15 August 2025

Published August 13, 2025 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.

The photo is of an old graveyard. It looks like it’s beside a church. At any rate the headstones look to be quite old.

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The following story is a rerun from ten years ago as I’m still on vacation visiting my brother. Actually at this point, I’m bidding a fond farewell to him. The photo is also a rerun. Some of you wrote stories for it. Feel free to rerun yours as well.

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

WHERE THE GRAPES OF WRATH ARE STORED

“Water…somebody…please.”

Clara knelt next to the Union soldier and held a cup to his lips. The stench of feces and decaying flesh made her stomach roil. Her back and neck ached from three nights without sleep.

“Don’t you remember me, Miss Clara?”

At once she recognized the bright child from her long ago Texas schoolroom.

“Of course I do,” she whispered. “Save your strength, David. We’ll talk later.”

In one heart-stopping moment something ripped through her right sleeve. The cup dropped and David fell back, quivering in the agonies of death.

Clara Barton never mended the bullet hole.

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8 August 2025

Published August 6, 2025 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 © Jen Pendergast

The photo this week is of two coffee pots on a marble counter. Hope this gets your story brewing. 😉

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

BLESSED BEANS

“Holy Father,” Father Niccoló knelt before Pope Clemente VIII. “We have a serious problem brewing. You must forbid the people from partaking of this Satan’s drink, Your Holiness. This bitter beverage from the Muslim infidels stirs unnatural passions in good Christians.

The pontiff stroked his beard. “Bring me a cup of it, so that I might discern for myself,”

A steaming cup was brought to him. He breathed in the earthy aroma and then took a sip. After savoring the strong coffee’s warmth, he smiled and said, “This devil’s drink is delicious. We should cheat the devil by baptizing it.”

Legend or Fact? Who knows?

And just for fun. Wilkins Coffee commercials by the Muppets that aired from 1957-1960. 😀

1 August 2025

Published July 30, 2025 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 prompt is a grouping of crystals in what looks to be a museum display case. There a flash of light in the right upperhand corner and the crystals sparkle and reflect the light.

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This week I’m flying out to Wilmington NC for my annual visit with my brother and his wife. So here’s a blast from the past. 2015. There are some of you who were part of the Friday Fictioneers community then. Feel free to post your own rerun with the photo prompt…also a rerun.

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

SCHIST HAPPENS

I’ll never forget Mike O’Hara, my fellow New York sanitation worker. What a storyteller. Every Friday night me and the boys would settle round for a long listen.

“So I says to Mr. King, ‘whatcha make a dis rock I dug up?’”Mike took a long swig of beer. “Heavy sucker. Looks kinda like a red diamond. King says he knows a jeweler who’d kill for it.”

“This might be your tallest tale yet, O’Hara,” said Pete.

Mike had the last laugh when his “sewer garnet” made headlines in 1886. Pity he didn’t sell it hisself. Could-a made a fortune.

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18 July 2025

Published July 16, 2025 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

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

Another WWI hero denied his due in his own time.

WHAT DID YOU DO IN THE WAR, DADDY?

Twelve-year-old Elsie listened with rapt attention to Uncle Jim, Daddy’s army buddy from the war.

“There I was, bleeding in that French field, waiting to meet my maker. Then here comes your daddy, larger than life, slings me across his shoulders and runs back to the bunker under enemy fire.”

“Daddy never told me.”

“He’s too modest. It angers me that he never got the Congressional Medal of Honor he so deserved—because he was a Jew.”

War’s not about medals.” William Shemin shrugged. “I love my country.”

Elsie ground her teeth. “Daddy, someday I’m going to right this wrong.”

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11 July 2025

Published July 9, 2025 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 © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

BLACK DEATH

Henry struggled to catch his breath. The nurse sitting on the chair beside his bed reached over and squeezed his hand. “Can I get anything for you, Sergeant Johnson?”

“Been a long time since anyone’s called me sergeant.”

In three days, fireworks would herald Independence Day 1929. Whose independence? Despite his service, he was still considered less than human in his own country.

“My brother served with you in France.” Her eyes shone. “Says you’re a hero.”

“I just fought for my life. A rabbit would’ve done that.”

