8 September 2017

Published September 6, 2017 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 © Danny Bowman

Please be considerate and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

TO BOLDLY GO

Dora wreathed her arms around her son’s neck. “What’s in California? No mishpokhah—you’ll be a stranger in a strange land.”

“Like you were when you came to America, Mama.” The youth bristled with determination. “I won’t be an alien for long. You’ll see.”

Dora’s husband Max frowned. “You’re only eighteen. Forget this acting mishegoss.”

***

Leonard, now an old man, strolled along the West End’s changing streets remembering his mother’s tears as he boarded the train.

A passerby grinned, raised his hand, spreading his fingers, two to the left and two to the right. “Live long and prosper, Mr. Nimoy.”

*Mishpokha-Family

*

How did this tradition get started?

TREADING WATER

Published September 4, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Poisson-Blanc, Quebec, Canada.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

This week Karen posted the prompt early. And still I’m late. But that depends on your definition of late. 😉 On the other hand, the timing just might be deliberate. And…while my prompt is from Poisson-Blanc, my story veers far afield and very much about the water. Thanks as always to Karen Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for facilitating this prompt. Fun stuff. Love the extra words and a different challenge.

Genre: Historical Faction

Word Count: 150

TREADING WATER

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Mary knelt beside her dripping daughter. “There’ll be other swim meets.”

“But I told everybody I was going to win and I came in last.”

“It’s only your first race.” Richard swept the child into his arms. “You’re only six years old, baby. Someday you’ll have a mantel full of trophies.”

“Really, Daddy?”

“Or my name isn’t Dick Chadwick.”

Five years later, Florence Chadwick won the silver cup in a race across San Diego Bay, the first of many awards.

In the 1950’s she set her goggled sights on the English Channel, ultimately swimming it four times in both directions.

On September 4, 1953, she beat the women’s and men’s records, swimming from Dover to Wissant in 14 hours and 42 minutes.

On that same Friday, across the pond, in Kansas City, Missouri, Bob and Evalyne Wisoff greeted their own little 6 lb. white fish, Rochelle Elise.

In my happy place.

Florence Chadwick

1 September 2017

Published August 30, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Our Mantra

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 Bulltot

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

TOUR GUIDE AT ROOSEVELT ISLAND

Edith studied the yellowed photograph of a young mother cradling a toddler with dark curls on her lap. She had arrived at Castle Garden from Poland only to be diagnosed with the dreaded disease.

Surveying the overgrown, supposedly haunted ruins, Edith imagined her 19-year-old great-grandmother, stricken with smallpox and imprisoned behind the granite hospital walls.

“Left to die without her child. It must’ve been terrifying,” Edith whispered to the sobbing girl beside her. “But haunted? Nonsense.”

“Iz es itst, grandoter?”

Edith whipped around in time to see Great-Grandma Edith, pockmarked cheeks wet with tears, vanish like smoke through a keyhole.

CLICK

Note – The translation for the Yiddish is “Is it now, Granddaughter?”

ASLEEP IN THE LIGHT

Published August 26, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Flash fiction is a valuable training tool for all writers. It helps promote clarity and precision by forcing the writer to be succinct.

This week WHAT PEGMAN SAW travels to North Korea. Be very careful of what you say to whom you say it.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Many thanks for hosting this challenge to Karen Rawson and and J Hardy Carroll .

For this week’s challenge I revisited a Friday Fictioneers piece I posted two years ago, added 50 words and gave it a new title.

Genre: Realistic, Historical and All-Too-Current Fiction

Word Count: 150

ASLEEP IN THE LIGHT

At thirteen Myung Hee was three years older than the rest of my students. Despite my many scoldings, they laughed at her and called her babo.

One day I found her weeping in the schoolyard.

“What’s wrong, gongjunim?”

“I’m not princess.” A single tear trickled down her cheek. “I feel sorry for these children. They are not understand. In time a heart beats this light can be snatched from them.”

I tried to hug her but she pulled back. Her swollen eyes, old beyond their years, pierced my heart.

“My baby brother and I escaped Kim Jong-il’s prison camp, but two days later I buried him in the desert with only the stars to see. I thought South Korea would be the center of my dreams, but they lie with my brother in darkness.”

Myung Hee’s words resonated deep within me and, in that moment, the teacher became the student.

BEDTIME STORY

Published August 19, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Wroclaw, Poland

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Note that there is both streetview and photospheres at this location.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

For some reason, I’m not getting my Pegman notification in my inbox. So I had to go looking for it. 😉 Good job J Hardy and K Rawson. Now you know I’m hooked. Not to mention that I’m typing this in a moving car on the way back from a writers conference in Branson, MO.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

BEDTIME STORY

“The Cossacks came to Poland to recruit soldiers into the Russian army.” Rhoda’s grandfather’s faded eyes filled. “Soldiers? Feh! It’s 1903. I am fourteen and live with my sister and her husband. She hides me under a pile of soiled diapers and bedding. Oy, the shtink. When the Cossacks leave, she kisses me and shoves me out the back door. ‘Go,’ she says. ‘to America.’”

Questions stuck in Rhoda’s throat like cold oatmeal. “You came by yourself?”

“Like an animal in the ship’s steerage level. Nu? It’s better than serving 40 years as a Jew in the Czar’s army.”

“How did you survive?”

“To see dis shriveled old man now you would not know what a clever boy he was. You live on the street, you learn quick.”

Rhoda hugged her pillow to her chest. “You must’ve had gobs of adventures!”

Zaydeh pinched her cheek. “Stories for another time, yes?”

