Character Study – Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor

Published March 6, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Felds

“Now, where was I? Your education…Frederic Chopin.” Ulrich cleared his throat and poised his hands over the keys. “He was one of the world’s greatest composers. His life was short but his influence great. Nocturne in C-sharp Minor was my Valerica’s favorite. Her life was also short. She said this piece took her to far off places. Close your eyes and see where it takes you.”

From the first resounding chords a flood of emotion flowed through Havah like a river current. In a moment she was both callow child, alive with anticipation, and wizened matron, bone weary and full of years. Her mother’s voice lulled and comforted her with a song about raisins and almonds. She saw her father’s face, half illuminated by candle flame as he poured over volume after volume of Talmud. Arel approached from the shadows, tall and thin. His gray eyes devoured her. His tender lips kissed her.

~~From Please Say Kaddish for Me

Valerica Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Frederic Chopin’s Nocturne in C Sharp Minor soothed Havah’s jangled nerves. The ivory keys were smooth and comforting under her fingertips. Although she would never be a pianist of Ulrich’s caliber she played well enough to entertain an audience of one. Closing her eyes, she relished a soft breeze carrying the scents of daffodil and hyacinth through the open window.

Havah Cohen Gitterman

~~From From Silt and Ashes

Arel Gitterman – Original Artwork – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Letting the strains of Chopin’s Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor waft over her, Shayndel sat in the rocking chair beside the piano with Tikvah asleep on her lap. While Shayndel did not know many musical pieces by name like her sister-in-law she could always recognize this one. When Havah was sad or in pain this would be the piece she chose to play.

~~From As One Must, One Can (2016)

Shayndel Abromovich-Original artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

While not a person or an animal, a piece of classical music becomes something of a friend and companion to Havah. Chopin’s Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor comforts her when reality becomes too much to handle.

I fell in love with this piece and Chopin’s music when I saw the movie The Pianist. It’s haunting, ethereal beauty transports this author to other places so it seemed only natural it would do the same for Havah.

Unlike the author, Havah has latent musical talent that Ulrich is only too happy to nurture. While he tries to steer her to something simpler for a beginner, she is determined to learn how to play the nocturne.

I hope you’ll take the time to not only read my excerpts but also to enjoy the music.

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26 February 2016

Published February 24, 2016 by rochellewisoff

The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.

Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Al Forbes

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Due to schedule, travel and novel writing, my ‘story’ this week is a paragraph from the third novel (in progress) in my trilogy As One Must, One Can, which is due out this year. It’s not a complete story. Thank you for understanding.

Genre: Historical Fiction

(the year is 1907)

Word Count: 98

AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN – EXCERPT

In Kansas City motor cars were rapidly replacing the horse and buggy. Automobiles went faster and did not eat their weight in hay and oats. Even so, Nikolai preferred the clip-clop of horses’ hooves on pavement to the grinding noises and choking exhaust fumes of modern transportation. It did not matter for he could afford neither car nor carriage. If he could, walking, even in winter, would always be his preferred mode of travel for physical stamina. Tucking his head, he pulled his hat down and his coat collar up to shield his ears from the frigid wind.

Nikolai Derevenko – Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sunday, I had the pleasure of being interviewed by David Clarke of Blog Talk Radio. The interview is an hour long so you might want to come back to it. 😉

To hear, click here.

An extra special ‘thank you’ to Amy Reese! Click the link to read her stunning review of Please Say Kaddish for Me.

Character Study – Mendel and David Cohen

Published February 8, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Although Havah’s older brothers, Mendel and David Cohen, perished at the beginning of Please Say Kaddish for Me, they are ever alive in her heart. Two very different personalities, Havah adored them both. Her memories of them are a constant thread throughout Please Say Kaddish for Me, From Silt and Ashes, and the imminent third novel in the trilogy, As One Must One Can.

Her eldest brother, Mendel, eight years her senior, wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps as a rabbi.

***

By the tender age of twelve, Havah had developed the attributes of a young woman. Despite her disappointed protests, her father agreed with her teacher that her Heder education should come to an end. The boys would never learn Holy writ with such a comely distraction.

Her brother Mendel became her lamed, her teacher. While she missed her classmates’ challenges, she enjoyed mornings with Mendel and flourished under his tutelage. A strict teacher, he never allowed her any leeway because of her gender or kinship.

