There is a road some fifty-three miles NNE of New York City with a strange reputation. This week, Pegman has stranded you there.Volumes have been written about Clinton Road in West Milford, NJ, but you only need to write 150 words. The only limit is your imagination.Feel free to capture your own streetview. If you’re not up to a weird tale, feel free to wander anywhere within the state of New Jersey for your story.Once your 150 words are polished, you can share with other contributors using the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!
Many thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge that gives me 50 more words to play with. 😉
While the photo below is taken from the Pegman Buffet, I must confess, despite the directives, I didn’t stay in New Jersey. I went to Rickey Road in Raytown, Missouri, where, as with Clinton Road, the stories abound.
Genre: Fictionalized Memoir
Word Count: 150
WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT
I looked forward to my troop’s wilderness excursions. Had it not been for scouting, I might never have seen the great outdoors beyond my backyard. My parents, while not religiously observant, adhered to the eleventh commandment—“Jews don’t camp.”
Overnights were the best. Following an afternoon of dodging poison ivy and climbing hills, we’d gather around the campfire. Our mouths and fingers gooey from roasted marshmallows, we topped off the day with ghost stories about the infamous and spooky Rickey Road.
“My uncle found a man’s head in the grass,” said Lucy in a loud whisper.
“Ooooooo,” we’d giggle. “Gross!”
Margo’s cheeks glowed in the blaze. “It opened its eyes and screamed, ‘I want my golden arm!’”
Our childish imaginations kicked into overdrive. Each storyteller sought to outdo the last.
Back home in my own bed, I wouldn’t sleep for a month without a nightlight.
I miss those good times.
*********
Those were the days, my friend!!!
BTW, I thought the 11th Commandment was, “Bennetts don’t camp!”
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Dear Frances,
How sweet to see you here. I seem to remember your mom and mine connecting on a mother daughter hike. 😉 Hm. I wonder if the Bennetts might be part of the lost tribe.
Your presence here validates my story. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I love this story! It brought back every thrilling and happy memory about camp.
Are you in the middle back row, by chance?
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Dear Karen,
I’m actually second from the left on the second row. (I kind of gave it away in my inLinkz icon. 😉 I’m pleased that you enjoyed the story. It seems there’s a legendary spooky road everywhere. I’ve never actually been on Rickey Road, but the stories abound. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Aha! I hopped over from facebook. Now I see it! I know those brows 🙂 Maybe it’s best you stayed away from Rickey Road…
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I knew that was you! 😉
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This story will probably bring memories for all of us. We had tons of scary stories growing up. Nice story. P.S., you have been on Rickey Road. We used to drive up it of Noland Road. Twisty, narrow woods lined road that invoked many stories..
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Dear Jan,
I stand corrected. I’d forgotten about those drives. Glad you enjoyed the ride.
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Your story reminds me of something that could happen on an episode of Boris Karloff’s “The Veil.” I’ve been watching it regularly lately.
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Dear Larry
Interesting perception. Of course nothing more sinister happens in my story than a bunch of little girls playing one upmanship in scaring the others out of there wits. 😉 Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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What I should have said was, the part about finding a head in the grass. The girls were telling stories that were like the show.
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That’s a lovely portrayal of a camp (although I’ve never understood the delights of toasted marshmallows!). Childhood can be such a wonderful time. Those camps sound like an ideal place to nurture imagination and story-telling. You conjure up the atmosphere wonderfully!
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Dear Penny,
I loved those marshmallows blackened on the outside and then smooshed between two graham crackers and chocolate bar. I’m pleased that the atmosphere came through for you. My mission has been accomplished. 😉 Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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The joys of a camp – your tender story brings them all back ! Away from parents, not washing (!) talking til late, ghosties in the dark, dark night……
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Dear Francine,
I really did adore those campouts. 😀 Glad this brought it back for you, too. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Dear Rochelle,
What a great story. Man, that brought me way back… Camp Wilvakin – in the Eastern Townships of Quebec… Grade 5. Bloodsuckers. Ghost stories. At least a hundred years ago!
Lotsa love,
Dale
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Dear Dale,
It seems like many of us have similar memories. Happy to stir some of yours. 😀 Thank you..
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Hmmm… I was gonna write a whole ‘nuther story for Pegman, but now I’m thinking I’ll have to go way back to grade 5…
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😀
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Loved your story Rochelle…stories of childhood always seem to have some sweet nostalgic magic …more please…
What an adorable gaggle of little girls …….
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Dearest Valerie,
How lovely to see you here.. and with such a kind comment. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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This is a charming story, Rochelle. I still remember ghost stories from camp in Arizona. There was one about a man trapped in the Bonita Mines who wore his fingers down to claws trying to dig himself out.
