The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Our fellow fictioneer CEAYR asked that I extend his apologies for his lack of participation of late. While he doesn’t mean to be rude, our friend is dealing with physical issues that prevent him from being more involved.
“‘…The taller officer, an imposing presence with dark skin, fascinated Havah. Although she had read about them in Professor Dietrich’s books about Africa and American history, she had never met a Negro face to face.’”
“What year does your book take place?”
“1904.”
“I hate to burst your bubble,” says my fellow writer with smug conviction. “I realize it’s historical fiction but I seriously doubt there would’ve been a black officer back then.”
I whip out my Kansas City history book and point to a photo of uniformed Lafayette Tillman on horseback. “Second one on the KC force. Next question.”
Saturday, April 2, 2016 is a date that will stick in my mind and on my wall for a long time to come. For me this was a long dreamt of milestone—my first Barnes & Noble book signing.
It’s pretty special when your rabbi shows up. Thanks, Rebbe!
Although Please Say Kaddish for Me debuted in May of 2015 and From Silt and Ashes close behind in December, due to extenuating circumstances and a full time job, they were never officially launched.
For four hours old friends and new readers gave congratulatory hugs and asked questions. Friends and family members had already purchased the books but wanted them personally autographed. This author happily complied.
Isn’t ‘author’ a lovely word?
My hubby, Jan, managed to get in a picture. The young lady is our great niece Tarin Clay. How sweet that she made a special trip for the occasion. Sorry this one’s a little fuzzy. Still precious.
There’s nothing more wonderful than family at a book signing. I’m between my cousin, Jeffrey Weiner and his lovely wife Karyn.
Avid reader and good friend, Kim. I’m thrilled she got a copy of each book.
With Denise Mahoney. Isn’t she adorable?
Meeting a new fan. She read Please Say Kaddish for Me with her book club. On to From Silt and Ashes!
With Marie Gail Stratford, someone who has shared tears and laughed at my jokes. Thanks MG!
Theo and Terry…we were coworkers for many years. Now we’re ‘just friends.’
The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Please make an effort to stay within the suggested word count. While 50 to 100 words over the limit might not seem like much to the writer, in the context of reading up a hundred stories, it’s a little inconsiderate. Use your imagination and pare it down. It can be done and you might be surprised at how few words you need to create a scene or tell a story.
The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count.
Due to circumstances beyond my control this past week, including an all day car repair, dental issues and a computer crash, I am posting an excerpt from my working manuscript, As One Must, One Can. While it’s just under a hundred words, it’s not a complete story. In this stage of the book, Havah, who teaches an unheard of girl’s Hebrew class, accompanied by her nephew Lev, is going to check on two of her students who live in McClure Flats which was a Kansas City Slum populated mostly by Russian Jewish immigrants.
Genre: Historical Fiction
(the year is 1908)
Word Count: 97
AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN – EXCERPT
Lev and Havah passed a row of brick hovels with lean-tos serving as porches.
Everywhere she turned she saw unkempt children whose noses leaked slimy trails to their lips.
A woman with pockmarked cheeks and sunken eyes sat beside a shanty, her blouse hanging open so her toddler could suckle from her shriveled breast.
A little girl chased a small animal crying, “Kit-kat! Kit-kat!” in Yiddish.
The creature scurried under Havah’s skirts before disappearing between the cracks of a dilapidated wall. The ground swerved beneath her when she realized it was neither cat nor dog, but a large rat.
The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count.
Do you now spurn me because I refuse to embrace your Christus? Does this make me a heretic? So be it! But never have I denied the eternal soul of man as you so accuse. I wrote only that the mind informs us and is where mortal and immortal are confined.
Thus, I confine myself to Gheto Vechio…”
Blinded by tears, the old monk set Sarra Copia’s letter ablaze in the candle flame. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”
The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count.
Polonius said that brevity is the soul of wit. I’m trying something new for me and it’s ever so brief. Life’s been a bit of a whirlwind lately and my brain is on overload. Much of my writing time and head-space have been given over to my next novel, As One Must, One Can. Thank you for understanding.
Shalom, Rochelle
Genre: Haiku
Word Count: 25
.
.
TABULA RASA
sunlight after rain
casts light on sodden pavement
my dry bones languish
***
solomon said there’s
nothing new under the sun
as one must, one can’t
.
