SWIMMING LESSON

Published December 17, 2017 by rochellewisoff

A resounding HAPPY ANNIVERSARY to Pegman. Can you believe it’s been a year already? Many happy returns to Karen and Josh. You’re doing a great job. 

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

This photo didn’t take me to Iowa, but to the back woods of Arkansas. The story is an edited snippet from a story in my short story anthology THIS, THAT AND SOMETIMES THE OTHER which is out of print (save copies still available from the author 😉 ) It’s still available on Kindle. The story is based on one of my husband’s memories of spending summers with his best friend Ray (Francis Ray Stills). We had fun working on the longer version together.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

SWIMMING LESSON

Granny Stillwell’s shack, built into the hills, was propped up on cinderblocks. Another rough-hewn cabin sat just the other side of a vegetable garden. A tire-less, 1940’s pick-up truck, also set on cinderblocks, had been pushed up against one wall “to keep it from a-leaning too much.”

After supper, his stomach full of catfish and rhubarb cobbler, Kenny Lord lazed on the porch and thought about the day.

“Hey, Lordy-Lordy, know how to swim?” 

“No.” 

“Time to learn.”  

He would never forget his terror when Boyce shoved him off the cliff to the Buffalo River 50 feet below. Boyce’s evil laughter filled his ears until water surged up his nose and his panic-stricken lungs blazed.

Kenny seethed. “Boyce better watch his back.”

“He was jest funnin’,’” said Frankie-Ray Stillwell.

Granny spat out a wad of chewing tobacco. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”

Kenny smirked. “That’s me, Kenneth Donald Lord.”

THE SWIMMING LESSON

 

LIGHT ONE CANDLE

Published December 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

I couldn’t resist. Since my initial story is more of a discussion than a story, I thought I’d take the liberty of posting a second piece. And since it’s Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of lights I’ve edited a snippet from PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME, my debut novel. In the scene, the Abromovich children tell the story of Hanukkah (sort of ) for their gentile guest. 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

LIGHT ONE CANDLE

          Twelve-year-old Zelig, the quintessential scholar, pointed to each Hebrew letter on the dreidel.  “They stand for ‘A great miracle happened there,’ Professor Dietrich.”

          As Zelig’s younger sisters, Ruth and Rukhel, set the table, they fluttered around it chirping like excited pigeons. Ulrich could hardly tell where one left off and the other began. Even their voices were identical.

         “Hanukkah is all about the Macaroons’ victory over their enemies in ancient days…It was a miracle…The oil in the temple menorah burned for eight whole days…That’s why we light the candles for eight nights.”

           Zelig rolled his eyes. “It’s Maccabees not macaroons!”

Click to hear Mayim Bialik shed light on the holiday. 

Ulrich Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Abromovich Children: B. Ruth, Rukhel, Front, left to right: Zelig, Velvil, Tuli
© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

dreidle

This is a dreidle I’ve had in my possession since I was four years old. Cheap plastic, but precious to me. The game of dreidle is one of the staples of Hanukkah. Each letter dictates whether or not the player takes a penny from the pot,tosses one in or takes them all.

15 December 2017

Published December 13, 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

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Genre: Realistic Friction

Word Count: 100

HONESTLY

Today my muse has taken a break, leaving my brain to slosh about my skull. Ideas float in bubbles and pop into nothingness, with no beginning, middle or end.

So, I’ll share a bit of nonfiction.

April 12, 2012 I joined Friday Fictioneers. Straightaway I became addicted in 100 words or less. Months later, Madison, FF creator, appointed me to be her successor as leader of this global community.   

I enjoy our various cultures and would love to comment on each and every story. With life’s busy-ness, am I wrong or unreasonable to only do so with those who reciprocate?

WUNDERKIND

Published December 11, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman turns us loose in Versailles. You can find streetview and an abundance of photospheres at this location. Feel free to find something inside or outside and snag a view that inspires you.

Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write 150 words inspired by the prompt. To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:

I’m quite late this week with the busy-ness of the holidays and some art commissions (not complaining) pending. I couldn’t resist the following photo because of where it took me. Below is an edited-to-fit-the-challenge snippet from my third novel, AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. 

Thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting and riding herd on this growing challenge. 

