Our Mantra
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.E. Ayr
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
THE HEAVIEST WHEEL ROLLS ACROSS OUR FOREHEADS
When I was a little girl in the 1950’s, Mom used to take me to visit my aunt in St. Louis. I looked forward to those train rides. Sunlight dazzled through the trees as they whizzed by and the rhythm of the wheels clicking along the track soothed me.
Dad, on the other hand, hated trains, but would never tell me why. Only once did he accompany us.
As we left Union Station, tears trickled from the corners of his faraway eyes.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?”
“The stench was unbearable. Fifty of us crammed into a cattle car. I alone escaped.”
.
.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 
Brilliant, Rochelle. Never forget.
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Dear Jane,
I fear as even the youngest of the survivors are leaving us, we do tend to forget. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Maybe ‘forget’ is the wrong word. I can’t forget since I wasn’t there, have not been touched at a personal level, but the Holocaust transcends individual memory, it’s part of the memory of humanity and will always be remembered even when the deniers and the bigots and other worms that live in the woodwork and under stones raise their ugly voices .
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Ouch.
Beautifully crafted, devastatingly finished.
This is what you do better than anyone.
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Dear C.E.
I don’t want to be perceived as a ‘one-note’ but when these a prompt sends me there, there I must go. Thank you for such a lovely compliment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Beautifully written, Rochelle.It took me from the banal to the awful in a single swoop
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Thank you for such a wonderfully worded compliment, Neil.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Well done. I like that trees whizzing by because i could see it and also how it affected the character as compared to Dad for whom it was a different experience altogether.
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Dear Cuzzin Notnek,
You went exactly where I wanted you to go. I was indeed going for the contrast between what the train rides meant to the girl and her dad. I can only imagine. Thank you.
Shalom,
Cuzzin Shelley
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Then, I AM awake at this hour!
Back to bed now. zzzz!
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I can only imagine his fear… I lived a block from a stockyards growing up where they would load the livestock in cars every fall. It was horrible to hear their screams… I can only imagine it a million times worse with people. I used to sit on the old ramp on our side of the cracks and cry for the animals.
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Dear Jelli,
I can’t imagine either. I write these stories often because I have to. I’ve no doubt you understand. Thank you for sharing your own insights and history.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I understand the “need” to write it down. I’ve been doing the same with my own experiences but not quite ready to make them public.
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When you’re ready, you’ll know. ❤
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This pic is going to take some serious thinking upon…ach, but can I do it in only 100 words…doubtful.
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Excellent story. A common thing among survivors to have everyday reminders of their trauma. PTSD has a way of recurring at the oddest times, and it’s always emotionally devastating. The train rides were hideous indeed. One of the most moving depictions I have seen was in Art Spiegelman’s comic masterpiece Maus. It’s a tough read, but I think it’s important to keep this in mind these days with all the bluster about deporting immigrants.
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Dear J Hardy,
PTSD comes in a variety of packages. I can only imagine what images a train ride would conjure up in the mind of a survivor. (No doubt, my imagination pales next to reality.)
It would do well to remember how many Jewish refugees were turned away from the US and sent to their deaths in the camps. Nuff said.
In any event, thank you for your insights, comments and compliments.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I was in the first wave of Boomers, born in 1947, so WWII stories were part of my growing up. This one says so much in so few words. Heart-rending, Rochelle.
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Dear Linda,
I was born a few years later in 1953. I remember friends and family members with the tell-tale tattoos. The Holocaust was practically a current event back then, wasn’t it? Thank you for your kind words.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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This one told a story without telling it…. I understood it anyway and I can truly understand it without scrolling down to the image below. If I didn’t know your background it could have been Gulag as well of course.
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Dear Björn,
I debated on whether or not to include a photo. I’m glad the story was self-explanatory. How humans can treat other humans this way, especially children, is beyond me. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Will he ever tell her more, I wonder? And will she want to hear it? Splendid as always, Rochelle.
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Dear Karen,
In my mind, that moment is when he did open up to her about why he hated to ride trains. Up until then she wondered why he wouldn’t ever go on those trips to St. Louis.
Thank you for your kind compliment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Wonderful glimpse into how the same experience can have such different meanings for two different people, and how traumatic events can sear themselves onto everyday objects for years afterward. Powerful image.
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Dear Joy,
I love fireworks but I know of war veterans who are triggered by them. Thank you for such an insightful comment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Ah, another very good example, yes. It’s good to remember that other people’s “irrational” fears deserve as much patience and respect and kindness as our own. I don’t know anyone who isn’t scared of something, whether it’s spiders or heights or public speaking or letting other people into their hearts.