Shutting his eyes, Henry heaved a ragged sigh. His broken heart stopped.

Henry was dubbed “Black Death” by the Germans

Command Sgt. Maj. Louis Wilson of the New York Army National Guard accepts the Medal of Honor on behalf of World War I Pvt. Henry Johnson, who served with the 369th Infantry Regiment, known as the Harlem Hellfighters, at the White House, Washington, D.C., June 2, 2015.

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23 May 2025

Published May 21, 2025 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 © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

I YAM WHAT I YAM

To the delight of Elzie and his playmates, Rocky Fiegel made his muscles dance. “I fought my way from Poland to Chester, Illinois.”

“Did you really beat up five men at once?” asked Elzie.

“Tough brutes they was, too.” Puffing on his corncob pipe, Rocky gazed at the boys through his one good eye. “I pulverized ‘em with one hand behind my back.”

Whether true or not, Rocky’s tales fascinated E. C. Segar. As an aspiring cartoonist in the 1920’s he created one of history’s most beloved characters.

“Strong to the finich ‘cause I eats me spinach—Popeye the Sailorman.”

*************

I was fond of canned spinach as a child. Perhaps this is why. 😉 At any rate it was interesting to find that the cartoon character was drawn from an actual person.

Frank “Rocky” Fiegel

Elzie Crisler Segar and his creation

16 May 2025

Published May 14, 2025 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

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

ANY DAY SPENT WITH YOU IS MY FAVORITE DAY

“Colebourn, you’ve got rocks in your head,” said Harry’s tentmate. “The army’s no place for a bear.”

“The beast was going to shoot her” Harry caressed the cub. “I’m calling her Winnie after Winnipeg.”

As WWI raged, he realized the best thing he could do was to find her a temporary home.

At London Zoo he buried his face in her fur. “I’m coming back for you.”

When he returned four years later, Winnie had become a children’s favorite. They loved her with treats and cuddles. She returned their affection. Harry bid her a final fond farewell. Winnie was home.

Harry Colebourn and Winnie named after Harry’s hometown of Winnipeg.

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28 March 2025

Published March 26, 2025 by rochellewisoff

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INVISIBLE WARRIOR

The second world war to end all wars raged. Thousands of young men were invited by their draft boards to participate.

Eighteen-year-old Susan read a want-ad in the Baltimore Sun. “Eastern Aircraft is hiring women to be riveters.”

“That’s no job for a lady,” said Mama.

“It could pay my way to college.”

Determined, Susan joined 600,000 black women.

“We ladies worked together as an integrated America.” Ninety-nine-year-old Susan Taylor King, who’d earned two college degrees from Morgan University, told reporters. She fingered her red polka-dotted neckerchief with pride. “I’ve lived long enough to be black and important in America.”

21 March 2025

Published March 19, 2025 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Fiction
Word Count: 100

SHINE ON

Granddaddy leaned back in his threadbare recliner. The faraway gleam in his faded blue eyes told me a story was coming.

“Ginger stew. Mommy mixed in brown sugar and ginger. According to her it’d cure jest about anything.

“Rainwater made the best moonshine. And ya needed good tree cover in the woods. A-course it weren’t legal. We was always lookin’ over our shoulders for the law.”

“Why’d ya do it?” I gasped. “Wasn’t ya scared?”

“It was our cash crop. Scared? Nah. It’s like dating a woman that’s married,” he chuckled. “If it ain’t got risk, it ain’t no fun.”

28 February 2025

Published February 26, 2025 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

THE SEVEN DWARVES OF AUSCHWITZ

“As in the fairytale Snow White, there were seven of us,” says Perla. “My brothers, Micki and Avram, my sisters, Frieda, Rozika, Elizabeth and me. All of us entertainers—singing, dancing and playing musical instruments.”

Tears sting her eyes. “Not only were we deformed, we were also Jews. The Nazis deported us to Auschwitz.

“We fascinated Dr. Mengele. He syphoned our blood, extracted our teeth and did painful experiments.” Perla shudders. “Yet he kept us alive.”

“Are you sorry he wasn’t executed?” she’s asked.

“No. I was saved by the grace of the Devil. Let God give Mengele his due.”