Versaille Palace

Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1908

Word Count: 150

WUNDERKIND

           If Ulrich had harbored any misgivings about whisking four-year-old Rachel away from her parents in Kansas City to take her on tour, she had dispelled them, concert after concert. Never was he prouder of her than this night as she performed for over 2,000 people at the Musikverein. Perhaps if she could see them, she might be frightened, but he had his doubts.           

            After she played “Für Elise” and Mozart’s “Turkish March” without missing a note, Ulrich sat her on a cushion beside him.

            The conductor of the Vienna Philharmonic, baton in hand, bowed. “Next, Herr Dietrich and Fräulein Gitterman will perform a particular favorite of mine, Johann Strauss’ ‘Vienna Waltz Number Four.’”

            Once they finished the duet, the audience burst into applause and shouts of “Brava!”

            Rachel, holding tight to Ulrich’s hand, followed him to center stage where she let go, curtsied and blew a kiss to the audience.

The Musikverein

           

 

8 December 2017

Published December 6, 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 © Dale Rogerson

Please be respectful of your readers and keep your story to 100 words or less. 

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What if the Capulets and Montagues had reconciled? Methinks things might have gone differently for the star-crossed lovers who, to be fair, barely knew each other. My humblest apologies to the Bard. 

Genre: Histrionic Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHAT FREEZINGS I HAVE FELT

 “Aye me, what weariness besets me. This unborn babe hath thrice disturb’d my slumber. Now light through yonder kitchen window breaks and childish voices assail. No rest. No rest. Anon himself hops through my door, his teeth bared. Is my Romeo ill of health?”

“Juliette, canst thou not sweep? A child’s plaything hath dug deep into my sole.”

“Canst thou not bend thy leaden arse to retrieve it? Where is he who scaled to my bedchamber pledging his undying love?”

“Alack. Better my life had ended with poison.”

“Oh churl! Better I had run myself through with thy happy dagger.”     

*******

And because I can…Announcing my new granddaughter

Elsie Lola Feraday-Fields

Born Sunday, 12 November 2017

Author Interview with Rochelle Wisoff Fields

Published December 5, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Since I did this interview our second granddaughter Elsie was born 12 November.

ELFF with eyes wide open

Book 'Em Book Club

Today we welcome Rochelle Wisoff Fields.

Book ‘Em:  Tell us about you and your life outside of writing.

Rochelle Wisoff Fields:  My husband Jan and I have been married for 46 years this November. We raised three sons who are spread from Upstate New York to Chicago to California. Our granddaughter Olive is 6 and her little sister is soon to make her appearance. When life closes in on me, the best way to de-stress is to walk (or drive if the weather’s inclement) to our nearby fitness center and swim laps. Between the fresh air and water, I always come back rejuvenated and ready to be creative. Besides writing, visual art is one of my passions. I was asked in another interview which I preferred, writing or painting. My response was that they’re on equal footing. Not only do I paint on commission, I also sketch and…

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ISLAND OF GOOD FORTUNE

Published December 2, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Hope you brought your hazmat suit, because this week Pegman takes us to Fukushima, Japan, site of one of the world’s worst nuclear disasters, which occurred in 2011. Believe it or not, you’ll find both streetview and photospheres in this abandoned town.

Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write 150 words inspired by the location. You can capture your own photo from google or use the one provided.

Click on the blue frog below to add your story to this week’s link-up and to read the work of your co-contributors.

I’m never sure from week to week if I’ll participate in What Pegman Saw. However the lure of those extra 50 words is strong. Many thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll. 

Namie Choritsu Ukedo Elementary

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

ISLAND OF GOOD FORTUNE

As a Japanese-American reporter I begged for the assignment to interview Fukushima survivors five years after the tsunami. What could be more fun? Sushi and kimono.

Walking along Kakamura beach with Hiroshi, I turn on my recorder.   

He clutches a stuffed bear. “Last night I had a dream. The ocean swelled and rose to the mountains. I woke in a tidal wave of sweat. It was no dream.”

My breath catches in my throat. “Go on.”

“It was like being in hell. If the waters did not kill you, the great fires would.”  From his pocket Hiroshi pulls a photograph of a smiling woman holding a little boy. He hugs the teddy bear. “My son was only four. My Yumi expected our second child any day.”

I swallow hard.

“The water is beautiful.” His gaze drifts past me. “I suppose it is nonsense to hold a grudge against the sea.”

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