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World Travelers: Friday Fictioneers

Published July 18, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Every week at least one hundred global writers shorten the distance by sharing  their flash fictions based on a single photo prompt. I have the honor and privilege of  hosting the Friday Fictioneers challenge created by Madison Woods three years ago. I’ll probably never meet each one face to face, although I’ve been able to meet up with a few.

This past week, Friday Fictioneers Bill and Janet Webb had lunch Sandra Crook and her husband Neville on their boat in France.

The Crooks and the Webbs

From left to right: Neville and Sandra Crook, Janet and Bill Webb (who resembles neither zombie nor zed).

Also among our world travelers is Dawn Landau who lives in Washington state met with fellow fictioneer Björn Rudberg for lunch in Stockholm.

Dawn and Björn

I love putting more than faces to names, don’t you?

When Friday Fictioneers Meet

Published November 21, 2013 by rochellewisoff

HEY YOU GUYS!

If you came here expecting a 100 word flash fiction, you might be disappointed. While I realize I’m breaking my own rule by linking something other than a short story I thought this post would be of interest to Friday Fictioneers. It may not be a short story, but as you can see there is a short facilitator. 

Friday, November 15, 2013 at Ye Olde English Inn in Branson, MO, the entertainment capitol of the Midwest eight of the, sometimes, over one hundred writers met face to face and person person. photo_1From left to right: Beth Carter, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, Madison Woods, Janet Webb, Karen Nelson, Russell Gayer, Jan Morrill and Kent Bonham.

photo_3Some of you may remember K.D. McCrite who wrote for Friday Fictioneers until success as an author has whisked her from our midst. She was the speaker for our morning session. She left us without excuses. 😉

photo_3 (1)

LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION!

FRIDAY’S BUS

Published October 18, 2012 by rochellewisoff

It’s with mixed emotions I post my story inspired by Ron Pruitt’s photo prompt. This is Madison’s last week as Friday Fictioneers leader and my last week as one just of the gang. She will be one tough act to follow.  Click here for other FF stories. Enjoy! 

My offering this week is a tribute to Madison and our diverse global community that I hope continues to grow and flourish. 

*Note: I don’t think I can put the linkz tool on my blog without upgrading. So it looks like we’ll be back to posting our blog addresses here and in our comments. I’m open to any and all feedback or instruction on this. 

****

copyright-Ron Pruitt

Apprehensions whelmed the new driver. How could she steer this behemoth? Her feet barely reached the gas pedal.

A lithe maiden with pointed ears and iridescent wings floated past her.  Next was an imposing man whose black silk cape skimmed the floor. One by one, diverse passengers stowed their baggage and found their seats.

“Welcome,” said the last in line. “I’m Russell.”

Warmed by his congenial smile she tried not to stare at his plastic clown nose and grasped his offered hand.

Zzzzzzt! His joy buzzer sent shockwaves to her shoulder.  

He chortled. “Are we there yet?” 

24 November 2017

Published November 22, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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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

Please be respectful of your fellow writer/readers and keep your story to 100 words. Thank you. 

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Wrote a longer piece? Don’t think you can cut it back? The following excerpt from my second novel FROM SILT AND ASHES turned flash fiction was originally 308 words long. Obviously that would go way over the word limit. So, first I had to decide what I want to say in 100 words. Once I decided, I tweaked some of the sentences to fit and lost four other characters in the chapter. 😉 Naturally it’s my hope that this will whet your appetite to read the longer version, ie the book and, perhaps the trilogy. I thank you. Havah thanks you. 😀

Genre: Historical Fiction (circa 1905)

Word Count: 100

A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

A pile of torn paper remained on the floor where Rachel had been playing. Havah’s anxiety mounted. She only turned her head for a moment.

What if her blind toddler meandered out into the path of an oncoming automobile?  

Kreplakh cocked her head, barked and scampered around Havah’s feet.

“You fell down on the job, you stupid mutt. Rachel! Rachel!”

Kreplakh ran to the closet and scratched at the door.

“You want in there?” Havah yanked it open and sank to her weakened knees.

There in the laundry basket, amid petticoats and linens, thumb in mouth, slept little lost Rachel.

 

 

17 November 2017

Published November 15, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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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 © J Hardy Carroll

Please be considerate and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you. 

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

LAST RITES

Grandma Tollard met Jeannie at the front door, her long grey hair askew. She seized Jeannie’s arm with one bony hand. “Thank you for coming, dear.”

“What happened?”

“I…we, that is…he…he had a heart attack and—”

“Did you call 911?”  

“—he’s dead. I called Fr. Jenson.”

Grandma clutched her lace peignoir robe at the neck and led Jeannie to the bedroom. Biting her quivering lip, Jeannie pulled the sheet over her grandfather’s grinning countenance.

She wrapped a comforting arm around her weeping grandmother.

Grandma sniffed. “I’ll never forget his final words to me.”

“What were they?”  

“‘Hi-ho Silver!’”

