Historical Fiction

All posts in the Historical Fiction category

26 May 2017

Published May 24, 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 © J Hardy Carroll

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Genre: Historical Fiction-Book Excerpt

Word Count: 100

JESUS WEPT

            Broken glass, paper and other debris littered the once cheerful apartment. The prophet Jeremiah’s words swirled through Ulrich’s mind like a hollow wind.

            “A voice was heard in Ramah…

            …Rachel weeping for her children…”

            Dim light from his lantern cast macabre shadows on the spattered walls. He gazed at the children’s battered faces and twisted forms. What could reduce men to such bestial acts?

            His stomach shuddered and emptied itself. He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.  “You bloody bastards! Christ died for you and you use Him as an excuse for your bloodletting! Why? Why? Why?”

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 *Note: The title is John 11:35, the shortest verse in the New Testament and reflects Ulrich Dietrich’s beliefs. Ulrich is a Christian gentleman who is outraged that innocent people would be murdered in the name of his Lord.  

 

19 May 2017

Published May 17, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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THOUGHTS ON WORD COUNT. It can be painful to slaughter darlings and the writer may think, “Impossible. My story won’t have the same impact without those 50 extra words.” Surprise! 99.9% of the time it’s not only possible, but preferable. That’s what this exercise is about. Learning to say more with less. Take a second look before posting. Start with adverbs and passive voice. Instead of “I was running as quickly as I could…” try “I rushed…” THINK ABOUT IT.

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 © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Historical Faction

Word Count: 100

FAMILY OWNED SINCE 1947

            “What’ll it be, George?” Evalyne poised her pencil. “The usual?”  

            With a nod the man at the counter gestured towards the bulge under her apron and grinned at six-year-old Jeff. “That your baby brother?”  

            She tore the order from her pad. “Give this to Daddy, Jeff.”

            Glowering at Evalyne, the stout cook, once slender and charming, snatched it from his son. “Scram, ya little putz!”

            She clenched her teeth as Jeff slunk back into her protective embrace.  

            “It’s gonna be a sister.” Patting her tummy, he looked up at George. “Daddy don’t need another pest in the neck like me.” 

CAST FROM HER FATHER’S HOUSE

Published May 15, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Cirque de Navacelles, France. This week’s location was suggested by JS Brand.

Many thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this unique challenge. 

Feel free to stroll around 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:

This challenge has become a favorite of mine and I couldn’t bear to miss it this week. This weekend has been an incredibly busy one. And as I’m working toward Book Four of my trilogy (coffee table companion book of illustrations and character studies), I hope you’ll forgive my posting an excerpt from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. 

While the photo I chose is in Cirque de Navacelles, my story is not.

Genre: Novel Excerpt

Word Count: 149

CAST FROM HER FATHER’S HOUSE

            Rocks, frozen grass and thorns stabbed the soles of her bare feet. There had been no time for shoes, no time to dress. 

            Who would pray for their souls? Who would remember David, the artist or Mendel, the poet or Mama or Papa?  She forced her heavy mouth to shape the Hebrew prayer—Kaddish—prayer for the dead and prayer for the bereft.

            “‘Magnified and sanctified is your great Name…’”

            Havah Cohen detested its beauty. Her hands, held over her ears, could not blot out the anguished cries of friends and neighbors, fast becoming memories.

            “‘…in the world which you have created…’”

            Thorns grabbed at her nightgown and she fought to ignore the fire in her lungs. “‘…according to Your will.’”

            Run. 

            Brambles ripped into her flesh.

            Run. 

            The muscles of her legs burned. 

            Don’t stop. Run.

            “‘Let His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.’”

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

IT’S NO SECRET

Published May 8, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman visits Yorkshire Dales.

Feel free to stroll around 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:

A busy weekend and a case of writers’ block made me late to the party this week. As always a hearty ‘thank you’ to Karen Rawson and J Hardy Carroll

When I saw that we’re in Yorkshire this week, my mind went to one of my all-time favorite books, ‘The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I searched Google for information about the author who was a progressive woman of her day. Alack and alas, the pieces just wouldn’t come together for a biographical flash. As a child and, even now, I like to daydream sequels. So today, just for grins and giggles, I dashed one off.

The photo I chose is a garden in Yorkshire Dales.

