IT’S WINE O’CLOCK

Published June 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This past Saturday, the town of Blue Springs, Missouri, hosted the annual event known as “Corks & Canvas.” Artists, musicians and wine vendors set up their tents up and down the street and hawk their wares.

After a month of August weather in May and June, the heatwave broke and we were grateful for cool morning breezes and clouds. Although sunshine prevailed as the day progressed, it was still cooler than the past few weeks have been.

This is our second year to participate. When I say “our” I include my husband Jan who takes charge of the heavy lifting and set up. I don’t know what I’d do without my Chief. 😉 (You should hear his sales pitches for my art and books. Makes me want to buy them.) Things went smoother with set up this year since it was no longer our first rodeo. Last year we spent months shopping for display supplies such as tent, tables and walls. This year the only thing I needed to do ahead of time was paint, frame and have a few more prints made.

Although it seems that fewer people showed up this year, it was an enjoyable time, nonetheless. A few friends I hadn’t seen for a while showed up to visit and lend their support. Did I think to take pictures of them?

One thing I appreciate about signings is the way my books, informed by my Eastern European family, often inspire others to share their histories with me. No exceptions here. I sold out of PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME and sold a few of the sequels FROM SILT AND ASHES and AS ONE MUST ONE CAN.

The wine glass note cards were also a hit. Many thanks to Alexis at Print Graphics for her diligence to details.

We received an invitation to participate in another wine fest in September in Independence, Missouri. It looks promising. I’d better order more books and do a few more wineglass paintings. 😉

Note to self: Bring a change of shoes next time.

L to R: Nettie Weinberg, Edith Weinberg, Miriam Wisoff

22 June 2018

Published June 20, 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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier

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As you read my story, you might be thinking the woman doesn’t know her geography. However the muse took me far from this Venice. Just think Thoreau. 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

ENEMY NON-ALIEN

February 14, 1943

Dear Diary,

Last night I dreamt I was back at Venice beach with my baby brother when armed soldiers snatched him away. I woke up screaming.

This morning my mother smiled a smile that couldn’t hide her sorrow. “Happy birthday, Suzuka.”

For years my parents longed for another child. Mommy prayed for a son. Last year we celebrated Hiroshi’s arrival—my 14^th birthday present—right before the ‘executive order.’

Six months ago he died of pneumonia.

Sun glints off the barbed wire fence as my classmates and I recite the Pledge of Allegiance to the American flag.

*

Pat Morita, American actor, who was sent with his parents to an internment camp.

Red-Blooded American Propaganda

American Actor, George Takei who spent time with his family in the camps as a child.

One of my favorite books on the subject, The Red Kimono, was written by our own FF’r Jan Morrill.

15 June 2018

Published June 13, 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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

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Genre: Literary Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE NIGHT BEFORE

At rehearsal dinner Daddy beamed. “Welcome to the family, Nathan.”

Nathan’s ice-blue eyes scorched me. “Til death do us part.”

The thick summer breeze did little to cool the screened-in sleeping porch. Nonetheless, Jimmy’s hot breath on my neck gave me chills.

“Nathan will kill you, Jimmy.”

“Don’t matter without you, Lucie.”

Whirring cicadas drowned out my whispered protests. Mutual desire finally had its way and I melted into Jimmy’s ebony arms.

___

No doubt Mama will swoon and Daddy will swear at the shame I’ve brought.

Miles from them, my beloved’s dark eyes consume me. “Til death do us part.”

MULTIPLICATION

Published June 10, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us caving in Texas in the United States. If you take the tour above, you can go caving. However, you’re free to visit nearby Amarillo or the Cadillac Ranch if you prefer.

Your mission is to write up to to 150 words inspired by the location. You can contribute a story, poem, or essay. Once your piece is polished, feel free to share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun.

Thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting the challenge.

The following story is admittedly a summer rerun. Some will remember the version entitled “Generations” I posted for Friday Fictioneers. I dusted it off, changed the title, added 50 words and, voila, a Pegman story is born. 😉 Some of you might remember it. The photo I chose is the same one I used in July 2015…has it really been three years?

