Fiction

Sanbelat the Horny was horny. He adjusted the black hat and suit he was wearing, wiping the sweat from his brow. A black hat and suit were the last thing you’d think of wearing in the Middle East, but this what Moses had worn when he left Egypt, so it...

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....

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...

What lost objects are your own, and which must you return to their owners?Rabbi Akiva says a stack of four coins.Rabbi Meir says five.Who is right? Teiku. No one knows. Schmaltzburg leaned against the fence and took a deep drag of the cigarette. It burned, this being the cheapest, shittiest brand...

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....

I originally wrote this post while I was still religious, and published it under a pseudonym on Jewrotica. At this point, gentlemen, I have nothing to hide. Berel Shtiklwitz was an entrepreneur. A social entrepreneur, to be exact. He recognized a need: a lot of seminary girls out there were horny but...

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...

Avrumi Zeivald was prepared to meet his maker. Or at least a maker. Someone’s, even if not his. The Torah, the Rabbis had assured him, came with a lifetime guarantee. It was guaranteed to be true, or he’d be eligible for a full refund. The problem was, that as Avrumi’s...

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...

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...