15 February 2019

Published February 13, 2019 by rochellewisoff

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

MOTIF

South City View—we kids replaced ‘View’ with ‘Zoo.’ I suspect our overworked teachers used the same handle.

A bright spot for me was Mr. O’Neill, a teddy bear of a man. He taught art to all the elementary grades in the Center school district, going from school to school and room to room. His visits served as once-a-week holidays from routine classroom tedium.

In junior high, Mrs. Spears filled his vacancy in my life, followed by Mr. Creamer in high school. I often wonder what became of Robert H. O’Neill who added color, form and composition to my childhood.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES

Published February 10, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Karen has invited us to take a cruise to the British Virgin Islands for WHAT PEGMAN SAW. As I’ve been in quite the reflective mood lately, I’m sharing a memory. Here in the frozen Midwest the skies have been dreary and the roads icy. A trip to a tropical island is just the ticket for this sleety Sunday morning.

St. Thomas © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 150

St. Thomas © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES

Lush hills and tree-studded mountains surround St. Thomas like an imperial crown. Is it any wonder my son and his bride fell in love with the area? They exchanged their vows there and invited their parents to share the honeymoon.

Later, my son told me they had planned to have the ceremony on a mountaintop so his mother wouldn’t be tempted to swim away. Who would do something so utterly rude on such a grand occasion?

However nothing compared to the thrill of snorkeling along the underwater nature trail in Magen’s Bay in St. Thomas or exploring Water Lemon Cay in St. John.

I feasted my gaze on purple fan coral, yellow tangs and crimson starfish. As water takes on the shape of its container, I took on the shape of the water in an indescribable oneness. Unfettered by the mundane, I embraced the sea and it welcomed me home.

“When we’re in the water, we’re not of this world.”
……Gertrude Ederle

WOOLGATHERING

Published February 2, 2019 by rochellewisoff

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

Word Prompt

Thank you, Sammi Cox for this word prompt challenge that keeps sending me down Memory Lane. 😀

My 4^th grade teacher, Mrs. Smith, scrawled a big question mark on my report card next to “pays attention.”

“Wool-gathering in class.”

Once upon a time…

I’d retreat to my happy place

and tell myself stories.

*****

Mrs. Smith was one of my favorite teachers. Although I’m sure I frustrated her with my messy desk and my daydreaming, she never belittled me. I remember her with great fondness. ❤

FOUNDATIONS

Published January 5, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Last week I joined Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt Challenge on whim. After all it was only 17 words. This week it’s 91. The word is ‘Foundations’ which stirred a memory for me.

For the rules and to join the fun CLICK HERE

***

FOUNDATIONS

It was the required course at the Kansas City Art Institute. In 1971, three instructors, Al, Steve and Jim presented freshmen with new ways to think about art.

Foundations.

I found Jim austere and intimidating.

Steve, who had an easy smile, bummed cigarettes from those who smoked.

In one memorable class, Al stripped before his stunned pupils. Straightaway he redressed. To this day I’m not sure what I was supposed to learn from the experience.

In retrospect, I don’t believe I had a clue. I’m not sure I have one now.

17 August 2018

Published August 15, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 © Yvette Prior

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Histrionic Faction

Word Count: 100

UNLUCKY STRIKE

Remember how commercials bombarded us with catchy slogans?

“I’d rather fight than switch.”

“Winston tastes good, like a cigarette should.”

Serling delivered his famous Twilight Zone intros while wisps of smoke framed his face.

During his renowned interviews in the 1950’s, Mike Wallace brandished his ubiquitous coffin nail.

I coughed. “I wish you’d quit smoking those nasty things, Mommy.”

Taking a long drag, she covered a burn hole in her skirt with a daisy applique. “I need them to calm my nerves.”

She finally quit in 1980—just a year before lung cancer claimed her.

“Were they worth it, Mom?”

These little goodies came on the back Raleigh cigarettes. You could save them and buy all kinds of things, from jewelry to appliances. We used to joke that Mom would use hers for an iron lung. Somehow that’s not as funny as it used to be.

30 March 2018

Published March 28, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Fatima Fakier Deria

My weekly admonition to over 70 participants. Please keep your stories to 100 words or less. Thank you for your consideration.

