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.
FOR THE DEAD AND THE LIVING, WE MUST BEAR WITNESS *
I remember it like it was yesterday—November 9, 1963 in Chicago, my father took me downtown to celebrate my 10th birthday.
His German accent sounded like music. “Vhere shall ve go, schatzi?”
“The Art Institute.”
I skipped along the sidewalk, holding his hand. He stopped and went to his knees in front of a synagogue. Slipping off his hat, he covered his face. The sun limned his blond waves.
“What’s wrong, Vati?”
“Meine Schande. Those magnificent windows—shattered! 25 years ago today. Schweinehund! Jewish businesses—destroyed! What did I do? Die Nill! I—I stood by and did nothing.”
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.
Please be considerate and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.
Once more another excerpt from my trilogy as I prepare the coffee table companion book, A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. Designed for those who like art and very short stories. 😉 This is an excerpt from the third in the series, AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. A little background for those unfamiliar. The menorah in the story is a ‘character’ of sorts. Crafted by Yussel’s father, it has survived the pogroms and the long journey to America.
Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1907
Word Count: 100
FAMILY HEIRLOOM
Arel scowled. “Lev, where’ve you been?”
“The library, I—”
“You missed supper.”
Havah grasped Arel’s arm and whispered, “Please let him explain.”
“My house. My rules.” Arel slapped Lev, knocking Yussel’s menorah off the table.
The ground listed beneath Havah’s feet.
Lev gasped.
Yussel cried out, dropped to his knees and searched with trembling hands until he found the broken pieces. He hugged them to his chest. Tears quivered in his sightless eyes.
“It’s only one branch, Papa.” Havah knelt beside him. “Surely it can be fixed.”
“Once a limb is severed can the tree be made whole again?”
The weekend, beginning with Thursday, the 26th was busy one. It began with an interview with Jim Christina and Russ Avison on The Writers Block. Some will remember that I had the joy of going out to California to interview in the studio with them last November. The opportunity just didn’t present itself this year so we muddle through via telephone. Nonetheless, I had a great time.
Here is the link with Jim’s generous intro: 😀
Russ and I had a great conversation with author and artist Rochelle Wisoff Fields last evening. An informed writer and unique historian of early 1900’s Russia and the US. Giver her books a read!Here is the podcast address:http://latalkradio.com/content/writer-102617%20#audio_play
It’s an hour long and 40 minutes of it is Yours Truly. I hope you’ll take the time to listen.
Russ Avison
Jim Christina
Finding Cure Through Literacy
Friday morning we hit the road at 5:00 AM to make the long drive to Texarkana for the 8th Annual Gathering of Authors, a charity event and book signing. The festivities were kicked off with benefit banquet. All proceeds were to go to St. Jude’s Hospital.
I made some new friends and valuable connections. Not to mention it was nice to just get away for a couple of days with my hubby.
Afterward went to spend the rest of the weekend with gracious hosts Tom and Frances Mosby in Dover AR. Since Jan hadn’t heard my interview and we had a long drive we listened to it. Now he knows that “big men walk in fear of me.” (Thanks, Russ.)
Frances and I have known each other since kindergarten so we can always find things to talk about. Yes, we still chatter like a couple of school girls. I’m glad that the guys get along so well, too.
Below are a few photos from the weekend for your viewing pleasure. 😉
Meeting of the artists. With Debra Jo Johnson
Judy Lowe, fellow author and new friend.
Frances and Tom Mosby. We forgot to take pics together so here they are at their sons recent wedding.
Alpacas on the Mosby ranch.
Young award winning authors
Chatting with Ann Redelfs, MD and new friend.
Meeting other authors for lunch on Friday
Tammy Holder Thompson, The woman who started it all.
As we meandered down our street toward home, our neighbor Bud who we’d asked to take in our mail, stopped us to tell us there was a serious problem. With my heart in my mouth, I followed Bud and Jan into their house. Bud’s wife, Cindi met us at the door with wine and said, “You won’t want to be our friends anymore. I washed your mail.”
Have you ever seen a stack of mail that has been trough wash, rinse and spin? Most of it was recognizable. Just mush around the edges. Once we ascertained that there was nothing of any consequence, we toasted our friendship with laughter and wine.
Thank you, Bud and Cindi Turner for being such good friends!
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.
“Sunrise, Sunset…” Will sang as he combed his thinning white hair, grinning at his reflection. “One season following…”
A sudden wave of exhaustion and chest pain whelmed him. Breathless, he sank into a chair, closing his eyes.
