24 January 2020

Published January 22, 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 © Na’ama Yehuda

Click Frog and Enjoy!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

TRIBUTE IN CHOCOLATE, VANILLA AND COFFEE

“Rose, try my new flavor. It’ll be a sensation!” Reuben Mattus scooped a white dollop into a bowl. “How fortuitous that my injection pump should malfunction.”

“Nu?” His wife looked up from her ledger. “It’s vanilla ice cream. You’ve been making it for over forty years.”

“Not like this.”

The dense confection sent shivers of delight through her. “Oy, you’re right.”

“What do you think of Häagen-Dazs for a name?”

“What’s it mean?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. But it sounds Danish.”

“Why Danish?”

“To thank Denmark for its kind protection of our people from that mamzer who called himself the Führer.”

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17 January 2020

Published January 15, 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.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STRENGTH IN EACH TEAR

Lula cuddled and sang to her two-year-old son. The doctor’s words echoed through her mind. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. You need a miracle.”

The screaming prayers of the itinerate preacher beseeching God for a miracle only served to add to Lula’s sorrow. Her baby would never enjoy the beauty of a red rose or a blue sky. Born too soon, the incubator stole his sight.

“Don’t you worry. We’ll make our own miracle.”

Ten years later, Barry Gordy dubbed Lula’s boy Little Stevie Wonder, saying, “Mrs. Morris, your son’s musical gift is nothing short of a miracle.”

WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT- DEVOUR

Published January 11, 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

This morning I’m taking the liberty of rerunning a Friday Fictioneers story from November of 2016. It’s historical fiction, a bit embellished perhaps…but, hey, that’s the fiction part. I added 8 words to meet the word count. (Title not included 😉 )

“…it was intended to be the Mercury theater’s own version of dressing up in a sheet and jumping out of a bush and saying, ‘Boo!’ Starting now we couldn’t soap all your windows and steal your garden gates by tomorrow night so we did the next best thing.” Orson Welles, October 30,1938

THE NIGHT AMERICA TREMBLED

In 1938 my dad sprang for a new RCA Victor 7K1 console.

The radio took a prominent place in our home. President Roosevelt’s voice filled our living room. I loved Charlie McCarthy. My sister adored Bing Crosby and soap operas like Our Gal Sunday

One night, putting the finishing touches on my Halloween costume, mom turned the dial. “Stardust, Ramon Raquello and his orchestra.”

I rolled my eyes. “Boring.”

A panicked voice interrupted. “Ladies and gentlemen this is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed…”

We cowered, believing, as many Americans did, invaders from Mars had landed.

What a pity they weren’t real and didn’t devour the Reichstag.

2019 Attitude of Gratitude Challenge!

Published January 6, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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Spreading positive vibes throughout the internet.

Four years ago Dawn Q. Laundau of Tales from the Motherland (Click for more details) presented other bloggers with the challenge to spread gratitude throughout the internet. It’s very simple. Take 10 minutes to list 50 or more things you are thankful for. I managed to type 52 before the chicken went off on my iPhone timer.

