23 November 2018

Published November 21, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Fun times with Russell Gayer at Ozarks Writers League Conference. November 17, 2018 (Not the prompt 😉 )

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 (Many thanks for the gracious loan of your photo. 😉

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Genre: Historical Fiction based on an actual survivor’s account.

Word Count: 100

PERSPECTIVES

Holding her granddaughter’s hand, Marta shut her eyes. “Doesn’t the water make a beautiful sound?”

Barely six, Segol fidgeted beside her. “It’s just water, Savta.”

“No. It sings the song of eternity.” Opening her eyes, Marta pointed to Segol’s new dress. “Your ema tells me you couldn’t decide between this blue one or the green one. She said you cried and cried.”

Segol hung her head and muttered. “Yes.”

“Such a choice. When I was six, I had to make a choice, too. Should I go with my mother to Auschwitz or flee to the convent? I cried and cried.”

***

Happy Thanksgiving this week to my American friends. I thought of reposting this story I shared 3 years ago. It’s a different perspective re Thanksgiving. The story is called “Keshagesh” which is a Cree word for “Greedy Guts.” Since many of you read and commented on it then, I’m just posting the link for the curious. https://rochellewisoff.com/2015/11/25/27-november-2015/

16 November 2018

Published November 14, 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.

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1955

Word Count: 100

DEATH OF A NATION

Catherine Sunrise and her friend Douglas gathered stones called Apache tears to honor Old Mrs. Coonie’s passing.

Catherine waded into the stream to search. The ripples sparkled in the afternoon light. “Grandfather says she spoke fluent English, but I never heard her utter a word, did you?”

“Nope.” Douglas picked up a shiny stone. “She fought alongside Geronimo but ratted him out to the Cavalry. They rewarded her with 27 years in prison.’”

“Maybe that’s why she clung to Apache ways when she came home.” Catherine raised her hands. “Farewell, Dahteste, Grandmother Warrior. Soar on the spirit of the wind.”

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Purple Prose and Passion on the Airwaves

Published November 2, 2018 by rochellewisoff

PURPLE PROSE AND PASSION ON THE AIRWAVES

Wow! Where does the time go? Nearly a year ago I did a radio interview with Dr. Paul Reeves on his Family Talk program. At the time we chatted about writing, Friday Fictioneers and the coffee table companion book I was working on.

A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY debuted the first week in September so Dr. Paul invited me back to discuss my opus. 😉

He has a way of putting the interviewee at ease. I think that particular morning the conversation could’ve continued well into the afternoon. We spoke of the joys of aging while staying young. As we did last year, we talked about Friday Fictioneers which is so much a part of my life. I hope you enjoy listening to the interview as much as I enjoyed doing it.

Stay Tuned for Part 2 as Dr. Paul invited me back to read a few selections from A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. It’s tentatively set to air Monday, November 26.

Shalom,

Rochelle

Dr. Paul Reeves

I hope you’ll check out all four books of the Trilogy.

2 November 2018

Published October 31, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 © Jeff Arnold

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Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

This is actually an excerpt from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. I removed the names and didn’t have enough words to give you the setting anyway. The book itself is historical fiction but this scene could take place anywhere I think. (If you want to more, the book’s available on Amazon or from the author. 😉 )

GODSPEED

Like a brother, he gave her forehead a discreet kiss. “Farewell, my sweet friend. You’ve written a melody on my heart that will play on forever.”

Suddenly his forced smile dissolved. He engulfed her in a strong embrace and mashed his lips against hers. Then he dropped his arms and stepped back.

Lips tingling and unsure of what to do or say next, she studied his face. She wanted to remember every detail, every line. Taking a step toward him she rose on tiptoe, brushed her lips over his cheek and whispered, “I will miss the music in your eyes.”

*

I hope you’ll check out all four books of the Trilogy.

12 October 2018

Published October 10, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

CRY OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT

Ten-year-old Annie had never ridden on a train. Cousin Anastasia said it would take her and her brother to Springfield. How odd. Stasia never kissed her before. What did Uncle John mean when he muttered, “Almshouse”?

“D’ya think Nellie and Mama and Johnny are happy in Heaven, Jimmie?” Annie asked.

His feverish snoring answered her. She wished she could see the scenery whizzing by.

“Not to worry, little one,” said her invisible faerie friend with an Irish brogue. “Someday you’ll do great things.”

“Me? How? I’m only an ignorant blind girl nobody wants.”

“Trust me, darlin’ Annie Sullivan. You will.”

Helen Keller with Annie Sullivan Macy (Teacher)

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FLIGHT THROUGH HELL

Published September 30, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Pegman did not get enough of this lovely region of Europe, so this week Pegman heads a little further west to the Douro Valley of Portugal.

This week’s suggestion comes from the talented Lish over at Up From the Ashes. Be sure head over to her blog and enjoy not just this week’s story, but her excellent poetry and other entertaining stories.

Your mission on Pegman, as always, is to write up to 150 words inspired by the prompt. Feel free to use the image supplied above, or visit the Douro Valley yourself via Google maps and find your own street view or photo sphere for inspiration. Or better yet, visit it in person, and take the rest of us Peg-people with you!

Once your story/essay/poem is finished, share it with others using the link up below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

It has been a busy week and I really didn’t think I’d post a story this time. Once more, the Google trail and my muse conspired against my plans. And just when I think I’ve sussed out all “those stories,” another comes to light.

