Fiction

There is a tradition, at the Eisenkopp Yeshiva for Fine Young Men, that when you make yourself tea, you fling the used teabag at the ceiling and see if it sticks. It is called teabagging, and no one knows why it is done. Some speculate that it’s a reminder that...

Avreml Zingelwald kicks off his shoes and jumps into the freshly dug grave. He’s done this a thousand times before. It’s his job. Yankel Vozserzach hands him the body. They’ve done this so often, multiple times a day, that their movements are fast, mechanical, sterile. This lumpy body in its shrouds...

In the hyperbolic style of Mishpacha Magazine. Inspired by bullshit like this. Mild mannered and unassuming, most people looking at Gedalya Halevi Fleagenkrautz would not realize the man is truly one of the biggest leaders of the generation, a gadol who has brought thousands closer to Yiddishkeit. In the corner, a...

Gedlya Goldfinger holstered his PsalmRay. Whereas the rest of the Goyishe Velt used neutron chips and nanotechnology to power their zappers, the psalm ray, engineered by The Conglomeration of Rabbis Against Advanced Technology, had been constructed mechanically. It was very steampunk, if Gedlaya had only known what that was, or how...

The streets were windy. Dark. Grey and overbearing. Little slits carved into limestone to accommodate passerby. Endless tunnels, where people lived over the street. Never walking in a straight line for more a few steps. This was home. Safe. Familiar. Where you had to worry about getting stabbed if you walked one block too far. Where endless...

What does a fetus resemble in his mother's intestines? A folded notebook... And he sees from one end of the world to the other, and he is taught all the torah. And when he enters the world, an angel comes and smacks him on his mouth and makes him...

This was a post I wrote in my teens, while I was still very much religious. As you can see, I was still very bothered by the absolutely abysmal quality of literate in the Jewish community. BS”D By C. Yackobovitch Writing Frum novels can be an exciting, creative and rewarding experience....

So it had come to this. He was dead, and it was judgement time. His first grade Rebbe had warned him about this moment. Rosh Hashanah davening had reminded him of it. And now, 83 years later, it was really happening. “When you arrive in heaven, you’ll stand before God on...

Velvel couldn’t stop dreaming about Magda Pritzovsky. Every Sunday, he’d see her headed to the Greek Orthodox church with the extra little crosses on top of the crosses. Extra Christian. She would always go with her father. He had a long white beard and reeked of potato vodka. He looked like Rasputin. She...

He never learned much math. Math was limited to two hours a week with a secular studies teacher who spent more time shouting at unruly classmates than teaching arithmetic. It was a shame, because he would have been good at it. He could have been an engineer, in an alternate universe....