My husband of 48 years
My children – 3 grown sons
My granddaughters- 2 adorable little girls.
A contract with Diane Nine, ninespeakers.com for my latest manuscript What the Heart Wants (She said she loves it! Who can ask for better than that?)
I can still do a cartwheel
My regular mile swim and a pool less than a mile from home
Being able to work out regularly
Good health
Painting-love me some watercolors
Good friends
Art shows
Finding my books on display in a local library
Goat cheese omelets
Reconnecting with my brother Jeff and making the 2^nd annual trip to see him in NC
Getting my furry fix with his dogs there
Strong black coffee every morning
A trip to Israel in May
The gift of the trip financed by my cousin Kent
Reconnecting with my first cousin Wendy who moved to Tel Aviv years ago
My brand new, wonderful HP Pavillion desktop.
My HP laptop so I can travel and still write.
My latest WIP a novel based on my experience with anorexia
My continued recovery from the same
A cozy office
Book club-the opportunity to discuss a book with others
The dance team at my synagogue
KC BBQ none like it on the planet
Blogging friends
Friday Fictioneers – Try it, you’ll like it!
Other blog challenges
Facetime with friends around the world
My printer, Alexis (a person and an artist in her own right) \ who makes my artwork look even better
Good art and book sales in 2019 (not as good as 2018 – but good)
Folk music
Classical music
My little Chevy Cruz, a standard transmission (dying breed that one)
Nieces and Nephews
Typing skills my mother taught me when I refused to take it in school (why did I need to know how to type?-what foresight she had!)
A slightly warped sense of humor or humour, depending on which side of the pond you’re on 😉
Being able to flip turn in the pool (ecstasy)
Spring and Autumn
Lilacs and daffodils
Eyes to see
A tongue to taste a good Sauvignon Blanc or Cabernet Sauvignon
Indian food
Israeli food
Fresh vegetables and fruits
A woman doctor who understands and supports me
A mother of blessed memory who was a grammar patrolwoman
A muse who shares stories with me.
Being young enough to enjoy life and old enough to remember the 50’s and 60’s…black & white TV’s, rotary phones…good times those.
A blog friend like Dawn who facilitates a Gratitude Challenge.

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN THE FUN!

27 December 2019

Published December 24, 2019 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

Click on the Frog to join the Festivities!

Due to my scheduling error, this has gone live on Tuesday instead of Wednesday. Consider it a Christmas or Hanukkah present. Easier to leave it than take it down and start over. Oops.

Shalom,

Rochelle

Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! This week I’m taking a break and posting a retread from nearly six years ago. Some may recognize the story. (different photo) A special thank you to those who have been with Friday Fictioneers as long or longer than I.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A SOLDIER OF THE GREAT WAR

In 1918 Dad deployed to France singing “Over There” and returned, months later, a sullen shell.

Then, for Christmas 1919, Grandma gave me a stub-tailed, bull-terrier puppy.

Instead of the “you-can’t-keep-it” snarl I expected, Dad grinned.

“He’s the spittin’ image of the bravest soldier in the 102^nd. Bullets and mustard gas couldn’t defeat him.”

“He looked like a dog?”

“Not ‘looked like,’ son. I’d a never made it outta the trenches if that pooch hadn’t…”

Dad coughed and blinked, took my pup under one arm, straightened to attention and raised his hand-hook to his brow.

“Sergeant Stubby, I salute you!”

20 DECEMBER 2019

Published December 18, 2019 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

Click the Frog & Hop Aboard!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STRONG MEDICINE

Susan rocked three-year-old Pierre as she watched snow fall outside the window. She kissed his damp forehead.

Six-year-old Caryl padded into the room and climbed up beside his brother. “Can you make him well, Momma?”

She tweaked Caryl’s nose. “He’ll be breaking your toys by breakfast.”

“You’re the bestest.” Caryl’s dark eyes shone. “Why did you become a doctor?”

“I was a little older than you when I watched a sick woman die. Mama sent for the doctor—not once, but four times.”

“Why didn’t he come?”

“To him she was an Indian like us and her life didn’t matter.”

CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFO

13 December 2019

Published December 11, 2019 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 © Mikhael Sublett

Give us a little click.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

KEEPSAKE

Hadassah stood amid the ruins of her once elegantly furnished home.

She ached for two-year-old Aaron who had been seized and taken to the gas chamber. Peter took a bullet trying to save their son.

Typhoid claimed thirteen-year-old Gittel hours before the liberation.

Seven-year-old Gittel held out a piece of paper splotched with color.

“What is it?”

The child huffed. “Anyone can see it’s a butterfly.”

“Our daughter’s an artist.” Peter beamed. “I’ll frame it.”

“How on earth…?” With a gasp, Hadassah dropped to her knees and pulled the unscathed picture from the rubble.

“I painted it for you, Mama.”

EXCUSE THE DUST ON MY BLOUSE

Published December 8, 2019 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.

