore a dark, wool suit enhanced with an elegant white silk scarf. As flames raced against the stones, guests sipped wine with hummus, cheese, olives and artisan bread. Michael, son of Patti’s beloved Aunt Grace, spoke the words which joined them together, telling a story about how they came together through caring for others and by sharing a deep pleasure in the natural world. For the benefit of Patti's parents, he used a Biblical analogy about not putting "new wine" in old wineskins" to highlight the positivity of personal change. He ended the unusual ceremony with words, a challenge for the newlyweds from the mystic poet, Rumi, in deference to the family of Hashem, "Unfold your own myth."
By Ruth Nofchissey5 years ago in Humans