Cadillac Ranch- © Jean L. Hays

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 150

MULTIPLICATION

“The summer of 1953. What a heatwave.” Great-Gran adjusted the thermostat. “We didn’t have air conditioning.”

“No A/C?” Fourteen year-old Megan put her DVD on pause. “You really did live in the Stone Age. What did you do for fun? Play with rocks?”

“Very funny, Missy.” Great-Gran giggled like a schoolgirl. “My boyfriend and I went to the drive-in theater on Saturday nights. If we were lucky there’d be a decent breeze and a good flick like Roman Holiday or From Here to Eternity.”

“Oh I adore those. I caught them on Netflix. Burt Lancaster was really hot in that sex scene on the beach.”

Great-Gran’s withered cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled. “I missed that part of the movie, but I think the scene in Bobby’s Bel-Air topped it.”

“April, 1954.” Megan saw her great grandmother in a whole new light. “Does Gramps know he’s a passion pit baby?”

I think the film clips bear repeating, too. 😉

8 June 2018

Published June 6, 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 © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100

DAY OF ATONEMENT

“Pardon me, Frau, what year is this?”

“Why 1889, of course.” The young mother lifts her son from his wicker pram. “5 October to be exact.”

My heart thumps. Weinstein, that lunatic genius has done it. It’s 200 years ago.

“Could you direct me to Salzburger Vorstadt 219?”

“That’s our address.”

“Frau—Hitler?”

“Ja.” She presses her cheek against the baby’s. “Adolf, let’s show the nice man the way.”

I tighten my hand around the gun in my pocket. The child gazes at me with innocent blue eyes.

What can I do? I’m doomed to let history run its course.

It’s a rhetorical question. Think hard before answering. Given the opportunity, could you pull the trigger?

*Note: October 5, 1889 was the highest of high Jewish holidays, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. What better day to off the future Fuehrer?

This is a bit unusual for me, but one FF’r took it upon herself to write her story as a solution to my protagonist’s dilemma. Here’s the link to Melody Pearson’s post.

AUCTION OF SOULS

Published May 26, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Armenia. You are welcome to use the photo provided in the prompt, or chose from among many photo spheres from across the country.

Will you dig into Armenia’s rich history? Delve into its present? Imagine its future? Or will you conjure your own alternate reality? The only rule is to keep your story, poem, or essay under 150 words.

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

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this weekly globetrotting experience.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

AUCTION OF SOULS

I had just curled up on the sofa when the doorbell rang. Sore from giving birth and sleep deprived from a full-night’s worth of colic, I padded to the door. There stood my Armenian grandmother, Teddy bear in tow.

“Tatik, I just put Joseph down for his nap.”

Her brown eyes twinkled. “I come to see my great-grandson. The first boy in two generations.”

Dropping the toy on the couch, she bent over the bassinet and swept my son into her arms. Suddenly, she collapsed into the rocker clutching him to her chest and burst into tears. “He looks just like my baby brother—Joseph. The Turks ripped him from my mother’s arms, buried him up to his shoulders in the dirt and crushed his little skull under their trucks. Sixty years later I still hear the screams.

“Because we were Christians they called us infidels. I call them bastards.”

December 1915 NY Times

18 May 2018

Published May 16, 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 submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FOOTPRINTS

The uniformed matron smiled. “Take off your shoes and tie the laces together so you can find them more quickly after your shower.”

The doors clanked shut behind the child. No cleansing water sprayed from the nozzles.

Cold tile chilled his bare feet. Naked, he shivered and gasped his final breaths.

“Mama! Mama!”

His desperate, silenced voice rattles my soul.

Could he have been another Einstein?

Perhaps he’d have been a storyteller whose words delighted thousands.

The shoe is crumpled and the eyelets are rusted. It fits the palms of my hands—the only evidence of a candle snuffed aborning.

