Historical Fiction

All posts in the Historical Fiction category

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.”

 

12 January 2017

Published January 10, 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. 

Out of consideration for your readers/fellow writers, please keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you and shalom. 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WEB OF THE ABSURD

            “It’s a great role, awesome potential,” said Fred. “Who knows? Could make you a star.”

            Apprehension flooded Adam. “I’m trying to have a serious career.”

            “You call spaghetti westerns and chocolate milk commercials serious? C’mon, kid, whaddya got to lose?”

            “All right, it can’t hurt to read the script.”

            Weeks later, Adam slid tights over his muscular legs. “No one’s going to buy this.”

            Securing the long cape, he flexed his toned pectorals and grinned at his reflection through his cowl’s eye openings. “Not bad.”

            As Adam West emerged from his dressing room, Burt Ward shouted, “Holy guano, it’s Batman!”

*

*

*

Here’s one of those commercials that led to the creation of an icon:

Toodle-loo, Mr. West. 

The Dynamic Duo: Burt Ward as Robin & Adam West as Batman

 

Hey!

MOST HOLY PLACE

Published January 6, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week, Pegman takes us to the cradle of civilization: Tel Saki, Syria.  The country has been at war longer than Pegman has been mapping, so the pictures are confined to photo sphere and often feature shattered lands and cityscapes.

Thanks to J Hardy and his lovely missus Karen for hosting. 😀

I really was going to wait to write a story today, but this photo grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

MOST HOLY PLACE

                                                                                                                           25 October 1973

My Dearest Y’hudit,

This morning, the doctor told me I’ll be home in time for our son’s Brit Milah. Unless he is a she. I would wink but my eyes no longer work.

Why on the holiest of holidays? One minute I’m davening in shul and the next I’m dodging tanks and enemy bullets. No time to break the fast.

I watched our field doctors bind the wounds of Egyptians. “Would Moses do the same?” I asked Baruch Levin, one of our medics.

He replied, “Talmud teaches, ‘He who saves one life… is as if he saves an entire universe.’ On the battlefield no life that can be saved should be lost.”

Later, one of his grateful patients blew Baruch’s righteous head off. It was the last thing I saw…forever.

I’m sorry to burden you, my beloved. I hope you can still love me.

Eem ahavah,

Amitai

 

Glossary

Brit Milah – Rite of Circumcision, performed when a baby boy is eight days old.

Davening – Praying

Shul – Orthodox term for synagogue

Eem ahavah – With Love

 

5 January 2018

Published January 3, 2018 by rochellewisoff


“Reciprocation is the glue that holds this community together.” Neil MacDonald 

Remember : “It’s not what you’re looking at that matters, it’s what you see.” Henry David Thoreau 

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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Although we think of arranged marriage as something that happened in Fiddler on the Roof, many cultures still adhere to the custom today, including Ultra Orthodox Jews. The following is a scene from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. The year is 1902 and takes place in a little village in Eastern Europe. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BEHIND THE VEIL

“Mama?”

White satin gleamed in the lamplight. Straightening to ease the ache wracking her spine, Fruma Ya’el set the gown aside.

“What’s troubling you, child?”

“This wedding’s a mistake.” Gittel knelt and laid her head in Fruma Ya’el’s lap.

Fruma Ya’el’s heart ached for her girls. Any fool could see Havah and Arel had fallen in love. What could she do? Betrothal papers were signed years ago.

 She combed her fingers through Gittel’s auburn hair. “Some things cannot be changed. Arel’s love for you will grow over time, as will yours for him. You believe this don’t you?”

“Do you?”

 

BURIED DEEP

Published December 30, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Talnakh, in Krasonoyarsk Krai, Russia. My story takes place in another part of Russia.

Thanks to Karen and Josh for the challenge and the extra 50 words. 

