26 June 2026

Published June 24, 2026 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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The photo was taken from the passenger’s seat driving through New Mexico. There are mountains in the background as the road curves. A lot of sand and sage. Some green over to the right behind the guardrail.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
(Word count does not count the title, in case you wondered.;) )

“HELLO THERE, WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.”

“I was just a sprout in 1950—three years old—when Ralph Edwards challenged any American town to change its name to Truth or Consequences after the game show.” Patsy’s eyes shone.

“Of course it was a publicity stunt. But our town council went for it, and it put us on the map. Mr. Edwards was the nicest man. Why, he came to town every year for our fiesta til he was in his 90’s.”

“He sure did know the power of the gimmick.” Patsy shook her head. “Kids today with their smart phones and social media will never understand.”

When I saw that sign I had to research the town. 😀

A LITTLE MORE INFO

And if you can spare the time, here’s what Truth or Consequences, both the show and the town looked like in 1950…

19 June 2026

Published June 17, 2026 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 © C. E. Ayr

Today’s photo features a sky with some interesting clouds. The lower part of the photo is fairly dark. To the right we see buildings that appear to be apartment complexes beside a road. There’s a line of cars parked on the right side. To the left there are trees and a wall. There are mountains in the background.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

HOMESICK

“You and your children will have a chance for a better life in San Fancisco,” said the blue-eyed Indian agent. “All you have here on the reservation is filth and poverty.”

Filth? Eleven-year-old Wilma saw only broad skies and beauty.

Stepping off the train in California, screeching city sounds assaulted her. She clung to Edoda. “Please, take us home.”

Twenty years later Wilma Pearl Mankiller returned to Oklahoma with her two daughters. Peace and Cherokee pride filled her. A pride that would fan the flames of her determination to help her people as the first female chief of her tribe.

*Edoda is Cherokee for Father

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A mere hundred word piece doesn’t do this woman justice. If you have an hour to commit to, CLICK for the documentary.

22 May 2026

Published May 20, 2026 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.

SPEAKING OF PHOTOS!!! Have you photos in your files that you think might make a good prompt? Please send them to me at runtshell@gmail.com. I’m always on the lookout. And sometimes I just…um…er…borrow them from my Facebook friends. 😉 Thank you.

AND FURTHER MORE It has been pointed out to me that this photo is a rerun. https://rochellewisoff.com/2023/06/07/9-june-2023/ So…if you have a story you’d like to repeat from this photo, feel free to do so. 😉 Pobody’s Nerfect. Thank you for your patience. As you can see, I need some new photos. Please and thank you. Shalom, Rochelle. And thank you, Nancy for your vigilance.

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

A whimsical prompt this week showing a baby’s colorful walker on the left next to a child’s battery powered truck on the right. They are “parked” in front of a dual smoker. Have fun with this one!

CLICK on the FROG to join the fun!

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

NINE MILES PER HOUR

“She was a thing of beauty,” recalled Mrs. Anne Bush in a 1952 interview. “Sleek black dignity on pneumatic bicycle tires. I loved being my father’s chauffeur to his house calls.

“You should have seen the looks on the examiner’s faces when they issued my beautiful Steam Engineer’s License, Locomobile Class on March 22, 1900.”

Although she was the first woman with a driver’s license, Anne Rainsford French Bush did little to promote women’s rights. She stopped driving in 1903 when she married Mr. Bush.

“Women shouldn’t get soiled by machinery,” he’d say.

She’d quietly nod and say, “Yes, Walter.”

It should read, “first woman IN AMERICA with a driver’s license.” I ran out of words. 😉

To know more of the story CLICK

15 May 2026

Published May 13, 2026 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 © Fleur Lind

This week’s photo shows a brick enclosure with an opening in the wall that looks like a large keyhole leading to another brick enclosure. Streaks of light seem to be coming through the perhaps grass ceiling. There are large stones on the ground and a bird bath in the right corner. It also looks like there are other little treasures on the ground.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

THE HOLE STORY

Eleven-year-old Murray breathed in the aroma of his father’s wares in the Lenders’ Connecticut bakery as he strung them on a length of twine. Tomorrow morning, Sunday, customers would line up to buy the roll with the hole for breakfast. A little pleasure to start the week and forget the horror in his parents’ native Poland.

“Pop, your bagels are the best.”

Harry pinched Murray’s cheek. “One day all this will be yours.”

In 1963 Murray and his brothers, Marvin and Sam introduced Lender’s frozen bagels to the supermarkets. The bagelization of America had begun. Please pass the cream cheese.

A little more BACKGROUND

ENJOY!

10 April 2026

Published April 8, 2026 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

The photo is a seascape. On the beach some seagulls are resting. A sailboat with a brightly colored sail is on the water. The sky is overcast.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Shadow monsters chased Franz. Twisted trees and thorny brambles caught his clothes. He snapped open his eyes.

The wind howled outside, sounding like shouts of tyrants and wails of children.

“Mother! Father! Help!” He cried out. “A drink please! I’m so thirsty.”

Father loomed over him.

Instead of water or the comforting words the child longed for, Father carried him to the balcony. “Never disturb my sleep again, you little insect.” The door locked behind him.

Frigid wind whipped through the boy’s thin nightgown. For the rest of his all-too-brief life, Franz Kafka despaired of ever winning his father’s love.

“A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”
― Franz Kafka

If you have ten minutes to spare CLICK to know more about him.