Many thanks to my BFF Jeannie O’Hare for her generosity in allowing me to share her strange but true family stories. Some things just can’t be made up…but they can be embellished. 

Jeannie and me

To hear my interview on Impact USA radio last week  CLICK HERE

A Lovely Interview

Published November 14, 2017 by rochellewisoff

I will make this blog short and, hopefully, sweet. 

Last week I had the unexpected pleasure of interviewing with Dr. Paul Reeves on Impact USA out of Detroit. Click on his name under the photo to learn more. 

I say unexpected because it all came about quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. 

I was chatting in a Facebook private message with friend Caroline Giammanco , author of “The Boonie Hat Bandit” and “Guilty Hearts” who asked if I would be interested in doing an interview. If so she could get me in touch with Deborah Ratliff who gathers info for Dr. Paul. (Are you with me?) I emailed my particulars to Deborah and within hours I received an email from Dr. Paul. I’ll stop there since my head’s spinning just writing it. 

Here I am with Caroline in Chicago May before last.

Without further adieu, here’s the interview if you have 30 minutes to spare. For those of you in Friday Fictioneers, you’ll note that the subject came up more than once. Perhaps we’ll see Dr. Paul in our midst as a Fictioneer in the not too distant future. 

10 November 2017

Published November 8, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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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 © Marie Gail Stratford

Please be respectful to your readers and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you. 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FOR THE DEAD AND THE LIVING, WE MUST BEAR WITNESS *

            I remember it like it was yesterday—November 9, 1963 in Chicago, my father took me downtown to celebrate my 10th birthday.

            His German accent sounded like music. “Vhere shall ve go, schatzi?”

            “The Art Institute.”

            I skipped along the sidewalk, holding his hand. He stopped and went to his knees in front of a synagogue. Slipping off his hat, he covered his face. The sun limned his blond waves.  

            “What’s wrong, Vati?”  

            “Meine Schande. Those magnificent windows—shattered! 25 years ago today. Schweinehund!  Jewish businesses—destroyed! What did I do? Die Nill!  I—I stood by and did nothing.”

*Quote from Elie Wiesel 

 79 years ago this week. 

3 November 2017

Published November 1, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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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 © Sarah Ann Hall

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Please be considerate and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you. 

Once more another excerpt from my trilogy as I prepare the coffee table companion book, A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. Designed for those who like art and very short stories. 😉 This is an excerpt from the third in the series, AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. A little background for those unfamiliar. The menorah in the story is a ‘character’ of sorts. Crafted by Yussel’s father, it has survived the pogroms and the long journey to America.

Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1907

Word Count: 100

FAMILY HEIRLOOM

            Arel scowled. “Lev, where’ve you been?”

            “The library, I—” 

            “You missed supper.”  

            Havah grasped Arel’s arm and whispered, “Please let him explain.”

            “My house. My rules.” Arel slapped Lev, knocking Yussel’s menorah off the table.

            The ground listed beneath Havah’s feet.

            Lev gasped.      

            Yussel cried out, dropped to his knees and searched with trembling hands until he found the broken pieces. He hugged them to his chest.  Tears quivered in his sightless eyes.

            “It’s only one branch, Papa.” Havah knelt beside him. “Surely it can be fixed.”

            “Once a limb is severed can the tree be made whole again?”

27 October 2017

Published October 25, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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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 © Roger Bultot

Please be considerate and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you. 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FINAL CURTAIN CALL

“Sunrise, Sunset…” Will sang as he combed his thinning white hair, grinning at his reflection. “One season following…”

A sudden wave of exhaustion and chest pain whelmed him. Breathless, he sank into a chair, closing his eyes.

“Willie, you’ll be late for Hebrew school.”

“Let me rest a moment, Mama.” He opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. “Oy! I will be late for the show.” He kissed her faded photograph. “See you soon.”  

Later costar Carol Spinney, wearing his Big Bird feet, wrapped his arm around Will. “I love you, Mr. Looper.”

Will returned the hug. “Hooper! Hooper!”  

Carol “Big Bird” Spinney and Will Lee  

MORE INFO ON WILL LEE

20 October 2017

Published October 18, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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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

Please be considerate and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you. 

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This is a scene from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN, the third in my Havah Cohen Gitterman trilogy. By the third book, the characters have survived the hardships of Eastern European persecution. Many of them are dealing with what we know today as PTSD. This scene takes place in 1907 when little was known, much less addressed. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

AMNESIA 

            “All these years the only thing I remembered was her suicide. I’ve hated her for it,” Shayndel shuddered. “How could I forget why?”

            “You were only five,” whispered Fruma Ya’el. “It’s understandable—”

            Shayndel buried her head in her hands. “‘Jew bitch,’ they called her. ‘Get help!’ she begged me. But I couldn’t move. I—I watched as they—”

            Protracted memories riddled Shayndel. “Bayla never spoke again—until the morning she…she climbed the tree in the yard to the highest branch. Naked. Great with child. She spread her arms, smiled at me and said,” Shayndel choked, “‘Goodbye, little sister.’”

 

 

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