“Willie, you’ll be late for Hebrew school.”
“Let me rest a moment, Mama.” He opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. “Oy! I will be late for the show.” He kissed her faded photograph. “See you soon.”
Later costar Carol Spinney, wearing his Big Bird feet, wrapped his arm around Will. “I love you, Mr. Looper.”
Today Pegman ventures to the Balkans to spend some time in Bulgaria. Feel free to use the prompt to inspire you in any way you see fit, be it historical fiction, poetry, a personal narrative, fantasy or whatever you like. The only requirement is to keep your post to 150 words or less as a gesture of respect for your readers.
Today, thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson, I’ve learned another bit of WWII Jewish history I didn’t know.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 150
RIGHTEOUS AMONG NATIONS
My grandmother and I strolled beside the spring, arm in arm. We’d had a picnic, just the two of us, to celebrate her 80th birthday and my 13th.
“I wish my Papa could’ve been here to enjoy your Bar Mitzvah. He was a rabbi, you know.”
“I know, Nana.”
“So I’ve told you.”
With her intense dark eyes she could take you captive until she decided to let you go. I didn’t mind.
Tears trickled down her weathered cheeks. “They closed the Jewish schools. We wore yellow stars. March 9, 1943, my 13thth birthday. They rounded us up like cattle. We waited to be deported. It was inevitable. I would never see my beloved papa again. He held me and wept like a child. Then the miracle happened—”
“At the last minute Dimitar Peshev, the Vice President of the Bulgarian Parliament, got the order reversed.”
“So I’ve told you.”
From Wikipedia, After the war, the Communists brought forth charges on the Old Bulgarian Parliament for collaboration with the Germans. Peshev was tried for being both an anti-Semite and anti-Communist and was even accused of having been bribed by the Jews in exchange for halting the deportation.[2] However, his Jewish friends from the Kyustendil delegation, led by Joseph Nissim Yasharoff, testified on his behalf and saved him from a death sentence. He was sentenced to 15 years of imprisonment but was released after one year.
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.
This is a scene from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN, the third in my Havah Cohen Gitterman trilogy. By the third book, the characters have survived the hardships of Eastern European persecution. Many of them are dealing with what we know today as PTSD. This scene takes place in 1907 when little was known, much less addressed.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
AMNESIA
“All these years the only thing I remembered was her suicide. I’ve hated her for it,” Shayndel shuddered. “How could I forget why?”
“You were only five,” whispered Fruma Ya’el. “It’s understandable—”
Shayndel buried her head in her hands. “‘Jew bitch,’ they called her. ‘Get help!’ she begged me. But I couldn’t move. I—I watched as they—”
Protracted memories riddled Shayndel. “Bayla never spoke again—until the morning she…she climbed the tree in the yard to the highest branch. Naked. Great with child. She spread her arms, smiled at me and said,” Shayndel choked, “‘Goodbye, little sister.’”
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.
This lovely photo shows the moon rising over the trees as viewed from a ferry boat. What story does it tell you? Can you share it in 100 words or less?
“The year I turned 10,” he lay back in his hospital bed, staring at his bandaged hand, “my uncle invited me to the movie set. I’ll never forget it. There he was. The King. At that moment I knew what I wanted to be.”
“A rock star with a nasty temper?” The nurse adjusted his IV. “The morphine should kick in soon.”
His fingers throbbed. “The doc says I broke five bones and I might never play guitar again.”
The nurse’s eyes brimmed. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Petty.”
“Don’t be.” He murmured as he drifted off. “I won’t back down.”
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.
With its battered tin roof it looks like an old warehouse that has been abandoned. The windows aren’t broken and the concrete walls look rough. What story does this old shell of a building with its brick chimney tell you? Can you tell the rest of us in 100 words?
“Jinny was barely growed. 1914-1934” Her lower lip quivered as she traced the dates on the headstone with a frail finger. “She earned $17.50 a week painting them glow-in-the-dark clock numbers.”
Wind gusting across St. Columbus Cemetery chilled me. “Let’s get you home, Mrs. Abbot.”
“Not yet. I want you to see.” She seethed and brandished a Geiger counter probe over her sister’s grave. “Jinny took sick. Strange. Her jaws done crumbled. Died like the other girls at her factory. The doctors made lame excuses. Damned liars is what they was.” The machine sputtered. “That sound like Diphtheria to you?”
*
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It’s a long read, but if you want to know more of the story
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.
