9 March 2018

Published March 7, 2018 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 © Sandra Crook

get the InLinkz code

Please be considerate of your fellow fictioneers. Keep your word count to 100 or less. Thank you.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

HOUSE OF LIFE

I was only a child in 1943, the year my world flipped upside down. The Germans arrested my father. What could my caro papà have done to make him a prime enemy of the Third Reich?

Our neighbor, who was a nurse, took Mammina and me to Fatebenefratelli Hospital. “Dr. Borromeo will take good care of you.”

“But I’m not sick,” I said.

“Anzi, bella, you are very sick with Syndrome K.” Dr. Borromeo assigned us to a room with a sign on the door that read, Altamente Contagioso “Any time you see Wehrmacht uniforms, cough like you are dying.”

*

CLICK TO KNOW MORE

Fatebenefratelli Hospital

2 March 2018

Published February 27, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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

get the InLinkz code

NOTE: Oops! Tuesday is NOT the new Wednesday. As some of you already know, I write and schedule my stories ahead. (Keeps my sanity…well…somewhat.) At any rate, I scheduled the wrong start date. At least the prompt is here…some might remember the week my page went live but the prompt didn’t show up with it. Thanks for understanding.

Please be considerate of your fellow fictioneers and keep your word-count at 100 words or less–title not included. Thank you.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

REQUIEM FOR A HEAVYWEIGHT

“What’s your name, kid?”

Winded from his match, the coal miner’s son took a deep breath. “Volodymyr Palahniuk.”

His prospective manager punched Volodymyr’s stomach. “Tight as a drum. And you’re lightning in the ring, but that moniker’s gotta go. Whatcha think of……say… Jack Brazzo?”

“I like it.”

“Atta boy.”

Over the next year, Jack scored 15 victories and 12 KO’s. A force to be reckoned with until Joe Baksi, another coal miner’s son, outpointed him.

Years later Jack, who changed Brazzo to Palance and turned to theater, said, “You must be nuts to get your head beat in for $200.”

*

190px-Requiem_for_a_Heavyweight_rod_serling

49f7f49b67c8b826376082fa2fe577bf--jack-palance-city-slickers

d711dd7e84efe88e19eaaf89449814b7--jack-palance-tv-movie

Jack Palance doing a on-armed push up at the 1992 Oscars

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Published February 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is back in Europe, visiting the Czech Republic for the first time. You’re invited to stroll the city of Karlovy Vary and choose your own view. Take your inspiration and write no more 150 words. Once your poem, story, or essay is polished, share it with others at the link up below:

I’m a little late to the party this week, but after being MIA for the past two weeks, I’m happy to have made it. 😉 Many thanks to Karen and Josh for their dedication to their growing challenge. I’m pleased to announce that I’m rounding the bend of the final heat for A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. Hopefully it will debut this Spring.

Here’s the photo I chose from the Pegman Buffet. My story doesn’t exactly take place here but a few kilometers away in Prague.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Shadow monsters chased Franz. Twisted trees and thorny brambles caught his clothes. He snapped open his eyes. Demons vanished like steam over Mother’s cooking pot.

The wind blustered and howled outside, sounding like shouts of tyrants and wails of children. Franz’s tongue cleaved to the bottom of his mouth.

He cried out. “May I have a drink of water?”

“Go back to sleep, you little insect,” his father hollered.

“Please, Father, I am so thirsty.”

“Thirsty are you?” Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Franz opened his eyes. Father loomed over the bed like the ominous forest creatures of his nightmare. Instead of comforting words the child longed for, Father carried him to the balcony. “Never disturb my sleep again.” The door locked behind him.

Frigid wind whipped through the boy’s thin nightgown. For the rest of his all-too-brief life, Franz Kafka despaired of ever winning his father’s love.

*

Click here for more of Kafka

23 February 2018

Published February 21, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Marie Gail Stratford

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

ABIGAIL’S ROSE

Weary from tending her feverish child, she sank into her rocking chair. The baby, who had howled with pain most of the night, finally calmed. Abigail Adams caressed her daughter’s silky head and kissed her cool cheek.

