11 September 2020

Published September 9, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Before continuing I have to share my happy news. My novel “Last Dance with Annie” is now under contract with literary agent Diane Nine! www.ninespeakers.com

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

COUP D’ETAT 1898

Easter and me’s both six years old. Her daddy owns a shoe shop in Wilmington. He made my Sunday shoes. He’s really nice.

Easter’s funny and she draws real good. Her skin is pretty. It’s as brown as chocolate so she don’t get sunburns like me.

Day before yesterday, Easter’s daddy went to vote in the ‘lection. Someone said white men in red shirts shot him in the street. Easter cried and cried. I cried, too.

Easter, her mama and lotsa other black folks moved away sudden like. I don’t understand why people are so mean. I miss my friend.

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4 September 2020

Published September 2, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE WOMAN WITH THE TORCH

March 1887

Dear Father,

The sun has long set on Glasgow. My eyes are weary from study and my heart is heavy with longing for you and my sisters.

My mind swirls with new knowledge of the human body. How fearfully and wonderfully made are we. My cup overflows.

Precious Father. Had it not been for your encouragement, becoming a physician would be an impossibility for a wee lass in this man’s world. As God is my witness, it shall not always be so. I promise to do my best to make you proud.

Your loving daughter,

Elsie Maude Inglis

With her many accomplishments, it was difficult to squeeze the magnitude of her influence into 100 words. So I chose a small but important piece of her life. To quote Elsie Inglis

“If I have been able to do anything—whatever I am, whatever I have done—
I owe it all to my Father.”

Dr. Elsie Inglis

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28 August 2020

Published August 26, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

LOST IN THE BRONX

“Oy the pain.” Jonathan Charasuchin would moan when his mother gave boarders his room, relegating him to sleep on dining room chairs.

“Quit your kvetching,” his mother would say. “We need the money.”

His sympathetic father introduced him to opera on the radio and took him to Yiddish theater productions.

The boy fell in love with the stage and dreamed of someday becoming an actor. Diligently he worked on losing his thick Bronx accent, imitating British film stars.

Forty years later, Jonathan Harris delighted Lost in Space fans with quips like “You bobble-headed booby” and “Oh the pain. The pain.”

***

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14 August 2020

Published August 12, 2020 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 -Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Welcome to another week of SUMMER RERUNS. This week the story and prompt are from 14 November 2014. If you were with us that week, feel free to take a break and post your own rerun. 😀

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FIRST DRAFT

“Can’t you imagine little Harry trying to climb the fig trees?” Ida’s eyes glittered. “He would’ve been three this year.”

“I miss him, too,” Harvey whispered.

Although his heart ached with loss, Harvey still counted his blessings. What could such a vibrant woman possibly see in him, a wheelchair bound invalid thirty years her senior?

“Maybe we’ll have another son. For now we have one hundred twenty acres of prime, undeveloped California land to subdivide.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with a kiss. “What shall we call our little town? Harryville?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s call it Hollywood.”

.

Daeida Hartell Wilcox Beveridge “The Mother of Hollywood”

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Harvey Henderson Wilcox

8 August 2020

Published August 5, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

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Today I’m on my way to North Carolina with a supply of masks to visit my one and only brother. So once more, a SUMMER RERUN. If you wrote a story for this prompt from 10 April 2015, feel free to rerun yours. Thank you for understanding.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

ONLY THE MOUNTAIN REMAINS

My dearest Zhilan,

This night my thoughts turn toward home and you. I cherish the times we invited the moon to join us as we shared rice wine. Remember how we dreamed I would find Gold Mountain?

Now my journey is hard and my days are filled with the pickaxe and train tracks. Never will I see you again, my fragrant orchid, nor our precious son…

***

“Fever musta took him.” Levi knelt beside the body and pried a piece of crumpled paper from its stiff hand. “Whatcha make a this?”

Orville squinted and shrugged. “Jest some ignorant Chinee scribbles.”