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Great job, Rochelle — as usual.
This reminds me of how grateful I am for the Catholic school in my hometown.I’m not Catholic, but as a newspaper reporter, I’ve done several stories on the church and school because they are so pro-active in so many important ways in our society. In the midst of a wave of programs in the U. S. educational system that are working to convince the next generation that the holocaust never happened, this school has a teacher who spends an entire term in her history class teaching in detail on the holocaust. She has interviewed survivors and relatives of survivors, and she brings the truth in glaring detail to her students. At least the hundreds of children (some of them from other nations) who go through her classes will never fail to understand, and they will never forget. We praise the Lord for her courage and determination.
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Dear Sandra,
May Adonai bless that teacher with strength and many more years. Tell her she has my undying gratitude.
Thank you re my story.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Contrasts. You do it so well in all your stories whether they are the 100 words or not. I have seen you do this in so many different genres but it still amazes me every time. Such a talent.
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Dear Jan,
Always nice to have positive feedback from my other half. Thank you. ❤
Love,
Rochelle
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I heard the trains, felt the reluctance and smelled all those poor people crammed into one car. Bravo!
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Dear Alicia,
That’s the best compliment you can give this author. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Heart wrenching!
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Thank you, Louise.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Such a terrible burden for him to bear. I feel for him. You do this so well.
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Dear Sandra,
I know this is one of my repetitive soapbox stories. But I can’t seem to help myself. Thank you for your kind words.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Good take on the photo, a neat turn-around. I still haven’t gotten the FF “frog” to appear for me — have been blog hopping to find out who all belongs.
We’re the same age! (I’m a March ’53 model.)
My (uncle) Dad went overseas but never talked about the war. Alas! He was a WASP through and through; he never had much use for Europeans of any variety.
It grieves me to know that kids nowadays aren’t learning history. Neither the history of the War years nor of the Depression years — which are important factors, too. IMO, History gives you your roots. It tells you where your people have been, your country has been, where you fit in the grand scheme of things. (And usually it tells you how good you have it, so quit griping and deal with your relatively minor issues.)
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Dear Christine,
I like your take on history. I’m the September model. 😉 Class of 1971. Thank you re my story and let me know if I can assist you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Glad I made sense. I feel, if people don’t know any history they soon come to think they are the center of the world. That today’s thinking is the only thinking that ever made sense.
I’ve decided to post my Friday Fictioneers stories on my fiction blog, Christine Composes. I’ll add the participants to my blogroll there, which will make it easier for me, since the InLinkz icon does zinch for me. Would you please post today’s prompt link on your list. Thanks.
https://christinecomposes.com/2017/01/11/jack-miners-discovery/
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The deed is done, my dear. You’re #43.
You make perfect sense to me. It’s the rest of the world that doesn’t anymore.
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Thank you.
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You managed to put so much history and pain in so few words, Rochelle. It seems extraordinary that people who went through the Holocaust survived afterwards – physically or mentally. To punish the human mind and body to that extent and for them still to be able to live a life afterwards – it might sound like a cliche, but it’s a testament to human endurance, strength and the power of hope.
Passionate, heartfelt writing
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Dear Lynn,
I, too, find it hard to fathom, the resilience of the human spirit. Some never recover and some do and never look back. Last spring I had the privilege of meeting with and interviewing a survivor. She held nothing back in telling her story. Lovely lady.
Re my story, this does seem to be my soapbox. Thank you so much for your affirming comments.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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That must have been extraordinary, talking to that lady. What a unique experience and a privilege to speak to survivors while we still can.
We have a regular customer in our shop – a Jewish lady who was a child in Germany just before the war started. Her father was a stamp dealer and secured their escape with the help of some valuable stamps he smuggled out, sewn into the lining of his jacket. She swears she has never wanted to return to Germany, that it could never be her home after all that happened.
She came over to Bristol where she grew up, married, had a family of her own. People can be so amazing, can’t they? Wonderful work, Rochelle
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Brilliant, as per usual. So much told in so few words and the contrast between the little girl’s joy and the old man’s pain was a punch in the gut. How do you do it?
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Dear Dale,
How do I do it? I listen to the voices in my head and write whatever they tell me to. 😉 Many thanks.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you to Rochelle’s voices! May they never be silent….
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A timely reminder Rochelle. Touching story.
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Thank you, Iain.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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You can never know the hard battles some people are fighting on the battleground of their hearts and souls.