18 August 2017

Published August 16, 2017 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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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A little teaser this week from my second novel FROM SILT AND ASHES

Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1904

Word Count: 100

LACK OF VISION

“I’ve been reading.” Arel peered over his newspaper at seven-month old Rachel in her highchair. “There are places for people like her.”

“She’s a person.” Havah seized the paper and ripped it in half.

“In one of those schools she can be with other persons who are…” he lowered his voice, “…blind.”

Choking on her anger, Havah hobbled to their bedroom where she hauled a suitcase from the closet. After stuffing it with his clothes, she shoved it down the stairs.

“Havah, listen to reason.”

“I will when I hear it. Come back when you decide to be a father!”

Original Artwork – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Havah Cohen Gitterman -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

THE FINAL SOLUTION

Published August 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Pena, Portugal.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Note that there is both streetview and photospheres at this location.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

A view of Pena National Palace – Welcome to Portugal

If you think you’re seeing double, you are. 😉 I’m double dipping this week. The following is also an expanded Friday Fictioneers story I posted two years ago. When I saw Pegman in Portugal, I decided this one fit. When I saw that some of the commentors from that time are now participating in Pegman I decided to post update and earlier piece. By the afternoon I decided to post this one, too. It’s as old as time and as current as today’s newscast. 😦

Shalom,

Rochelle

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE FINAL SOLUTION

“These madmen rob us of everything we’ve worked so hard for—our tapestries, jewelry and, even our furniture.” Leah fingered the yellow badge sewn on her cape. “If that’s not enough, they brand us like cattle and you do nothing.”

“What can I do?” Abraham rubbed a painful lump on the back of his head. “One taste of Jewish blood sends them into frenzy, like rabid dogs. Finish packing. We set sail in the morning while we still can.”

Leah held a golden bracelet to her breast. “They cannot have this. It belonged to my grandmother, may her memory be blessed.”

Abraham’s heart thrashed against his ribs. “Leave it! What’s a bauble when our people are being exterminated like cockroaches?”

The bracelet fell from her fingers and she collapsed into his arms. “España is our home.”

“Querida, you are my home. 1493 in Portugal—it will be a better year.”

There’s nothing new under the sun.

THE JUMPING FLEA

Published August 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Pena, Portugal.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Note that there is both streetview and photospheres at this location.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson for hosting this unique challenge and for giving me an extra 50 words to play with each week.

This week I brought back one that I posted three years ago in Friday Fictioneers and added 50 words to it. I enjoyed the rewrite, I hope you enjoy the reread. 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE JUMPING FLEA

“Better to harvest the sugarcane fields in Hawaii than starve in Madeira,” João Fernandes told his reluctant wife. “You’ll see, we will have a better life there.”

“Portugal is home. Português is the only language we speak.”

“We’ll build a new home and learn a new language.”

During the monotonous, sometimes perilous, four months at sea she spent most of her time retching over the side of the ship. He, on the other hand, entertained his fellow immigrants on the braguinha.

____

Enamored with the new music form and João’s lively style, the Hawaiians treated him and his little guitar like royalty. Even Queen Lili’uokalani requested private evening concerts.

One lonely night, homesick for her mountains, Senhora Fernandes waited up for him.

At long last, he burst through the door. “Behold the queen’s favorite musician!”

She seized his ukulele and smashed it to pieces over his head. “Behold your instrument!”

***

For your listening pleasure. It’s kind of long but, if you have an extra 6 minutes to spare. This is no tiptoe through the tulips.

11 August 2017

Published August 9, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Our Mantra

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.

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FORWARD PASS

On an early November morning in 1909, Charles Stewart walked the deserted Kansas City cross-streets of Locust and Eighth. Weary after his team’s defeat, he reached his hotel. Throat raw, loyal fan that he was, he entered his enclosed hallway and cut loose.

“Rock chalk Jayhawk…!”

The next day, expecting the usual chastisement for his rowdy behavior, he met instead with cheers from other guests proclaiming him a hero.

Mr. Blank slapped the bewildered youth’s back. “Had it not been for your caterwauling, a burglar and his buddy would’ve robbed us all blind. You scared the bejabbers out of them.”

*Originally the cheer was created for KU’s (Kansas University in Lawrence, Kansas) science club by chemistry professor E. H. Bailey in 1886. Former President Theodore Roosevelt proclaimed it the greatest college chant of all time. Give a listen to what some have referred to as chilling. 😉

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PEDIGREE

Published July 31, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Cape Town, South Africa.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Once more I’m late to the party. Many thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this prompt.

Although I chose a photo from Cape Town, I traveled far afield. The architecture puts me in mind of the old part of Charleston, SC. So I took a story I wrote for Friday Fictioneers a couple of years ago and, as Karen graciously put it, breathed new life into it. At the same time, when South Africa comes to mind, I think of Apartheid. So there’s kind of connection…right? That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

PEDIGREE

I adored our handsome houseboy “Black-Jack.” Mama had a special smile just for him. Nobody told a better story. Sarah and I shared his lap, laughing and crying by turns.

One night I kissed his bronze cheek. “I wish you were my daddy, too.”

“So does I, my sweet li’l magnolia.”

When Sarah and I turned eight, Grandma sold him.

Mama swooned. I dried Sarah’s tears with my lace petticoat.

“Stop that, Emma.” Grandma snapped. “She’s your slave.”

“No! She’s my best friend. My sister.”

“Never!”

I still feel the sting of Grandma’s hand across my lips.

A month later the old biddy sold Sarah.

On my seventeenth birthday I was married off to a plantation owner near Charleston.

This morning I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who bears no resemblance to either her blond father or me. In fact, she’s the spitting image of her Aunt Sarah.

Real life twins.