Friendship

All posts in the Friendship category

11 May 2018

Published May 9, 2018 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 ©Jill Wisoff

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

The story you are about to read is true. No names have been changed to protect the guilty. 

 

FAMILY TIES

            “Wise-off?”

            “No. ‘Wiss-off.’ It’s a short ‘i’.”

            Very few can pronounce it correctly on the first try. We were the only Wisoffs in Kansas City—probably the world. Talk about feeling like the odd one out.          

            “Your great-grandparents who came over from Lithuania with 7 children shortened Wissosky,” said Dad. “There are plenty more little Wisoffs running around back east.”   

            In 1999 thanks to AOL, I met Jill Wisoff who lives in New York City.

            Say what you will about the evils of social media, but thanks to my unique surname, I don’t need DNA to find relatives on Facebook.

 

Click to hear and see a recent reading I did. Sight, sound and four flash fictions. 

Cloudburst 2018

20 April 2018

Published April 18, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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*Note: This marks the third week we will be on our road trip from Kansas City to Los Angeles and back again. This has been posted ahead. Thank you for understanding my slowness to read and comment. 

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 © Douglas M. MacIlroy

 

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Please be considerate of the over 70 weekly participants and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you. 

The following story is a rerun from November 2014, so many of you will remember it, some of you won’t. However I did use a different prompt at the time. To visit Click Here 

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

IN AN EARLIER LIFE

            “Too much studying will ruin you. Carpe Diem. Let’s play catch.” Ted grabbed Douglas’ notebook and pressed a pie tin into his hand.    

            “Catch? With this?”

            “From the Frisbie Pie Company. It’s all the rage on campus.”          

            For the next hour Douglas forgot about Yale, final examinations and commencement. Tension from late nights hunched over text books lifted off his shoulders and a sense of euphoria filled him as he and Ted flung the whirling dish back and forth.   

            “This is bound to become a national sport,” cried Douglas.

            “Tin Tossing Tournaments?”

            “Why not?”

            “School’s finally driven you mad, MacIlroy.” 

With Doug, in Kansas for a disc golf tournament in 2016. I think I was standing on a step.

 

30 March 2018

Published March 28, 2018 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 © Fatima Fakier Deria

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

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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

frozen-custard-buffalo--niagara-falls

I personally favored chocolate.

23 March 2018

Published March 21, 2018 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 © Björn Rudberg

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As always, please be considerate to your fellow fictioneers and keep your story to 100 words or less. This does not include the title. Thank you and Shalom. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

TURN THE PAGE

“Happy birthday!” Grandma sang out in her Kentucky drawl. “G’wan, child, open your present.”

            Heart thumping, Karen tore open the colorfully wrapped package. “I hope it’s my Cabbage Patch doll! Oh boy, it’s—” She fought tears.—“Tom Sawyer by M-mark Twain. Thank you.”

            Grandma’s eyes flashed. “Disappointed, aintcha?”

             “No, I…”Karen braced herself for a ‘when I was your age’ story.  

            “Betcha never heared o’ the Pack Horse Librarians.”

            “Huh-uh.”

            “Not many have, I reckon. In the Great Depression, them valiant ladies braved hell and high water on horseback just so’s us hill kids could have something to read.”     

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     Click Here to know more

 

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

Published March 4, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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.

 

*********

 

Troop 499-Can you find me?

 

16 February 2018

Published February 14, 2018 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 fellow writers/readers and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you and Shalom. 

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Once more I’m sharing an excerpt from an excerpt from both FROM SILT AND ASHES  and A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. As I write, I’m making progress with the latter. Thank you for your patience and kind feedback. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

GOODBYE, HELLO 

Ulrich held Havah’s letter to his nose and breathed in the aroma of rose water. He pictured her at her table, black waves cascading over her shoulders.

His mind harked back to Rotterdam Harbor where they bid each other farewell. The taste of their stolen kiss lingered on his lips, even as Arel waited on the dock.

“How are things in America?” asked his housemate Nikolai.

Ulrich tossed him the letter. “Read for yourself.”

“They’re happy despite the cold winter. Good for them.”

“Yes indeed.” Biting his lip, Ulrich crumpled the envelope. “I’m delirous for them.” 

“Ulrich, let her go.”

 

             

 

 

19 January 2018

Published January 17, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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“The key to building an audience is reading and commenting others’ works.” Russell Gayer

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

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As the new year has begun, I need to concentrate on my coffee table book. (I hope you’re not tired of hearing about it.) 

There are always those scenes on the cutting room floor. Here’s one that didn’t make it into AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. It’s edited from over 200 words as well. The lesson to be learned here is ‘never throw anything away.’ 😉 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A TIME TO LAUGH

            Guilt niggled Havah for watching Vaudeville at Electric Park on the Sabbath. But didn’t the Book say laughter is good for the soul?

            Jugglers wearing gaudy costumes spun plates on sticks. Acrobats in skintight outfits flipped in midair.

            Havah marveled when the magician made a pair of turtledoves appear out of nowhere.

            “It’s called sleight of hand.” Itzak shrugged. “He probably had them stuffed in his trousers.”  

            “Who cares? He’s amazing!”

            Next the trickster’s dog pointed to letters on cards with his paw to spell out his name—P-I-L-U.

            In a stage whisper, Itzak said, “Glad his name isn’t Constantinople.”

 

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