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Dear James,
As I’ve gotten older I’ve often wished I’d asked my grandfather about his youth. I only knew that he’d come from Poland as a teen to escape the bloody pogroms in Eastern Europe. He didn’t know his true birth date. In retrospect, I suspect that he was a closed off person because of he horrors he’d experienced. Live and learn and try to be an understanding human.
Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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My wife’s mother didn’t even tell her she was Jewish until she was a young adult. Her Mom had some falling out with her family at the beginning of WW2, so she left them in Boston and joined the Marines. At the end of the war, she met my father-in-law, a Navy yeoman, and they were married. She never talked about being Jewish to her kids and it was only by accident that my wife found out the truth.
Out of five children, only my wife has returned to Jewish identity and praxis. I’m sure there are a lot of questions she wishes she could have asked her family before they died. If only she’d been raised to know who she is.
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Sad to say, it’s not a unique situation. My gr-gr-grandfather was kidnapped at age nine from the streets of (what he think was) London, by a navy press gang. Whether his name was really John Smith or if the sailors just dubbed him that, we don’t know. Our family history on his side only began when he managed to escape in Halifax, NS, at age fourteen.
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There are many stories like these. As for me, I always knew who I was and where I came from. I credit my mother of blessed memory with that. It seems that, after persecutions, some Jews went into perpetual hiding. I’ve a few friends who were surprised to find out they were Jewish. Thanks to both of you, James and Christine for sharing your stories with me.
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2006 there was an exhibition in France about these trains. They showed them at different train stations, as a reminder of the Holocaust. We can’t have enough reminders.
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Dear Bridget,
I agree. There can’t be too many reminders. That’s why I write the stories (and books) that I do. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Such a contrast between the young girl and her father, powerful writing, Rochelle.
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Thank you, Mike. 😀
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Oh that last line gave me chills! You captured it perfectly Rochelle.
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Many thanks for a wonderful compliment, Jessie.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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i can fully understand his feelings. when i visited auschwitz, i was told up to 150 people were packed into those cattle cars. it’s horrible to think it was just the beginning of their sufferings. the worse was yet to come.
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Dear Plaridel,
I’ve never been there, although, my earliest childhood remembrances are those horrid black and white films. I can only imagine…actually cannot imagine how bad it really was. Thank you for your affirming comments that keep me writing stories such as these.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Yeah, I’ll bet he hated trains. That was a horrible time in human history. A time too horrible to remember, too vile to forget. Excellent story, Rochelle. You put a lot into a very few words.
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Dear Eric,
It’s akin to the stories you hear about war vets being spooked by fireworks and other loud noises. “Too horrible to remember, too vile to forget.” Brilliant line, May I quote you? Thank you for such a great comment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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My pleasure! Use it any time. 🙂
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What dreadful memories to carry for the rest of his life.
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Dreadful indeed, Liz. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Very evocative, from the title that says so much, through to the child’s positive association with trains the Daddy’s unimaginable horror
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Dear Siobhán,
The title is actualy borrowed from a poem written at Terezin by one of the Jewish children. You can find it here http://fcit.usf.edu/holocaust/arts/litvicti.htm
Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you for the link Rochelle. What a powerful poem, and how sad that a child should have so much insight
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Those children grew up fast and so many had their lives cut short.
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So moving in so few words…
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Many thanks, Claire. 😀
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Beautifully told. A story that can’t be retold often enough.
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Dear Gabi,
And that’s why I will keep telling them whenever inspired. Thank you so much.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Wow, A pretty heart wrenching story Rochelle.
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Dear Al,
A comment prefaced by “Wow” will always make my day. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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🙂
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It is not right what those people had to go through! Your piece brings it sharply, yet unexpectedly, into our thoughts.
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Dear Colline,
No on should ever be put through that kind of horror. Thank you for your affirming comments.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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That was very powerful. Thank you for sharing that personal story.
This is my first time participating in Friday Fictioneers and I hope to explore your site more often in the near future.
I hope you will visit my blog also as I am newly back into the blogging scene as I took several years off to raise my little ones and I sure could use some comments and or a follow too 🙂
– Lisa
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Dear Lisa,
In reality, this story isn’t personal. It is a ‘favorite’ theme of mine…perhaps more of a soapbox. Thank you for reading and commenting.
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers. Happy to have you aboard.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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A sad truth… I can’t imagine the pain and suffering. The Holocaust was such a horrible tragedy. There is no way people should be able to deny it happened, yet they do.. 😦
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Dear Courtney,
I certainly don’t understand how anyone can deny the Holocaust. The Nazis were so ‘good’ about recording their deeds and keeping efficient records. The more time passes, the easier it is to say it was all staged, I suppose.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Heavy, chilling stuff. Great piece.