Genre: Daydreamed Conception

Word Count; 150

IT’S NO SECRET

            Colin sniffed a rose. “Springtime in Yorkshire. I miss it.”

            Mary knelt to pull a weed from her uncle’s grave. Standing, she brushed dirt and leaves from her swollen belly. “He loved this garden so. If it’s a boy we’ll name him Archibald. ”

            Dickon kissed her.  “A grand name our little ‘un.”  

            Colin’s eyes welled. “There’s magic in this place.”

            Mary swallowed. “Must you go?”

            Colin squared his broad shoulders. “I’ll stay until the christening, Cousin Mary. My patients depend on me.”

            At that moment, a woman with gleaming curls entered the garden and embraced Mary. “Am I late?”

            “I hope no one minds,” said Mary. “I invited Teresa to dinner.”  

            Colin flushed. “Pleased to meet you—Teresa.”

            “Dr. Craven.” She offered her hand.  “Mary says you have a thriving practice in London.”

            “I—I’m moving back here soon.”

            Dickon’s lips curved upward. “Aye, there’s magic in this place.”

*

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5 May 2017

Published May 3, 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. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

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FOUNT OF LIFE

            “Andrea should know the truth,” said Myron. “May her father’s memory be blessed.”

            “The truth is she’s an American citizen now.” Cerulean eyes brimming, Gabrielle stroked her slumbering daughter’s golden curls. “Forget her father. Forget France.”

            Myron embraced his bride and drank in her fragrance. “Your survival is miracle.”  

            “A ‘miracle’ based on lies—forged papers and a fiancé in the Wermacht. Could’ve fooled Himmler himself.” She sniffed. “I should’ve died with my brunette sisters at Auschwitz.”

            Myron’s breath caught in his throat. “Fiancé?”   

            “The truth is my Albrecht loved me no matter what. I…willingly gave birth to his Lebensborn.”  

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To know more click here!

SHIKAKO

Published April 29, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman visits Chicago, Illinois.

Feel free to stroll around 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:

They say location is everything. Many thanks to Karen Rawson and her highly significant other, J Hardy Carroll for hosting and sharing a new location to challenge us every week.

Chicago River

Some reading might remember this story from Friday Fictioneers two years ago. I took the liberty of revisiting and adding fifty words to it. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

SHIKAKO

“Place Where the Skunk Weed Grows”

             Catherine DuSable walked along the shore of the Eschikagou while her beloved Jean-Baptiste slept. Today a steady stream of customers had come to their trading post to buy and sell. Usually she enjoyed the stories they shared.

             One trapper eyed her. “What you want for that fine squaw, Monsieur DuSable?”

            “My wife is not for sale.”

            She raised her hands to the sky and danced beside the waters, shaking off the trapper’s leering image.   

            “Mama, I can’t sleep.”

            She turned to see Susannah whose tight black curls and dark skin glowed in the moonlight. So like her father. Catherine scooped the child into her arms.

            “When I was little I prayed to Kichi Muhnido, the Great Spirit, for peaceful dreams.”

            “You mean St. Raphael. Papa says…”

            “For him I am Catholic, but in my heart of hearts I will always be Kitihawa, of the Bodéwadmi, keepers of the sacred fire.

Click Here for a bit of Background

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

21 April 2017

Published April 19, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Blue Ceiling FF

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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 © Magaly Guerrero

PHOTO PROMPT © Magaly Guerrero

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

SPLIT WEEK

“Papa, how could you fire Joe?” Myra Cutler flung her dance shoes into her suitcase. “He was an asset to the show.”

“You’re only off by two letters.” Frank, head of the Cutler Comedy Club, embraced his seventeen-year-old daughter. “All that wastrel has on his mind is my talented baby girl. You’ve no future with him.”

 Pulling back, Myra clenched her teeth. “We’re going to be huge Vaudeville stars.”

___

A year later, in 1895, after a show in Piqua, Kansas, weary from performing, Myra gave birth to the third member of their act—Joseph Frank Keaton—better known as Buster.

***

keaton-family

Buster, Myra and Joe Keaton known in Vaudeville as “The Three Keatons”

For those unfamiliar with silent film star Buster Keaton, here’s a taste of his comedic genius. 

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