Now that the holidays are basically behind us, I need to turn my attention to my next book, A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. This week’s location is the perfect inspiration for this edited scene from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. Naturally it’s my hope that these excerpts I’ve posted will whet the reader’s appetite to read my novels and, of course the upcoming coffee table book–designed for those who like to look at the pictures.  😉 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

BURIED DEEP

            “What’s the matter with you?” Sergei glared at Nikolai. “You’ve never told Oxana about your own identical twin brother?”

            Oxana seethed. “No. Why should he tell me anything? I am only his wife.”  

            “I don’t blame him for keeping it a secret.” Sergei took a labored breath. “I’m the one at fault. I used to slap him for even mentioning Bodrik’s name.”

            “He was always so competitive. Had to be the best at everything.” Protracted memories zipped through Nikolai’s mind. The frozen Neva River ran like a ribbon through St. Petersburg. “‘Race you to the bridge,’ Bodrik yells. Of course he’s in the lead. Suddenly the dumb durak stops and sticks out his foot. Our skates tangle.”

            “Nikolai looked like he’d been mauled by a bear. Bodrik escaped with a simple bump on the head.”

            “What happened to him?” asked Oxana.

            Nikolai shivered. “He died in my arms that night.”

 

 

 

 

LIGHT ONE CANDLE

Published December 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

I couldn’t resist. Since my initial story is more of a discussion than a story, I thought I’d take the liberty of posting a second piece. And since it’s Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of lights I’ve edited a snippet from PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME, my debut novel. In the scene, the Abromovich children tell the story of Hanukkah (sort of ) for their gentile guest. 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

LIGHT ONE CANDLE

          Twelve-year-old Zelig, the quintessential scholar, pointed to each Hebrew letter on the dreidel.  “They stand for ‘A great miracle happened there,’ Professor Dietrich.”

          As Zelig’s younger sisters, Ruth and Rukhel, set the table, they fluttered around it chirping like excited pigeons. Ulrich could hardly tell where one left off and the other began. Even their voices were identical.

         “Hanukkah is all about the Macaroons’ victory over their enemies in ancient days…It was a miracle…The oil in the temple menorah burned for eight whole days…That’s why we light the candles for eight nights.”

           Zelig rolled his eyes. “It’s Maccabees not macaroons!”

Click to hear Mayim Bialik shed light on the holiday. 

Ulrich Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Abromovich Children: B. Ruth, Rukhel, Front, left to right: Zelig, Velvil, Tuli
© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

dreidle

This is a dreidle I’ve had in my possession since I was four years old. Cheap plastic, but precious to me. The game of dreidle is one of the staples of Hanukkah. Each letter dictates whether or not the player takes a penny from the pot,tosses one in or takes them all.

WUNDERKIND

Published December 11, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman turns us loose in Versailles. You can find streetview and an abundance of photospheres at this location. Feel free to find something inside or outside and snag a view that inspires you.

Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write 150 words inspired by the prompt. To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:

I’m quite late this week with the busy-ness of the holidays and some art commissions (not complaining) pending. I couldn’t resist the following photo because of where it took me. Below is an edited-to-fit-the-challenge snippet from my third novel, AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. 

Thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting and riding herd on this growing challenge. 

Versaille Palace

Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1908

Word Count: 150

WUNDERKIND

           If Ulrich had harbored any misgivings about whisking four-year-old Rachel away from her parents in Kansas City to take her on tour, she had dispelled them, concert after concert. Never was he prouder of her than this night as she performed for over 2,000 people at the Musikverein. Perhaps if she could see them, she might be frightened, but he had his doubts.           

            After she played “Für Elise” and Mozart’s “Turkish March” without missing a note, Ulrich sat her on a cushion beside him.

            The conductor of the Vienna Philharmonic, baton in hand, bowed. “Next, Herr Dietrich and Fräulein Gitterman will perform a particular favorite of mine, Johann Strauss’ ‘Vienna Waltz Number Four.’”

            Once they finished the duet, the audience burst into applause and shouts of “Brava!”

            Rachel, holding tight to Ulrich’s hand, followed him to center stage where she let go, curtsied and blew a kiss to the audience.

The Musikverein

           

 

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