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Thank you, Ali,
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Oh, so heavy. Well told Rochelle, as always you hit me right in the emotional center
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Dear Laurie,
I would apologize for ‘hitting’ you but I’ll take it as a compliment. 😉 Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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You are amazing!
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Very chilling story. When I read the line “Dad, on the other hand, hated trains” I understood and the music “Different Trains” by Steve Reich started playing in my mind. If you don’t know it, look it up, but be sure you read about it before you listen and you’ll understand why I thought of it. Anyway, great story.
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Dear Trent,
Thank you for the Steve Reich tip. Powerful piece of music. I see why your mind went there. I feel honored. Thank you for your affirming comments.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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It is very powerful music and your story, despite its brevity, is very powerful.
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The last line is a chilling reminder. Brilliantly penned – it went from a warm bright colorful day to one that was grim grey and overcast.
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Dear Dahlia,
Thank you for such glowing words. They add sunshine to an overcast day.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Brilliant Rochelle as always, heart wrenching. It brings to mind as well a track called Trains by Al Stewart, you tube link below. I can never listen to it all the way through without welling up, you mighht want to give it a listen if you’re not familiar with it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wn9NUmPV_Ts
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Dear Michael,
Thank you for the compliments and the link. “Smudges of smoke against the sky…” good song.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Dear Henny Penny,
I’m surprised they got Dad on their for a single ride after such a horrible childhood experience with trains. Loved the contrasts in perceptions.
Eat a bowl of Fruit Loops and call me in the morning,
Dr. Ben Case-Uvem
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Dear Dr. Ben Case-Uvem,
It appears the sky is about to fall in our area according to the weather jockeys. I only hope we aren’t hit with a power outage. Meanwhile the whole city’s in a panic which means there will be no milk or bread to be had on supermarket shelves. Lucky for me I’m gluten free and lactose intolerant, eh? Guess that cancels out the Fruit Loops.
Not sure how they got Dad on the train, but I wouldn’t have had a story if they hadn’t. 😉 Seriously, thank you for such a nice comment.
Shalom,
Henny Penny
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Yes, I saw the potential for ice storms in your area. The worst possible weather in my opinion.
Perhaps a bowl of cold gruel then?
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Dear Henny,
Just so you’ll know, I put on clean underwear before visiting your site in case I trip and fall over some of the comments and have to go to the ER.
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Unimaginable
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Indeed, Keith. Unimaginable is one word for it.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Dear Rochelle
Such horror. It’s just impossible to get inside the heads of the perpetrators of this act of genocide, especially those who gave the orders in the first place, having rationalised that the creation of a master race (as they perceived it) was for the good of the world. Strange how Hitler didn’t fit the Aryan picture of physical perfection at all, part of which was to have blond hair. Shows how mad he was.
There is one thing that makes me glad in your story; that the girl was not having to go through what her ancestors had suffered.
Your contrast between the two was brilliant, and that last sentence felt like the mental equivalent of a hard punch in the guts.
Well done.
All best wishes,
Sarah
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Dear Sarah,
The crazy thing is that there are many blonde blue-eyed Jews. My aunt was one. My mother’s twin brother had red hair and the bluest eyes you ever saw, while my mother had black hair and brown eyes. There is a true story of how in Nazi Germany a picture was published of the “perfect Aryan child” only to found to be Jewish. No happy ending there, she perished.
As a child growing up in the 50’s, the Holocaust was practically current events. Although my mom was born and raised in the US, she had relatives who perished overseas. So you could say I grew up in the shadow of the horror. But it was nothing compared to what that father in the story (and some people I knew) went through.
Thank you for such a wonderful comment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
PS Just finished Noah Padgett this morning. What a delightful read. 😀
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Dear Rochelle
My paternal grandmother had really dark hair and dark eyes and was terrified of the Nazis invading England, because she looked so Jewish.
I know about the fair Jews. I used to have a Jewish boyfriend who had strawberry blond hair and pale blue eyes. He was the son of a Rabbi, so we couldn’t get too serious as I was a gentile and he felt it his duty to marry a Jewish girl. I was very sad about this at the time, but respected him for it, too.
I’m so glad that you enjoyed Noah Padgett 🙂
All best wishes
Sarah
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Dear Sarah,
My mom wasn’t too happy with me when I married a gentile boy. And my Uncle Norman (mom’s twin) had a fit when we name our third son Christian. (He’s named after my husband’s great great grandfather.)
