28 August 2026

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT c, Dale Rogerson

This is no basket ball in the photo this week. It’s a well-rounded hornets nest built against the side of a building. At the bottom of the nest you can see a few of the little buzzing, stinging creatures. Run!

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

THE MONSTERS ARE DUE ON MAPLE STREET

Stubbing out his third cigarette, the young playwright pored over his script.

“Wouldn’t want to upset the censors,” he muttered under his breath. He set his hands on his typewriter. “That’s it! A street in the suburbs is cut off from the rest of neighborhood. The residents convince themselves that one of their neighbors is an alien from outer space.

“In the end, extra-terrestrials orchestrated the isolation, then stood back and watched gullible humans turn on each other.”

Rod Serling smiled as he put the finishing touches on his stingingly profound Twilight Zone episode. Social commentary cloaked in science fiction.

We have met the enemy and he is us.

****************

Was he a prophet? Sometimes I wonder.

Enough said.

21 August 2026

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Lori Wilson

The prompt this week is the front porch of an old hotel in Missouri. There are stone arches in front. Double wooden doors welcome the guests. There is a light over the front doors. Through the glass on the doors and the windows you can see the pleasant lobby. Welcome! Enjoy your stay! 😉

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

BLACK THURSDAY

Henry had a lucrative position with a Kansas City bank, a dream home, and a beautiful wife. The world was his oyster.

He’d booked a room in Booneville at the Frederick Hotel where they’d spent their wedding night. It was a crisp October day. Perfect for celebrating their first anniversary.

As he was packing the telephone rang.  

Tears blurred his vision that night at dinner. How can I tell her we’ve lost everything?

As he groped for the right words, Ginny blurted out. “Oh Henry, 1930 is going to be the best year ever! You’re going to be a daddy!”

14 August 2026

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

This week’s photo is of ten nesting cups with images of Russian buildings engraved on them. They go from large and detailed to teeny tiny. They looking to set in order on a wooden table.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

POETIC INJUSTICE

           “I adored the stage,” said Bubbe Gittel of her time in the Moscow State Jewish Theater. “I had a crush on the director, Shlomo Mikhoels. A gifted poet.”   

            I switched off the TV. My grandmother’s stories beat summer reruns.

            “During the war Mr. Stalin kept us safe from Hitler and made Shlomo the head of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee.”

            Bubbe’s smile faded. “The war ended and with it, Stalin’s favor.”      

            “They called it an accident, but I saw it with my own eyes. A KGB monster shoved Shlomo in the path of a speeding truck.”

“Why, Bubbe?”

“Need you ask?”

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Shlomo or Solomon Mikhoels

7 August 2026

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The photo this week is from Yours Truly. I snapped it in beautiful downtown Wilmington NC where I am this point in time. This is the Riverwalk by the Cape Fear River. The sidewalk is wooden. To the left are railings by the river. On the right is a fence. We see older buildings in the distance. On the left, further down the walkway is a street light. There are green trees to the right. A sunny hot day in North Carolina.

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Genre: Truthful Fiction
Word Count: 100

As it turns out, I’m in Wilmington NC this week, 😀 A recent story on CBS Sunday Morning caused me to dig deeper into this shameful piece of American history.

DISINFORMATION CAMPAIGN

In high school we weren’t taught about the Wilmington coupe, reported as a “race riot,” when white supremacists drove elected black city officials from their offices at gunpoint. Fine upstanding citizens were forced to flee and take refuge in a swamp.

My beautiful friend Shaliza and I were shocked when this history came to light.

I’m ashamed at the realization that my great-great-grandfather was one of the red shirts who very well could’ve gunned down Shaliza’s great-great-grandfather.

She and I embraced at a recent ceremony at Memorial Park

Could someone explain to me what makes white skin superior to brown?

*************

There’s so much to this story. CLICK for a longer video. Or do your own history dive.

31 July 2026

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The prompt this weeks is of a rotted tree stump. Growing profusely from the wood are rows of turkey tail mushrooms. They look like columns of fans or tails of turkeys.

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This week, as I’ll be traveling out of state to visit my brother in North Carolina, I’m taking the easy way and posting a snippet from my novel LAST DANCE WITH ANNIE (soon to be available in audio).

Genre: Literary Fiction
Word Count: 100

ROUGH ROAD TO RECOVERY

Once the doors shut and the vehicle began to move, the EMT picked up the ambulance phone and poised his fingers over the buttons. “Do you want me to call your husband?”

            Elise’s panic mushroomed. “Husband?”

            The young man’s cheeks flushed as he pointed at her wedding ring. “I assumed—”

            Elise swiveled the gold band around her ring finger with her pinkie and thumb. They’d had a terrible fight at the restaurant about her dinner—or lack thereof—as always.

Tony had filled a plate with chicken and vegetables and plopped it front of her. “Dammit, Elise, eat something!”

********************

A few more photos from our recent recording session. Jadyn, the young man in the photo will be voicing the male characters. The young lady sitting is my publisher Lia Wu.