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All posts for the month September, 2014

26 September 2014

Published September 24, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Flowers from the Hill Thoreau

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The next photo you see is the PROMPT. Study it. What does it say to you? Tell me in a hundred words or less. 

 My story follows the prompt and the link. Click on little blue froggy fella and add your link. If reading and commenting on every story is daunting, try reading the five prior to yours and the five following. 😉

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 98

HELLO, MY NAME IS BILL

             Against the cold wooden floor, labor pains wracked Emily’s back. One after another they came, each harder than the last. She closed her eyes to shut out onlookers’ stares but couldn’t block out their voices.

            “Helluva place to have a kid.”

            “Pour me another, Fayette.”

           “Whaddya think, Gramps? Boy or girl?”

           “Quarter says ‘boy.’” 

            “Pay them no mind, Emily,” said Mama. “Push!”

             Over the din of cheers and clinking glasses William Griffith Wilson made his howling presence known.

            “Born behind Grandpa’s bar,” whispered Emily as she cuddled her newborn. “Don’t suppose it’s some kind of omen, do you?”

Epilogue

19 September 2014

Published September 17, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Thoreau.banner

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The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT.  Where does it take you? Tell me your story. 😉

NOTE: All are welcome to participate but please tell the story on your blog page not in my comment section.

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

BY WAY OF JERICHO

            “They say the minerals are curative.” My sister pointed to a picture of the Dead Sea. “Come with me.”

            “You want salt?” I said. “I’ll buy you a box of Morton’s.”

            “You know what I mean.”

            “I’d rather visit Australia.”

            “Be a pal. Think about it.”

___________

            “I knew it wasn’t a cure,” my sister whispered from her hospice bed. “I just wanted to visit the Holy Land before I died.”  

____________

            The water’s buoyancy made it fun for us to swim but I’ll always prefer the Hebrew name Yam HaMelach, Sea of Salt, to Dead Sea.

             I swim with her still.

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“We have returned to the cisterns
To the market and to the market-place
A ram’s horn calls out on the Temple Mount
In the Old City.

And in the caves in the mountain
Thousands of suns shine –
We will once again descend to the Dead Sea
By way of Jericho! “

-from the song “Jerusalem of Gold.” 

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Aging ~~~ A Poem

Published September 14, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Dear Jackie,

To let go of your dreams is to be the true walking dead. Lovely poem. Don’t think of getting old but as more life experience to write about.

September’s a grand month, eh?

Shalom,

Rochelle

sourcesource

Aging

I sit, looking at my reflection in the mirror
One year older, another year added
Age is just a number they tell me
Nothing to be concerned about
It’s how you feel inside that matters
Then some days I must be 105

I see the silver in my hair
New lines in my face
Wondering how did I manage to get this far
What happened to all my plans? Dreams?
Now I seem stuck, here in the land of numbers
Neither can I go back nor forward, yet.

Life has not been easy, still I have been blessed
I am alive, able to see dreams become reality
No matter the number in my age
My dreams never fade, not really
Some just become more important than others
They shift, like the sands in my internal hourglass

I may be older, we all age if we are lucky
It’s…

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12 September 2014

Published September 10, 2014 by rochellewisoff

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Below is the PHOTO PROMPT. Take time to think and reflect. How does it make you feel? What do you see? 

Copyright - Janet Webb

Copyright – Janet Webb

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Genre: Smoke and Mirrors

Word count: 100

HARRY’S FIRST TURN

            “Things were supposed to be better in America,” said Rabbi Weiss. “’Too old fashioned’ the congregation I built says, and just like that, I’m a pauper with nine mouths to feed.”

            “It’s because you don’t speak English, Papa.” Ehrich looked up from his book.

            “What’s this you’re reading?”

            “The Book of the Sacred Magic.

            “Better you should study the Torah.”

            “That didn’t do you much good, did it?”

            “Impudence! To your room!”

            Half an hour later Ehrich strolled into the parlor smiling triumphantly.

            “How?” Rabbi Weiss gasped. “I locked you in.”  

            “My brain is the key that sets me free.”     

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HarryHoudini1899

Click link for more info- Harry Houdini 1899

Houdini quote

Voice of a Spanish Dancer-Birthday Strokes

Published September 4, 2014 by rochellewisoff

If this looks familiar, it’s because I posted it a year ago on my birthday and feel like it bears repeating. 😉

Shalom,

Rochelle

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

Copy of Mermaid

 With each swim stroke I stretch and roll my body from side to side, releasing tension into the water.  It’s my birthday. Number six-oh on the hit parade. At the end of the first length I somersault, flip onto my back and push off the side of the pool wall.

            My parents gave me a Chatty Cathy for my sixth birthday. Ever notice she had the same voice as Talking Tina on the Twilight Zone?

            I reach the opposite end of the pool, turn slowly and deliberately, allowing the water to suspend me. The sun shines through the liquid ceiling and bathes the concrete and mosaic lines with refracted light. I push off the wall with my feet.

            On my tenth birthday, my dad opened a bank account for me with a dollar for each year. I felt very grown up with my passbook in hand.

           …

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5 September 2014

Published September 3, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Snorkeling in St. Thomas

Undersea St. Thomas 4 Meme

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The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Let it ignite the flames of your imagination. Then, tell me a story in one-hundred words or less. 

Campfire

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

FIRE IN THE HOLE

            Two months ago my husband bought a dehydrator, a nifty gadget that reduces ten pounds of apples to less than a pound of mummified slices in a matter of hours.

            “Think of the money we’ll save,” said Jeff. 

            “Seriously?” I rolled my eyes.

             The final straw broke when he dehydrated jalapeños.

            A short time later the dog begged to be let out. With my howling baby tucked under one arm and a handkerchief over my stinging nose I blindly kicked open the front door.

            It took a week to fumigate the house. It’ll take longer to let Jeff back in.

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