Thank you for sharing that bit of your past with me. 😉 Gathering my thoughts to leave a review for Noah.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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It is so pithy and poignant! Wonder how many carry such scars!
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Dear Sabina,
The worst scars are often those not seen with eye, aren’t they? Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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What a difference in experience. Some memories really won’t fade away.
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Thank your for your comments, Alice.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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You have a great talent in making history real and keeping it fresh. If we relegate history to the past we are more likely to repeat it.
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Dear Cindy,
I recently read that without the past there is no future. I believe this. Thank you for such kind words.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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This is a great reminder of the innocence of children. One day she will fully understand. Until then, I hope she dances with the sunlight.
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Dear Laura,
Thank you for your sweet words.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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You can’t lock away personal traumas forever. Talking starts the healing. I hope that’s the case with your character.
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Dear Tracey,
I share your hope. I think perhaps this moment was the beginning for him. At least I’d like to think so.
Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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It is so interesting how we hope and pray for these fictional characters. There are non-writes who will never understand this.
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One line. One piece of dialogue. It brought me to tears! So powerful! Well done!
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Dear Ashley,
Many thanks for your tears and comments.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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A beautiful, albeit tragic, end to the story. Really changed the dynamic and surprised me. Great piece! 🙂
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Dear Sara,
Many thanks for a great comment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Old traumatic memories are nasty. I’ve been reading a book about World War I that explains how bad that kind of thing can be
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Dear Larry,
PTSD is no respecter of persons, nor is it relegated only to Vietnam vets. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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It’s a recent term but it’s among mankind’s oldest problems
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I liked your story when I first read it on Wednesday, but reserved my comment until I’d time to process the sadness of it. Union Station in St. Louis, MO is where my husband and I fell in love. It seems I always find a deeper connection with your stories than initially expected. This one was no different. Lovely in every way.
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Dear STePHonie,
Your comment means so much to me. Thank you for sharing your bit of history with me. Thank you so much. I can’t tell you what your comment means to me on a very gray, emotional day.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Here’s one of the reasons for the lack of color…aside from the ice storm. https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2017/01/14/voice-in-the-wilderness/ (I don’t usually do this but it’s something I wanted to share…or rather stand on the rooftops and scream about. )
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I cannot even imagine, although your story helps me to.
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I try in my stories, bu I really can’t imagine, Dawn. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I wouldn’t blame anyone who’d been through that not liking trains. It would probably make me physically ill. Good story and writing, as usual, Rochelle. —- Suzanne
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Dear Suzanne,
We can only imagine. Thank you for your generous words.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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It’s still hard to accept how inhumane we can be. I sometimes wonder whether we’re hard wired to be like that.
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Dear Patrick,
I’d like to think it isn’t so. Thank you for stopping by.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Some memories are just so hard to shake.
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Dear Chioma,
I think those memories would be impossible to shake, although I know from personal experience that the mind can also blot them out. Thank you for commenting.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Some experiences are so horrific, they never leave. Beautifully expressed.
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Dear Claire,
I don’t know how anyone could forget. Thank you for your comment/compliment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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You capture the journey so well in the beginnning that we feel like we are there.
But we can only begin to glimpse the horrors her father has seen, hinted at in the heartwrenching, tragic final sentence.
Brilliant writing as always Rochelle
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Dear TRG,
Thank you for such a generous comment/compliment.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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🙂
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Rochelle, such a visceral story that’s a reminder of the terrible memories many associate with experiences which seem innocuous even pleasant to us. As someone who loves trains, it was such a kick in the end to be reminded of the terrible use they’ve been put to. Hard to even imagine what it would be like. Thank you for sharing this reflection and keeping the memories fresh before us.
Anne
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Dear Anne,
I’m encouraged when I receive such positive feedback for these stories since I do tend to repeat the theme. When prompted I always will…Thank you for your kind words.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Such a sad story told so eloquently. It is depressing that the world has still not learnt its lesson by now.
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Dear Subroto,
It is depressing indeed. And the disease goes merrily on. I don’t usually promote another story in the comment section of my blog…however, this story is a true one I wrote to vent my outrage. A week hasn’t passed since this happened, so I’m still reeling. https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2017/01/14/voice-in-the-wilderness/
Thank you and shalom,
Rochelle
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The shock and burden would never leave you. And so it was, and so it continues… in other places, with other people. Hauntingly simple story of trauma, Rochelle.
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Dear Dawn,
Well said. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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