Night On Heckel Street

by Mike Mayak

The hair sofa crinkled as Lev shifted his position.

“How long have we been sitting here?” Lev asked.

“Since Midnight, Walter said. “Just about three hours.”

The two men glanced around the darkened Heckel Street Synagogue. Familiar but dark and quiet except for the occasional sound of a car from outside.

“Rabbi Klein must’ve been pretty worried or he wouldn’t have us standing guard in the place at night.” Lev said.

“Glad we don’t have to stand!” Walter chuckled. “Rabbi has a right to be worried, considering how things are in this country right now.”

“Protests, threats of violence,” Lev sighed. “Who would have thought things could change like this after just one election?”

“My Grandmother used to say that “In the darkness, the stars are still there if we look.” Walter said.

“Still, if there’s trouble I brought this,” Walter said pulling the object out from under the sofa.

“My nephew’s baseball bat.”

“I’ve seen those!” Lev said. “Did he get that when he visited America?”

“Yes,” Walter said, smacking the bat in his palm. “He said if things get bad I could use it on Hitler.”

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The Draws for the February 2025 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge were Historical Fiction, set in a Synagogue involving a Hair Sofa. A pretty obvious story but one I felt I ought to write. —–mike