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Dear Josh,
I suspect that those ghost stories circulate and take on different names and locations, but are pretty much the same all over. 😉 Those campouts are amongst my fondest memories. They lit up my childhood. Thank you for the “charming” comment. 😉
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I remember those wilderness excursions and campfires as well. The girls, the campfire, and the campfire stew:
Brown hamburger in medium pot, drain off fat.
Add 2 cans tomato soup, 2 cans vegetable soup, and 2 soup cans full of water.
Stir well and heat through.
I spent time several years ago tracking this recipe down! I remember how delicious this tasted in the chill of the evening!
Thanks for the memories, Rochelle! So glad we shared these memories together all those years ago!
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Dear Margo,
Thanks for the recipe. I remember making campfire dinners, too. Hamburger, potatoes and carrots wrapped in foil and put in the first. I also remember the little stoves we made out of #10 cans.
So many good times we had. I, too, am glad we shared those memories together and can share them together again. I love this photo and am so grateful to you for sending it to me.
So sweet that you came around to comment. Adds fuel to my campfire. 😉
Shalom,
Rochelle
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great days with wonderful memories….My grandfather was reading your post, we learned these times and generation was the best!!
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Dear Mihrank.
How sweet that your grandfather read my post, too. Thank you for your kind words.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Ah, youth the time for thrills and the time for joy all shared ’round a bonfire. Good job with the writing exercise! If you have a look at my posts – if I am lucky enough to deserve a look – please do not hesitate to leave a feedback, negative or positive. I want to improve, desperately, as a writer.
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Dear Issa,
I love the writing exercises afforded by these challenges to write a story in 150 words or less. They’ve been a great boon to my writing, teaching us how to conserve words. As writers we tend to be very wordy, don’t we? 😉 Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I agree. It is a tendency of writers. And so, it is a good challenge to try and hold back the wordiness as much as one can. 🙂 very welcome!
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Hi again, Issa,
I did go to your site and read one of your installments and read Lynn’s comment. Spot on. We do learn as we go, don’t we? I hope, perhaps, you might take part in one of these challenges. This one, Pegman is a good one at 150 words or the one I facilitate, Friday Fictioneers. https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/02/27/2-march-2018/
The new prompt for FF goes up every Wednesday.
shalom,
Rochelle
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This just made me smile. Telling crazy stories around the campfire was good living. You really brought that back for me. Thanks Rochelle.
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Dear Eric,
Those were the best of times. Happy to rekindle the memories for you. 😉 Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I’m thinking second from the left in the middle row?
There are so many things I miss from the days of innocence. Like innocence, for a start 🙂 I never did an overnight camp-out, that would have been fun. Nice one!
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Dear Ali,
I’m pretty easy to spot in the photo. And since I cropped it for my inlinkz icon…;)
Those campouts stand out in my memories as some of the best times. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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I love this. That sweet sense of excitement and adventure you only get when you’re small and away from home, your gooey fingers, the whispered, gross-out stories – the fact you couldn’t sleep without a night light for a month! Perfect level of detail, lovely story – would love to read more of this, even if it was embroidered with fiction, you strike such a good tone. And I honestly guessed that was you, second row second from left – you haven’t changed a bit! 🙂
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Dear Lynn,
Your lovely comments have me grinning so much my face hurts. 😀 Thank you. You made my morning. (Yeah I’ve always been easy to spot in pictures.)
Shalom,
Rochelle
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All comments earned and well deserved, Rochelle. My pleasure
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Ghost stories around the fire. Never experienced them myself, though our family camped out quite a bit in my youth.
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Dear James,
My family’s idea of a picnic was opening a window. 😉 Those scouting excursions saved my childhood in many ways. Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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My Dad took us all over the place with his pick up truck and camper shell. I saw most of the Western U.S. from campgrounds as a child.
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A flash fiction story and a half, Rochelle. Those extra 50 words bring out the best in you.
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Dear Kelvin,
Those 50 extra words give more freedom than one would think. But when you’re used to writing only 100… 😉 Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Oh, the memories of smoke in your eyes, and dirty clothes, and hot dogs falling in the fire. I loved every minute. Thanks for the reminder, must pull out the camping gear!
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Dear Lish,
And the hot dogs tasted better after they fell into the fire, didn’t they?Then you’d go home smelling like smoke. Great times those. 😀 Thank you.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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One time Donn and I camped for a week on the Washington coast and it took another week to get the smell of the campfire out of my hair. LOVED it.
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I love the Eleventh Commandment. My son loved scouting. I didn’t enjoy the out-of-doors.I wonder if the Mafia buried bodies along that road. Good writing as always, Rochelle. 🙂 — Suzanne
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Dear Suzanne,
The boy scouts roughed it a lot more than the girls. I didn’t particularly enjoy cookouts in November with my son’s troop. But we did have the ghost stories in common. Thank you. 😀
Shalom,
Rochelle
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