12 December 2025

Published December 10, 2025 by rochellewisoff

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

In this week’s prompt we are in an alleyway between two stone walls. Lights are strung across the arched entry. There are picnic tables and a bench.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

HANUKKAH IN WESTERBROOK

“Aviva,” said Bubbie, “what are the letters on the dreidel?”

“Noon, Gimmel, Hey, Shin,” I replied. (נ,ג,ה,ש)

“What do they stand for?”

“Nes Gadol Hayah Sham. A great miracle happened there.”

“What miracle?”

“When there was only enough oil to keep the ancient Temple Menorah lit for one day and it burned for eight.”

Bubbie brushed a tear from her withered cheek. I knew where her mind had gone.

“We were young and brave.” She shrugged. “Or maybe just foolish. Leo lit the candles on the menorah. The light gave us hope in a very dark place. A great miracle indeed.”

*Hebrew letters read from right to left.

Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate. © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

21 November 2025

Published November 19, 2025 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: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

JULY 10, 1945

Teresa Fletcher breathed in the aroma of apple pie. “Do you think they’ll like my fried chicken?”

“Considering the slop they’ve probably had to eat; your cooking will seem like fine dining.” Bob grinned.

She beamed at her new husband with pride. For three years he’d taken care of Al and Mary’s farm ignoring slurs, threats, and even attacks from the townspeople.

When the Tsukamotos entered, Teresa opened her arms wide and cried, “Welcome home!”

“Our house looks better than when we left!” Mary hugged the newlyweds. “Why’d you do this for us?”

Bob shrugged. “It was the right thing.”

Mary and daughter Marielle Tsukamoto

It’s a lot to read but to know more CLICK HERE

14 November 2025

Published November 12, 2025 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

In the photo we see the edge of a swimming pool at sunset. There’s a potted plant on a partial wall to the left. The sky is ablaze over trees and mountains in the distance.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

EYES OF THE HEART

In her eighteenth summer, Alyana’s grandfather informed her he was giving her to Kai.

She stomped her feet. “No, Sicheii, he’s the ugliest man in our Diné. I can’t even look at him.”

Alyana wept bitterly on their marriage night and refused to share her bed with Kai.

He shrugged and flashed a lopsided smile. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

She cried out. “Never!”

Two summers later, Alyana gave thanks at the Navajo celebration of her baby’s first laugh.

“This child brings joy!” Sicheii proclaimed

Resting her head on Kai’s shoulder, Alyana whispered, “And he is beautiful like his father.”

7 November 2025

Published November 5, 2025 by rochellewisoff

(We still have a frog, but he’s not necessarily blue. 😉 )

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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 ©Yvette Prior

The photo is of a window with an open Venetian blind. Through it we see the front of a yellow house with white trim. Beside the windw is the edge of a Christmas tree with lights.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

LEGALLY BLACK

Gazing out the window, she pondered the studio executive’s suggestion. “Fredi, you could easily pass for French and become a Hollywood star.”

“What happens if I’m found out?”

Despite her green eyes and pale skin, Fredi Washington remained true to her heritage. Was it her fault ignorant white audiences swallowed the notion of black inferiority hook, line and stinker?

Black actors should not have to stoop to stereotypical portrayals of shuffling servants. Clenching her teeth, Fredi folded her arms.

Turn her back? Pass?

“No. I’m a mighty proud gal. Why should I have to pass for anything but an artist?”

To know more CLICK

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31 October 2025

Published October 29, 2025 by rochellewisoff

RIP Trent McDonald, former Friday Fictioneer.
Click Link above to read his Obituary

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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

Against a backdrop of trees or bushes is a row of potted plants, plastic buckets and discarded pans. To the far left is a red easel with a picture on it. The easel is falling over backward.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

VIEWPOINT

“Look at me!” Jarvis flexed his muscles in front of the mirror. “Strong and healthy like the President.”

Jarvis had it all—athletic and intellectual prowess—while Norman struggled with basic reading and Math. Algebra with its x’s and y’s eluded him.

Watching his older brother, Norman sighed. He’d heard the stories of President Teddy Roosevelt exercising his way to robust health after being a sickly child.

He glared at his own gangly reflection. “I’ll never be an athlete.”

Picking up one of Norman’s sketches, Jarvis shook his head. “And I’ll never be the artist you are, Mr. Norman Rockwell.”

This is an artist…illustrator, whatever you deam the correct title…I’ve always looked up to. He was amazing!

3 October 2025

Published October 1, 2025 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

It is sunrise or sunset. To the right is a building that looks like it has a tetris puzzle rising from it. The sun is peeking through an archway.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

ALL VOWS

Orange, golden and pink hues emblazoning the sky almost made Judith forget where she was. Her hollow stomach growled.

“Tonight, we begin our fast,” she said, “and recite the Kol Nidre.”

“Fast?” Rachel scowled. “Are you meshuga?”