Because the time to work on the content to go with the artwork, I’m using Friday Fictioneers as a proving ground. My plan is take excerpts from the book continue to distill them into standalone flashes. This doesn’t mean all my stories will be book related, it just means that you might be seeing more of them.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
SACRED PROMISE
Although he had closed his shop for the day, Gavrel could not go back on his word to finish Reuven’s new shoes. He buffed them until they glowed in the lamplight.
Gavrel pulled off his young brother-in-law’s tattered shoes. “Just in time, my little apple. You’re growing so fast I’d better start your next pair tomorrow.”
A frown darkened Reuven’s ruddy face. “Papa, Lev says someday you’ll have a son of your own and won’t want me anymore.”
Heart racing, Gavrel crushed the boy against his chest. “If I have ten more sons, not one will ever take your place.
One of my favorite song quotes comes from the late John Lennon’s “Beautiful Boy.” “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” August was a busy month, but September has followed suit, leaving little time blog. I suppose better late than never applies.
Traditionally for the Fields of Belton, Missouri, the first two weeks of August is when Jan goes to Sturgis, SD for the annual bike rally. It’s also the time when the missus, ie me, has time to relax and hang around the house. However, this year, I didn’t spend nearly as much time relaxing as I’d expected.
Yours Truly with Diane Yates
The first weekend, I packed up the purple tent, books, and artwork. With my good friend Barbara I drove to Fayette, Missouri for the weekend to take part in the Fayette Arts Festival where we stayed with my co-author and friend Diane Yates. Although the weather was unseasonably cold and wet, we girls had a great time. We even sold a few books. 😉 With all of our husbands off and running, the three of us spent Saturday night watching a movie, sipping wine and gabbing into the wee hours.
One of the things I love about doing these signings is the people I meet. Drawn in by the artwork and my novels’ connection to my family, someone will tell me, often in great detail, about their own backgrounds. Great fun.
Wednesday, August 9th, my cousin Kent and I headed to midtown where I was scheduled to do an interview on ArtSpeak on local radio station KKFI, Kansas City’s answer to NPR. He took the picture below during the interview.
Here’s the podcast of that interview. Note: I wasn’t the only guest. You’ll find my slot at 27:39. Friday Fictioneers gets a nod as I read three flash fictions and told Maria how I stumbled into one of the best things I’ve ever done.
Following the interview, Kent and I spent the afternoon meandering around KC’s famous Country Club Plaza. We spent at least an hour in Barnes & Noble’s media room geeking out over DVD’s. We capped off the day by devouring our favorite barbecue at Snead’s BBQ, another Kansas City tradition.
Leawood Barnes & Noble book signing, August 12.
Truly, the crowning moments of the month happened in Branson at the Ozarks Writers League (OWL) conference which happens four times a year. I’ve been a part of and learned much from this generous group of writers for the past ten years. This year I had the opportunity to give back in leading a workshop entitled “Using Flash Fiction as a Writing Tool.” Two FFr’s, our own class clown, Russell Gayer and Cuzzin Kent Bonham served as my peanut gallery (for those who remember Howdy Doody).
A month ahead I sent out the photo prompt and challenged the OWLs to write a 100 word story, giving them a taste of Friday Fictioneers, using the same prompt we used that week on the blog challenge. As always, it’s entertaining to hear the different takes on the same photo. OWL president, Diane Yates and her husband Ricky both took part which was fun since the photo is that of their converted closet shower that he built with his own two hands.
August is the month of the OWL Annual Art Contest with three categories: 2 dimensional art, 3 dimensional and photography. Best in Show (not to be confused with the famous dog show) is awarded by the entry the judges consider the best of the 3 first place winners. I was pleased to learn that I won first and second place for 2 dimensional and the trophy. 😀
Since my husband Jan, my favorite roadie, cheerleader and wind beneath my wings, took the photos he isn’t in any of them.
Yours Truly took Best in Show in the OWL art contest.
Presenting Flash Fiction as a writing tool.
Class Clown
Russell voicing his surprise at being a part of the power point presentation.
Kent Bonham reading his entry.
Diane Yates reading her entry.
Of course I included my darling granddaughter in the presentation. Bubbie’s prerogative.
Workshop participant, Margarite Stevers.
Workshop participant, Jane Hale.
Winners of the annual OWL art contest.
Everyone received a certificate, suitable for framing.
Ricky Yates’ Masterpiece. The converted closet shower.
Russell in the flesh. What a treat to visit with him in person.
Ricky Yates giving the history of the shower and reading his entry.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 