“Sleep, now, my sweet Suky.”

Suky’s four-year-old sister tiptoed into the room. Abigail stopped rocking and held out a hand to her. “Can you not sleep, Nabby?”

“I dreamt the angels plucked a rose from our garden.” Nabby patted the baby’s back. “Is she feeling better, Mother?”

“Yes, my darling. Our rose is feeling ever so much better.”

“Then why are you weeping?”

*

Although much has been written about Abigail Adams, wife of President John Adams, I could find precious little about Grace Susanna Adams who died when she was 13 months old. As a mother, I cannot imagine the agony of losing a child that young, but, my friend and fellow fictioneer, Dale Rogerson, can for she has “been there.”

***

One of life’s happy ‘accidents’ came while following the research trail came in learning that there is a rose named Abigail Adams. Who knew?

16 February 2018

Published February 14, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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

Please be respectful of your fellow writers/readers and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you and Shalom.

get the InLinkz code

Once more I’m sharing an excerpt from an excerpt from both FROM SILT AND ASHES and A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. As I write, I’m making progress with the latter. Thank you for your patience and kind feedback.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

GOODBYE, HELLO

Ulrich held Havah’s letter to his nose and breathed in the aroma of rose water. He pictured her at her table, black waves cascading over her shoulders.

His mind harked back to Rotterdam Harbor where they bid each other farewell. The taste of their stolen kiss lingered on his lips, even as Arel waited on the dock.

“How are things in America?” asked his housemate Nikolai.

Ulrich tossed him the letter. “Read for yourself.”

“They’re happy despite the cold winter. Good for them.”

“Yes indeed.” Biting his lip, Ulrich crumpled the envelope. “I’m delirous for them.”

“Ulrich, let her go.”

Dr. Nikolai Derevenko © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Coming soon!

Book II of Havah’s Trilogy

Ulrich Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Havah at her writing table © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

2 February 2018

Published January 31, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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

Please be considerate to your fellow writer/readers and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.

get the InLinkz code

The crunch is on. I’ve started putting a manuscript together for A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. So most of my writing energy these days is going into the short stories and excerpts for the book. The following is a tweaked excerpt from FROM SILT AND ASHES that’s cut down from the version that’s going in the next book. That made perfect sense, right?

Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1904

Word Count: 100

DOORPOST

Havah traced the shin, the first letter of the word Shaddai, Almighty on the weathered tube on her door jamb with her index finger. The mezuzah was one of the few things she managed to salvage from the ruins of her village.

She remembered how David, then thirteen, spent hours carving the wood. Careful not to crack it, he hollowed out a place to insert the parchment scroll inscribed with Torah verses. How had it survived? She brought her fingertips to her lips and kissed them, remembering her brother’s face.

“Sweet David, your words have I hidden in my heart.”

*

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

David and Mendel Cohen Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

FUROR

Published January 29, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman visits Bristol in the southwest of England. This week’s location was suggested by the talented and inspiring Kelvin M. Knight, blogger and flash fiction ninja. If you haven’t already, wander over and check out his blog.

Your mission is to write a 150-word story, poem, or essay inspired by this week’s location. You’ll find both photo spheres and streetview to inspire you. Once your piece is polished, please share it with other Pegman contributors using the link up below.

It has been one majorly busy weekend with an unexpected trip to the ER and a whole day lost. Here it is Monday morning…still catching up on Friday Fictioneers and posting a late Pegman story. What am I meshuggeh? On the other hand, the following tweaked snippet from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN puts me closer to having A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY completed. So it’s all good, right? Of course right!

Colston Hall in Bristol taken in 1917

Genre: Historical Fiction (Vienna 1908)

Word Count: 150

FUROR

Deep satisfaction surged through Ulrich. Four-year-old Rachel enthralled audiences across Europe, from Colston Hall in Bristol, to, just days before, in Vienna’s Musikverein.

“Rachel is a magnificent talent,” said Catherine.

“A prodigy. My little Mozart.”

The steady clop of the horses’ hooves along the cobblestones lulled Ulrich as they made their way around the circular courtyard called the Schwarzenbergplatz.