Later in the darkened barracks, Judith lit a candle, opened a contraband prayer book and whispered, “Repeat after me.”

Eight-hundred emaciated women gathered around her. Without words their cries rose in unison as a prayer.

Years later, as her cantor sang a beautiful rendition of the prayer, memories of Auschwitz flooded Judith. She had experienced Light in the darkness. She would never forget.

*The above story is based on an actual survivor’s account.

The following is a little long but one of the most beautiful renditions of the Kol Nidre which is sung on Erev Yom Kippur, the evening of Yom Kippur. On the Jewish calendar the day begins at sunset.

26 September 2025

Published September 24, 2025 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

Three guitars, two electric and one acoustic sit on their stands next to a window with vertical blinds. The electric on the left and he acoustic in the middle have Yellow rags attached for polishing. To the far right there’s a wooden stand that holds a record player/radio.

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Genre: Historical Fiction (kind of)
Word Count: 100

You could call this a sequel to my story about the origin of Martin guitars. This one concerns one very special Martin and his owner.

I’LL ALWAYS PICK YOU, TRIGGER

“I ain’t pickin’ no cotton-pickin’ cotton,” thirteen-year-old Willie told his grandpa.

“How you plan to earn a livin’ boy?”

“Play my guitar and sing. That’s how.”

With determination, grit and a unique voice, Willie made it from the honkytonks of Texas to the Grand Ole Opry.

His love affair began in 1969. Not with a woman, but with a Martin N-20 classical guitar he named Trigger. Every cowboy needs a trusty steed.

Trigger’s been autographed by over a hundred celebrities. Battered and bruised, a hole worn in its body, Trigger still accompanies Willie Nelson as they hit the road again.

And if you have another twelve minutes to spare CLICK for more of Willie Nelson and Trigger’s story.

19 September 2025

Published September 17, 2025 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.

Two padded chairs with cushions are in the foreground, a coffee table in front of them. They face a window that is arched at the top. Outside we see a well trimmed hedge and a wet street.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

PETTICOAT RULE

Sitting back against his chair’s cushions, Matthew puffed his cigar. “Women have no place in politics.”

Arthur chuckled. “What if someone were to nominate one for mayor in the upcoming elections?”

“Preposterous! Nonetheless, a magnificent prank. She’ll get twenty votes from her lady friends, and we’ll be done with such ridiculous notions.”

****

Dora Salter laughed as she hung a damp diaper on the clothesline. “Me? Nominated for mayor? Of course I’ll accept.”

April 4, 1887, Susanna Madora Salter was elected mayor of Argonia, Kansas, the first female mayor in the United States proving that she who laughs last, laughs best.

MORE INFO

*Thanks to Sandra Crook for the phto and the tip. 😉

12 September 2025

Published September 10, 2025 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.

Front and center in the photo prompt is a sculture electric guitars. In the background is a white curtain. There are scroll patterns on the floor.

CLICK to add your own story.

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEPS

“Papa, look! The American flag!” Eight-year-old Fredrick pointed.

Fredrick Senior, the sole survivor of a family of seven, gazed at the stars and stripes from the ship’s deck., Germany fast becoming a memory. “Ja, mein sohn. Das ist Amerika.

Beside him, Lucia smiled. “Papa will make beautiful music in this new land.”

In 1833, Christian Fredrick Martin opened his first shop on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

Six generations later, musicians from Johnny Cash to Elvis Presley to Eric Clapton have made Martin acoustic guitars sing.

One could say that C.F. Martin did indeed make beautiful music in America.

Wide view of the Christian Frederick Martin Marker

To learn more of the history of this company CLICK.

I’ve no idea if any of these guys played a Martin in the video. I just like this video. Enjoy. 😉

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For the month of September I’m participating in the American Cancer Society 5 mile swim challenge to benefit cancer research. Who among us have not been touched by this beast? My mother lost her battle to lung cancer in 1981. And my list goes on. CLICK to visit my page.

29 August 2025

Published August 27, 2025 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.

This week’s prompt has part of an empty wine glass in the right foreground. You can see a candle lighter through the glass. Toward the back is a candleholder with melted candles. There is a cork on the table.

CLICK TO HOP ABOARD

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count:100

A NICE JEWISH GIRL FROM CINCINNATI

Papa recited the prayer over the wine. As he recounted the ancient story, ten-year-old Theodosia Goodman envisioned herself in a sweeping drama set in Egypt.

For his part in the Passover seder, her brother Marque asked the question, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”

She interjected, “Someday I’m going to be an actress.”

“Of course you are,” Papa patted her head. “Tonight, we remember when our ancestors were slaves in Egypt.“

”A quarter of a century later in 1918, mesmerized by her onscreen performance, millions of moviegoers applauded Theodosia, now Theda Bara in the blockbuster Cleopatra.

CLICK to know more about her.