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

SUITABLE FOR FRAMING

I spent my twelfth summer with my aunt and uncle in Monticello, NY.

Uncle Harold won my heart, not just because he showered me with attention and frozen custard, but because he was an artist. While he never achieved national acclaim, he did win a few awards in local shows for his impressionistic works.

I cherish memories of painting with him on the patio.

“A masterpiece,” he proclaimed my robin watercolor.

Today, as I put the finishing touches on my latest opus, I almost hear Uncle Harold say, “Good job! Let’s go for a frozen custard. Don’t tell Aunt Lu.”

***

Nothing fictitious about this story. 😉

This painting holds a special place in my office/studio.

Never heard of frozen custard? CLICK HERE

I personally favored chocolate.

15 December 2017

Published December 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Sandra Crook

get the InLinkz code

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?

BE IT EVER SO DYSFUNCTIONAL…

Published May 22, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman walks through Portal, ND

Bizzy bizzy weekend so I’m late for the party, but I just can’t seem to avoid it. I’m not sure if it’s the lure of choosing my own prompt, since I choose the prompts for Friday Fictioneers. 😉 Nonetheless, it’s different and if the muse tells me a story I havta write it. Write? Of course, write!

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Many thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson for hosting.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

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

The photo is a house in North Portal, Saskatchewan. My choice from Pegman’s smorgasbord.

Genre: Historical Faction

Word Count: 150

BE IT EVER SO DYSFUNCTIONAL, THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE EMOH

Elise picked up a magazine from the end table and flipped through the pages, stopping at an article about Portal, North Dakota. “Lovely place. Looks safe.”

“Let’s start where we left off.” Audrey peered over her reading glasses. “Tell me more about your childhood.”

“Idyllic. I drank from garden hoses and bought spoon malts from the ice cream man.”

Audrey’s mouth twisted to one side. “Last week you told me your uncle forced you to—”

“Did I ever tell you about my dog Ami? Odd little Beagle. Hated to be petted.”

“Evasive.” Audrey wrote on her clipboard. “Tell me more about the fights at the diner.”

Memories flooded Elise. Four years old again, she huddled under a table.

Dad lunged at Mom. “You selfish bitch!”

Mom hurled a napkin holder, clipping his forehead. “I hate you!”

Elise bit her trembling lip. “Aside from that, I had a perfect childhood.”

14 April 2017

Published April 12, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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.

get the InLinkz code

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

Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

HAND-TOSSED

Monticello, a town in Upstate New York, is where we spent the summer of 1965, the last summer of my childhood, with my aunt and uncle. Having never traveled far from Kansas City, this was the adventure of my eleven-going-on-twelve-year-old lifetime.

Unlike KC, restaurants like the pizzeria where I had my first ever, true pizza, stayed open all night.

My brother handed me the red pepper. “Try this.”

Aunt Lu scowled. “Go easy, Rochelle.”

Did I listen?

Although the gooey cheese and sauce melted in my mouth, the pepper burned all the way down—and all the way back up.

SCHUHLEDER

Published March 4, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman walks through a St. Louis neighborhood.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

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

Since I chose the destination this week, I had no choice but to write a story. Right? Of course, right!

Even at 150 words…50 over my normal flashes, I found myself wishing for more. 😉 Below is my choice of prompt. It brought back some wonderful childhood memories.

Genre: Mostly Memoir-Some Fiction

Word Count: 150

SCHUHLEDER

Compared to our ranch-style house in Kansas City, George Weinberg’s two-story in St. Louis seemed a veritable palace. I looked forward to sojourns with our cousins in the early 1960’s.

Although George’s wife Carla, a German refugee, was generous and an impeccable housekeeper, her cooking left something to be desired—taste. We didn’t dare complain. Carla had survived unbelievable hardship and she meant well, but how can a person ruin hamburgers?

The summer I turned fifteen, Mom had dental surgery. Granting her request to be left alone, Dad took me to our favorite getaway for an overnight.

It was dark when he woke me. “There’s a great diner around the corner.”

Alas, Carla stood at the foot of the stairs, platter in hand. “Guten morgen!”

“Pancakes?” Dad’s stomach let out an audible whimper. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Nonsense. I should let my guests leave hungry?”

What’s the German word for ‘cowhide?’