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Engaging, Uplifting and Altogether Heartbreaking

Published August 2, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Some of my readers may recognize the name of this prolific participant in Friday Fictioneers. Over the past week, I’ve been completely lost in this beautifully written novel. So I’m posting my review here.

I never did learn to speed read. It will usually take me a while to plod through a book, even if I’m enjoying the read. It’s rare for me to pick up a 400 plus page novel and read it from cover to cover in three days.

Emilia by Na’ama Yehuda is one of those books. The multi-faceted story sucked me in from the first paragraph and didn’t cut me loose until the last line.

Granted, other tasks ended up in the ignore pile. Things like sleeping.

Set in the 1800’s, the story opens with KayAnne, Emilia’s tutor, rescuing the child from the unimaginable horror she’s suffered at the hands of her guardian. Determined to take Emilia to a safe place, KayAnne boards a train to a place she’s only heard of in passing—a lighthouse run by an old woman who helps broken women heal.

Not only did the compelling story draw me in, but the well-developed characters from Marion the keeper of the lighthouse to Big Ben, a gentle intuitive horse. The moment I met Marion, I felt safe.

I laughed at the antics of puppy, Billy-Boo and ground my teeth at the cruelty exhibited by certain characters. The intricate plot twists kept me engaged and in suspense. As I came to the final line, my heart cried out for more.

Na’ama’s experience working with childhood trauma shines through exquisitely in this sensitively written novel.

Na’ama Yehuda

You can find EMILIA here.

Weekend Writing Prompt – Peristeronic

Published August 1, 2020 by rochellewisoff

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.

(A mini history lesson in 53…Of cabbages and kings, of pigeons ant things.)

PERISTERONIC

“Cher Ami.” said Grandpa, “was a hero of the Great War. The Krauts shot a hole in his chest, blasted out his eye and blew off his leg. Yet nothing could deter him from his mission.”

“He must’ve been a tough.”

“Yessir. Two-hundred of us doughboys owe that tough carrier pigeon our lives.”

October 4, 1918

31 July 2020

Published July 29, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Between finishing a novel, writing a book proposal and visiting my one and only brother, I’ll be somewhat out of pocket for the the next couple of weeks. Therefore it’s SUMMER RERUN TIME. For those of you who recognize this prompt from 2013 and were part of Friday Fictioneers, feel free to reprise your own story.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

KIA ORA

In March 1956, the year I turned fourteen, my best friend was murdered. They found her mangled body wedged in a rock crevice at Koutu Point.

For days I refused to get out of bed. No amount of Mum’s tea and sympathy could ease my broken heart or stem my anger.

The winter wind off the Tasman Sea brought waves of loneliness.

Never again will Opo and I swim together in Hokianga Harbour, but whenever I watch a dolphin spin above the water in gleeful abandon, I see her.

I hope the fisherman who blew up my Opo exploded, too.

Original artwork.
Copyright -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Opo_(dolphin)

With Dream Awakened Eyes

Published July 22, 2020 by rochellewisoff

I feel that more of Charlotte’s story needs to be told. So bear with me as I double dip this week.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WITH DREAM AWAKENED EYES

Following her grandparents’ deaths, a doctor suggested Charlotte take up painting to ease her depression. She lost herself in gouache. Every day her paintbrushes illustrated her life story. Humming, she rendered herself as a child waiting for her angel mother to return from heaven. Sketching by the sea. The Wehrmacht marching through the streets.

“I become them all,” she said. “I travel their paths. No power on earth can stop me.”

One night, she handed Dr. Moridis her hundreds of masterpieces. “Keep these safe, they are my whole life.”

Months later Charlotte Salomon and her unborn child perished in Auschwitz.

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f4166acbc2729d611d7017d8c1b9cdb2--salomon-book-art

250px-Charlotte_Salomon_painting_in_the_garden_about_1939

Charlotte_Salomon_-_JHM_4762_-Kristallnacht

Charlotte Salomon with her grandparents

24 July 2020

Published July 22, 2020 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.