.
Unfortunately there are copyright issues concerning a decent recording. Many thanks to my friend Regina O’Hare who videoed this from her phone. Sorry about the quality.
“Now, where was I? Your education…Frederic Chopin.” Ulrich cleared his throat and poised his hands over the keys. “He was one of the world’s greatest composers. His life was short but his influence great. Nocturne in C-sharp Minor was my Valerica’s favorite. Her life was also short. She said this piece took her to far off places. Close your eyes and see where it takes you.”
From the first resounding chords a flood of emotion flowed through Havah like a river current. In a moment she was both callow child, alive with anticipation, and wizened matron, bone weary and full of years. Her mother’s voice lulled and comforted her with a song about raisins and almonds. She saw her father’s face, half illuminated by candle flame as he poured over volume after volume of Talmud. Arel approached from the shadows, tall and thin. His gray eyes devoured her. His tender lips kissed her.
Frederic Chopin’s Nocturne in C Sharp Minor soothed Havah’s jangled nerves. The ivory keys were smooth and comforting under her fingertips. Although she would never be a pianist of Ulrich’s caliber she played well enough to entertain an audience of one. Closing her eyes, she relished a soft breeze carrying the scents of daffodil and hyacinth through the open window.
Letting the strains of Chopin’s Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor waft over her, Shayndel sat in the rocking chair beside the piano with Tikvah asleep on her lap. While Shayndel did not know many musical pieces by name like her sister-in-law she could always recognize this one. When Havah was sad or in pain this would be the piece she chose to play.
While not a person or an animal, a piece of classical music becomes something of a friend and companion to Havah.Chopin’s Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor comforts her when reality becomes too much to handle.
I fell in love with this piece and Chopin’s music when I saw the movie The Pianist. It’s haunting, ethereal beauty transports this author to other places so it seemed only natural it would do the same for Havah.
Unlike the author, Havah has latent musical talent that Ulrich is only too happy to nurture. While he tries to steer her to something simpler for a beginner, she is determined to learn how to play the nocturne.
I hope you’ll take the time to not only read my excerpts but also to enjoy the music.
The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count.
Many of you will remember this prompt. It’s one of my first as Friday Fictioneers Fairy Blog Mother. This week I feel the need to direct my writing energy to another project so I’m falling back on a re-run. It’s one of my favorite photos and stories from nearly four years ago. Looking back on the link from that prompt I see that quite a few of you wrote stories for it. Thank you for sticking with it. ❤ Feel free to take a break or write another story.
Genre: (hopefully not) Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 100
A WELL-ORDERED LIFE
Prototypical milquetoast, Benjamin Parker wore bow ties and kept to himself.
Three days of no-call, no-show to work passed before anyone missed him enough to call the police.
When we broke into his immaculate apartment we found his pajama-clad body in bed. There were no signs of foul play.
Jars filled with things like batteries, safety pins, wine corks and matchbooks lined cabinets and counter-tops.
“Quite the collector. Wonder if he jarred his tidy whities.” I flung open the closet door and choked. “What the—?”
In single file on the top shelf human heads floated in name-tagged gallon jars.
***
This coming Sunday, March 6, I’ll be interviewed on local TV at 7:50 AM CST. It will be streamed live here. Click the red new button and then “Live Streaming.”
The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count.
Due to schedule, travel and novel writing, my ‘story’ this week is a paragraph from the third novel (in progress) in my trilogy As One Must, One Can, which is due out this year. It’s not a complete story. Thank you for understanding.
Genre: Historical Fiction
(the year is 1907)
Word Count: 98
AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN – EXCERPT
In Kansas City motor cars were rapidly replacing the horse and buggy. Automobiles went faster and did not eat their weight in hay and oats. Even so, Nikolai preferred the clip-clop of horses’ hooves on pavement to the grinding noises and choking exhaust fumes of modern transportation. It did not matter for he could afford neither car nor carriage. If he could, walking, even in winter, would always be his preferred mode of travel for physical stamina. Tucking his head, he pulled his hat down and his coat collar up to shield his ears from the frigid wind.
Sunday, I had the pleasure of being interviewed by David Clarke of Blog Talk Radio. The interview is an hour long so you might want to come back to it. 😉
The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.
Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 