27 March 2026

Published March 25, 2026 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

The photo looks to be a lattice or wooden fence covered with spider webs and vines. From the way the photo is framed it almost appears to be a window. Through the openings we see green grass, a tree, and the sky. The webs are so thick they look like they’re made from yarn of thick thread.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

A CANTERBURY TALE

A rock shattered the window. Heart thumping, Prudence picked it up and placed it on the mantel like a trophy. “I’ll not back down.”

She read her advertisement in the April 1833 edition of “The Liberator.”

“…the first Monday of April next, her school will be opened for the reception of young Ladies and Little Misses of Color…”

She recalled the angry white townsmen who had recently banged on her door spewing their heated displeasure.

“Such a boarding school will lead to intermarriage,” they claimed.

Prudence Crandall stiffened her back, glared at them, and said, “Moses had a black wife.”

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It doesn’t exactly go with the story, but it kept playing in my head, and just seems to fit. 🙂

13 March 2026

Published March 11, 2026 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 © Lisa Fox

This week’s photo has us inside what appears to be an art gallery with blue walls. Hanging from a square light fixture are red and golden ornaments. There are canvasses on the blue wall. One painting is of a floral arrangement. To the left there’s another section with red wall.

Click the artistic frog to join. (Thanks, Keith)

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100 (Not counting the lengthy title 😉 )

“MY ILLUSTRIOUS LORDSHIP, I’LL SHOW YOU WHAT A WOMAN CAN DO”

With pigment-stained hands, her revered mentor seized her breast. “You have a gift, child.”

Seventeen-year-old Artemisia clawed his cheek and writhed to escape his grasp.

His relentless laughter echoed in her ears as he thrust himself into her. Despite her anguished cries, no one rescued her.

***

The gallery guide points out the drama in Artemisia Gentileschi’s vibrant paintings depicting strong women. In her second rendering of “Judith Beheading Holofernes” the red-hot intensity on the heroine’s face is palpable.

Did Artemisia pay back her assailant on canvas?

Agostino Tassi may have stolen the flower of her youth, but not her gift.

The title is a quote from the artist. Apropo, dontcha think? 😉

*Vindication on Canvas*

CLICK to know more.

6 March 2026

Published March 4, 2026 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.

The photo shows a cafe behind glass which appears to be on the ground floor of a large building. . There are tables, chairs, and people in the cafe. Skyscrapers are reflected in the glass.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

AMERICAN PIE

Exhausted after a day of household duties, Amelia gathered her receipts. Quill in hand, she squinted at the parchment in the candlelight. “This new world needs its own receipt book. I shall entitle mine ‘American Cookery.’”

She wrote and whispered, “2 pounds citron, currants, and raisins…”

***

“Do you suppose this café serves independence cake?” Elise thumbed through her newly acquired slice of history.

Brandy cast a puzzled glance at the book. “What’s that?”

“First American cookbook. Published by a woman named Amelia Simmons in 1796. I found this facsimile on Amazon.”

“Why have I never heard of her?”

“Good question.”

Little is known about Amelia Simmons.

20 February 2026

Published February 18, 2026 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.

The photo shows a little cafe from the outside. In front of one of the windows is a statue of a chef. There are three narrow picnic tables that look like they’re built into the side of the building. The sign above the roof reads, “Shelly’s Cafe and has the logo for Route 66. Along the roof is red, white and blue bunting, probably for the 4th of July.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

BARBECUE KING

“Ain’t nothin’ better than this, son.” Mr. Perry turned a slab of ribs. “Hickory wood’s the secret.”

Seven-year-old Henry breathed in the smokey aroma.

At fifteen Henry left Tennessee to work on the steamboats traveling the Mississippi River. After hours bent over flames and smoke, he’d stand on the deck, dreaming of the future.

“Daddy was right,” he said years later as patrons lined up between 18^th Street and Vine to enjoy hot smoked meat wrapped in newsprint for twenty-five cents.

Barbecue’s up to date in Kansas City. I owe Henry Perry a debt of gratitude.

Please pass the sauce.

I can’t deny it. I’m a Kansas City girl and BBQ is in my top ten favorite foods. Of course there are the ongoing debates as to which establishment does it best. I do have my favorites. 😉

A few years ago I was told by a pitmaster in Alabama who learned from a KC pitmaster, “If there ain’t no smoke, it’s a joke. If there ain’t no wood, it ain’t no good.” (Perhaps it came down from Henry Perry.)

CLICK HERE IF YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE

13 February 2026

Published February 11, 2026 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 photo is of a long sidewalk. One woman is walking along it. There’s a wall to right with a wrought iron fence and greenery peaking through. To the other side of the sidewalk is a row of trees and a street beside it.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

DIGNITY OVER FEAR

“What if someone had found out?” Sarah held her daughter tightly in her arms. “What were you thinking?”

Rabbi Aharon Neuwirth scowled. “Obviously our child wasn’t thinking at all.”

As she pulled away, Yocheved’s blue eyes spilled over. She smiled and pushed back a lock of blonde hair. “I wanted to see the opening ceremony. All those athletes from all over the world. Besides, they thought I was just another Arian girl. But…”

“But what?” asked the rabbi.

“They gave me flowers to present to—him. I-I couldn’t. Oh, Mama. Papa. I’ve looked into the eyes of der Teufel himself.”