*

TREDEGAR 1911

Published May 14, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Gwynedd, Wales. This week’s location was suggested by regular Pegman storyteller Alicia Jamtaas. Be sure to visit her site and enjoy her flash fiction and poetry over at https://lishwriter.wordpress.com/ Thanks for the great suggestion, Lish!

Your mission is to visit the region via Google Maps, and write (up to) 150 words inspired by the prompt. You can use the photo above, or browse around for your own view anywhere in Gwynedd. There are plenty of photo spheres around Caernarfon Castle, and both street view and photo spheres all over Gwynedd.

Once your piece is polished, you can share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

So here I am late for the party once more. And…while my picture is of a street in Gwynedd, my story takes place in another part of Wales–Tredegar. You may be saying, “Oy, there she goes with the Jewish history again.” 😉 Couldn’t help myself.

As always, thank you to Karen and Josh for facilitating this group of globe trotting writers.

Genre: Historical Fiction (You were expecting maybe vampires?)

Word Count: 150

TREDEGAR 1911

“Why, Adoshem?” Tears streamed from my papa’s eyes and soaked his beard. “Again and again You bring destruction upon us? For this we fled Russia—to be slaughtered in Wales? ‘He has hurled fire into my bones—’” A sob choked his words.

I trembled. The night before I’d hidden under my bed, covering my ears to blot out shouts of, “Get the Jews!” and the crash of shattering windows.

Broken furniture littered the floor. Papa’s sewing machine lay in two pieces. Spools of thread and shredded fabric were strewn everywhere.

Mama’s soft voice cut through the hush. “Danken Gott, we’re alive.”

Papa winced. “For how long. Everywhere the goyim hate us. ”

At that moment a Christian youth entered the shop, head bowed, and gave Papa a banknote. “My father sends his apologies and this to help rebuild.” He took a broom from the floor. “Perhaps I can help.”

CLICK FOR A BIT OF HISTORY

Some Even Call it Poetry

Published May 7, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Many thanks to Marsha Gershun who, for the third year in a row has organized the CloudBursT at Beth Torah Synagogue in Overland Park, Kansas.

Martha Gershun

This was my second year to participate. Although, only a handful of us turned up, it was a lovely time to share our individual Jewish experience.

Two of my Hebrew students came to support me…Joy and Joie…so you could say it was a joyful experience. 😉 I wish I’d thought to take a picture of the two of them. Alas, I didn’t so you’ll have to take my word for it that they are two very lovely ladies.

Although I would love to have shared a few other readers, my husband’s smartphone could only take so much. So for your watching and listening (hopefully) pleasure, here’s my part of the program. My Friday Fictioneers and other Pegman participants will undoubtedly recognize these pieces.

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Published May 6, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Happy Cinco de Mayo! This week, quite fittingly, Pegman takes us to Mexico. Participants are invited to poke around the resort village (and ancient Mayan stomping grounds) of Tulum. You’ll find both streetview and photospheres to inspire you at this location.

Your mission is to write a 150-word story-poem-essay inspired by the location. Feel free to wander around and find your own view to use in your post.

Once your piece is polished, you can share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

The photo I chose is from the “Pegman Buffet” but my story takes place in Chiapas, Mexico, a few miles inland from Tulum. The Mayans have always fascinated me. So many mysteries surrounding them.

Thanks as always to Karen and Josh for hosting this globe trotting challenge.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

The soft grass tickled her back as Yohl laid beside the stream. She relished the sun’s warmth on her face. The rush of the waterfall lulled her and a delicious wave of sleep washed over her.

“Yohl Ik’nal!”

She snapped open her eyes to see a giant looming above her. Sunrays splayed like a crown around his massive head. Lightning bolts from his dark eyes seared her.

Heart thumping, she rolled over and lay prostrate before him. “Itzamná, ruler of the heavens. All gods tremble in your presence. Why do you come to me, a mere girl child?”

Tucking his finger under her chin, he raised her head. “You shall be queen of your people.”

Like smoke rising from sacrificial fire, he vanished.

Ascending Palenque’s throne, Yohl assumed the burdens of her people. In the shadow of impending battle and bloodshed, she trembled and pondered her dream of long ago.