136 words? That’s 36 more words than required in Friday Fictioneers. Naturally I’m compelled to share a flash fiction. Couple that with the fact that I read on Google this morning that this is the anniversary of the lady’s birth. Happy 155th Birthday, Camille Claudel!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 136

EXCUSE THE DUST ON MY BLOUSE

“It’s wrong for a girl to dirty her fingers in the mud.” Mère chided little Camille. “It’s against nature.”

Auguste stroked his thick beard. “You are a wonderfully talented sculptor, Camille. Quite a talent indeed. I shall make you my apprentice—take your gift to new heights.”

The nineteen year-old flushed. She couldn’t believe the great Rodin should consider her work worthy of his time.

Now her mother would eat her words.

Auguste pressed his lips against Camille’s neck. “You are as beautiful as you are gifted.”

She melted into his arms. “Mon cher professeur I love you.”

“Alas I cannot leave my Rose.”

Mère fumed. “I always knew you’d bring us shame.”

Camille left Auguste’s studio. Her work became her barricade against pain.

One critic described her as “A revolt against nature: a woman genius.”

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THE AMERICAN DREAM

Published December 1, 2019 by rochellewisoff

“Today Pegman visits the corner of Tulsa’s Greenwood Avenue and Archer Street.

The Greenwood district was a thriving African-American community with luxury shops, restaurants, grocery stores, hotels, jewelry and clothing stores, movie theaters, barbershops and salons, a library, pool halls, nightclubs and offices for doctors, lawyers and dentists. It had its own school system, post office, a savings and loan bank, hospital, and bus and taxi service

This is an unusual prompt today because it’s focused on a specific time and place, and as such is sort of an experiment. We at Pegman encourage you to look into this mostly-forgotten tragedy and write something about it, but as always you can write anything about Tulsa that strikes your fancy.”

CLICK THE FROG TO READ AND COMMENT ON THE STORIES OF OTHERS (AND TO ADD YOUR LINK 😉 )

Thanks to Josh and Karen for hosting the Pegman Challenge. I couldn’t very well resist a challenge that includes history. My heart goes out to the people of Greenwood. I dream of a day we can appreciate each other’s differences instead of trying to snuff them out.

The aftermath. 35 city blocks were razed to the ground.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE AMERICAN DREAM

I knew nothing of the so-called race riot that took over 300 lives in our district of Greenwood until 1996 when the Today Show ran a story. After seeing it on television, my 80-year-old grandfather agreed to let me interview him for a school report.

“You must understand,” he squeezed my hand, “my memories are those of a five-year-old.”

I poised my pen over my notepad. “Go on, Poppy.”

His faded gaze looked past me. “Four men ran toward the house with guns and lighted torches. Bam! My daddy fell.” A tear streamed down a crevice of Poppy’s leathered cheek.

“Mama yelled to us kids, ‘get up under the bed.’ Which we did. My sister clapped her hand over my mouth when one of the men tromped on my finger. I can still feel it. They set fire to the curtains. Life as we knew it went up in smoke.”

29 November 2019

Published November 27, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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Happy Anniversary to Jan Fields, my first husband for 48 years as of November 28!

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.

CLICK ON THE FROG TO JOIN

Genre: Historical Fiction circa late 1800’s

Word Count: 100

DIRECT OUR PATHS

“Dear Lord, we thank you for the bounty we are about to receive…for the Pilgrims and their faith…the first Thanksgiving…”

Folding her hands, ten-year-old Wawatseka renamed Victoria by her teachers, shut her eyes while Reverend Prichard droned on.

Grandfather’s stories wafted through her mind—a distant memory. “They feasted after each massacre of our people.”

Wawatseka’s ears ached for Mother’s songs and Father’s drumbeats. Detesting white gravy and mashed potatoes, Wawatseka longed for savory corn stew.

Thick fingers thumped her head. “Victoria! We’ve finished grace. What do you say?”

She glared at the reverend and, through clenched teeth, whispered, “Amen.”