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for keeping this challenge afloat.

Synagogue in Douro…yep, I found one.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

FLIGHT THROUGH HELL

“Mue amigo, my position in the Portuguese consulate gives me the power to grant you and your wife and children visas,” said Aristides de Sousa Mendes, “and safety from the German Madman.”

Rabbi Chaim Kruger twined the end of his beard around his index finger. “Can you do the same for my brothers and sisters stranded here on the streets of Bordeaux?”

Tortured by his inability to grant his friend’s request and other personal issues, Sousa Mendes suffered a breakdown. Following a rapid recovery, he threw off the bedclothes and proclaimed, “From now on I’m giving everyone visas.”

When faced with charges of “disobeying during higher service” by the Portuguese government in 1940 he responded. “I could not differentiate between nationalities as I was obeying the dictates of humanity.”

In 1966, Sousa Mendes became the first diplomat to be recognized by Israel as one of the Righteous Among the Nations.

*

Rabbi Chaim Kruger with Sousa Mendes

One of the visas issued by Sousa Mendes

Jewish Refugees in Belgium

Simplified version of the medal given for the Righteous Among the Nations

28 September 2018

Published September 26, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 © Yvette Prior

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE BUTLER DID IT

Six-year-old Billy earned a bit here and there on the Post-Civil War streets of Richmond dancing for anyone who’d watch.

A passerby tossed a penny at the boy’s feet. “Cute little darky.”

Determined to be more than a ‘pickaninny,’ Billy tapped his way from Vaudeville to the Harlem, and, ultimately, to Broadway. Top hat and tails became his trademarks.

Hollywood relegated him to servant roles.

“Everything’s copacetic.” He said as he instructed his diminutive partner. “Take small steps or you know what happens.”

Slipping her lily-white hand in Bill “Bojangles” Robinson’s, Shirley Temple giggled. “Yeah, I fall on my keester.”

****

Here’s a taste of what I’m talking about:

COLLATERAL ORANGE DAMAGE

Published September 9, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Hanoi, Vietnam. Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the location. Feel free to use the image supplied with the prompt or take your own tour of Hanoi. You’ll find photosheres and a limited amount of street view in Hanoi.

Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the link up below. Reading and commenting on others work is part of the fun.

I hated to miss another week so I hope no one minds that I’m sharing something of a rerun. Not enough brain cells this morning to come up with something new. 😉 Thanks to Karen and Josh for keeping Pegman going.

This isn’t a fun piece by any stretch. Some may remember the shorter version I posted in Friday Fictioneers in February of 2016. Once more I dedicate this story to my brothers in law who both served in Vietnam and suffer the effects of Agent Orange.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

COLLATERAL ORANGE DAMAGE

(Expanded)

“Farewell, Rob” was all I could muster as I laid my battered dog tags on his grave.

We’d been through a lot together, but in the end it wasn’t a Viet Cong bullet, but prostate cancer that got him. Doc says I’m next on the hit parade.

Please try to understand. We were soldiers following orders.

“A little defoliating agent to clear the jungle and expose the enemy.” Our commanding officers assured us. “Nothing that will harm a human.”

I’d read of the far reaching effects and wanted to check it out for myself. I booked a flight and a room in beautiful downtown Hanoi.

Last night, after taking in the sights, I visited a children’s hospital in Ho Chi Minh City. There the fruits of our labors languish with twisted or missing limbs and eyes that bulge from enlarged skulls.

We have exposed the enemy, and he is us.

Click Here for a Disturbing Illustration

7 September 2018

Published September 5, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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.

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BEAUTIFUL DREAMER

Minnie stared out her window at the rising moon and yawned.

“Girl,” said Mama Mary, Minnie’s great-grandmother. “You ain’t gonna learn to read stayin’ up all night.”

“I hate school. The kids call me Minnie Crazy.”

“Tell me what’s in them visions, child?”

“I see my great-great-grandma being brung here on a slave ship. I see elephants and birds and angels.”

Minnie Evans’ visions continued to haunt her. One day, paintbrush or crayon in hand, she recreated her dreams.

Her husband Julian frowned. “Pictures don’t put food on the table.”

Minnie trembled. “God told me I havta paint or die.”

*

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Heeding the Call by Minnie Evans

In her own words:

IF THY RIGHT HAND OFFEND THEE

Published July 29, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Kinshasa, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the location. Feel free to use the image provided in the prompt, or chose from photo spheres around Kinshasa. Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the linkup below.

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this challenge for globetrotting writers. It’s the extra 50 words that keep me coming back. 😉

Remember – Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

IF THY RIGHT HAND OFFEND THEE

August 12, 1896

Ma chérie,

I signed on for the Congo, eager to serve Leopold—to civilize the savage.

I hold your face in my heart—the celestial blue of your eyes, the curve of your fair cheek and sweetness of your lips. But this vision is no longer enough to sustain me. Forgive, my love, another face has replaced yours. It is magnificent. Brown with midnight eyes. Every whit as handsome as our own Francois and no older.

I followed orders. I lopped off his right hand for not meeting our rubber quotas. What kind of savage does this to another human being?

________

Upon entering the tent, Andre dropped to his knees. “Dear God!”

Louis tutted and pulled a blanket over their fallen comrade. “Why on earth did Thomas take his own life?”

Picking up a blood-spattered hatchet, Andre shuddered. “And how could he chop off his own hand?”