He stopped the carriage. “The famous Hochstrahlbrunnen fountain.”

“It’s simply gorgeous!”

In the midst of a large round pool, a geyser-like fountain spotlighted from below illuminated the night sky, by turns, with purple, blue, yellow, green and red.

A strident voice split through the peaceful water’s swooshing. A rail-thin youth gestured with the fervor of one addressing thousands rather than one equally scrawny youngster.

“These strange ones with their ugly language that sounds like snuffles and squeaking and their odd dress have no place here. We are Germans. ‘Deutschland über alles!’”

Child prodigy © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Catherine Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Ulrich Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Hochstrahlbunnen fountain © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

19 January 2018

Published January 17, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

“The key to building an audience is reading and commenting others’ works.” Russell Gayer

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

As the new year has begun, I need to concentrate on my coffee table book. (I hope you’re not tired of hearing about it.)

There are always those scenes on the cutting room floor. Here’s one that didn’t make it into AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. It’s edited from over 200 words as well. The lesson to be learned here is ‘never throw anything away.’ 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A TIME TO LAUGH

Guilt niggled Havah for watching Vaudeville at Electric Park on the Sabbath. But didn’t the Book say laughter is good for the soul?

Jugglers wearing gaudy costumes spun plates on sticks. Acrobats in skintight outfits flipped in midair.

Havah marveled when the magician made a pair of turtledoves appear out of nowhere.

“It’s called sleight of hand.” Itzak shrugged. “He probably had them stuffed in his trousers.”

“Who cares? He’s amazing!”

Next the trickster’s dog pointed to letters on cards with his paw to spell out his name—P-I-L-U.

In a stage whisper, Itzak said, “Glad his name isn’t Constantinople.”

Kansas City’s Electric Park circa 1900

Mrs. Havah Gitterman

Itzak Abromovich

Coming soon!

12 January 2018

Published January 10, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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.

Out of consideration for your readers/fellow writers, please keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you and shalom.

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WEB OF THE ABSURD

“It’s a great role, awesome potential,” said Fred. “Who knows? Could make you a star.”

Apprehension flooded Adam. “I’m trying to have a serious career.”

“You call spaghetti westerns and chocolate milk commercials serious? C’mon, kid, whaddya got to lose?”

“All right, it can’t hurt to read the script.”

Weeks later, Adam slid tights over his muscular legs. “No one’s going to buy this.”

Securing the long cape, he flexed his toned pectorals and grinned at his reflection through his cowl’s eye openings. “Not bad.”

As Adam West emerged from his dressing room, Burt Ward shouted, “Holy guano, it’s Batman!”

*

Here’s one of those commercials that led to the creation of an icon:

Toodle-loo, Mr. West.

The Dynamic Duo: Burt Ward as Robin & Adam West as Batman

Hey!

MOST HOLY PLACE

Published January 6, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week, Pegman takes us to the cradle of civilization: Tel Saki, Syria. The country has been at war longer than Pegman has been mapping, so the pictures are confined to photo sphere and often feature shattered lands and cityscapes.

Thanks to J Hardy and his lovely missus Karen for hosting. 😀

I really was going to wait to write a story today, but this photo grabbed me and wouldn’t let go.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

MOST HOLY PLACE

25 October 1973

My Dearest Y’hudit,

This morning, the doctor told me I’ll be home in time for our son’s Brit Milah. Unless he is a she. I would wink but my eyes no longer work.

Why on the holiest of holidays? One minute I’m davening in shul and the next I’m dodging tanks and enemy bullets. No time to break the fast.

I watched our field doctors bind the wounds of Egyptians. “Would Moses do the same?” I asked Baruch Levin, one of our medics.

He replied, “Talmud teaches, ‘He who saves one life… is as if he saves an entire universe.’ On the battlefield no life that can be saved should be lost.”

Later, one of his grateful patients blew Baruch’s righteous head off. It was the last thing I saw…forever.

I’m sorry to burden you, my beloved. I hope you can still love me.

Eem ahavah,

Amitai