~~Taken from From Silt and Ashes

***

David, who was two years younger than Mendel, was a gifted artist. In Please Say Kaddish for Me, Havah tells Shayndel that he could paint a flower so real that you would swear you could smell its fragrance.

David was the mischievous brother who mercilessly teased his little sister. She regrets that shortly before his murder, they had quarreled.

***

With a suppressed sigh she covered the braided loaves with clean towels and set them on the back of the stove to rise. “The last time I baked Hollah, I couldn’t put raisins in it because my brother David ate all of them. I wish I hadn’t gotten so mad. I said horrid things.”

“Were they the last words you spoke to him?” Fruma Ya’el unfolded a linen tablecloth, snapping it so it billowed and dropped to cover the table.

“No.” Gathering the bowls and utensils, Havah hobbled to the sink. “I can still see him with Mama’s clean dish towel over his head, walking bent over. He sang all raspy like an old lady, too. ‘Little Bubbe Fuss Bucket. All astir over a raisin. A raisin. A shriveled little raisin. Oy, yoy, yoy.’”

She took a kettle of hot water from the stove and poured it over the dishes. “I could never stay mad at him. If only I’d known—”

Gittel grabbed a dish towel. “Would you have done anything differently?”

A soap bubble floated up from the water. Havah popped it with her finger. “No.”

~~Taken from Please Say Kaddish for Me

***

Each night of Hanukkah, Havah and her brothers took turns lighting the candles. Papa led the recitation of the blessings. To this day, when she heard distant thunder Havah swore it was Papa’s resonant voice chanting prayers in heaven.

One year, her brother David, then twelve, ate so many macaroons he spent half the night in the outhouse. The next morning, fourteen-year-old Mendel, always the teacher, seized the opportunity to expound on the evils of gluttony. David’s green-tinged cheeks flushed while six-year-old Havah giggled into her napkin.

~~Taken from As One Must One Can (2016)

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

***

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Check out my author page on the Loiacono Website. For all of the character studies thus far, click on the link Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Art and Blogs or my website RochelleWordArt.

29 January 2016

Published January 27, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Please include the PHOTO PROMPT with your story. All photos are copyrighted and may not be used outside of Friday Fictioneers without express permission and possible remuneration to the owner. Please be courteous and give credit where credit is due.

The challenge is 100 WORDS OR LESS. It’s a worthwhile challenge that teaches us as writers how to conserve and use the strongest words to tell our stories. With the number of submissions every week, this is not only a great challenge but also a consideration to other readers.

The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Study it. Think about it. What kind of story does it tell you? Think outside the box.

Thank you and Shalom,

Your Fairy Blog Mother, Rochelle

PHOTO PROMPT – © ceayr

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 99

SHOAH

“Where’s Nadine?” I stamped my foot with childish impatience.

“The Juif doesn’t live here anymore.” The man hissed through pinched lips.

“Because of the Bosche?”

“No more questions.” The door slammed and he shouted from the other side. “Go away!”

________

Seventy years later sunlight flickers on ocean waves at Saint-Marc. I walk along the deserted beach where Nadine and I gathered seashells and dreams.

“Martine, swim with me.”

Shielding my eyes, I search the rippling waters. Nadine beckons. I’m warmed by her smile…and the twelve-year-old girl who choked her last in Auschwitz’s Zyklon-B showers lives forever in my heart.

.

**Note: Today as I post my story it is 27 January. The United Nations designated January 27—the anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau—as International Holocaust Remembrance Day. A time to remember and say “Never again!”

.

To learn more about Nadine click here.

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Character Study – Rabbi Shimon and Miriam Cohen

Published January 24, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Out of the corner of her eye she [Havah] saw her mother creep through the doorway and inch toward the bed with a wooden rolling pin high over her head. She slammed it down on the back of the man’s head. With a sudden jerk and a grunt he released Havah. He rolled off her and fell to the floor unconscious.

She sat up, clutching a pillow and stared down at him. Blood pooled under his head and seeped into the cracks between the floor boards. This had to be a dream. In the morning Papa would wink at her over breakfast and assure her it had all been a horrendous nightmare.

Her mother yanked her hand, dragged her from the bed and held her for a moment, her tears hot on Havah’s neck.

“Hurry, Havah. May the God of Israel go with you.” Taking Havah’s face between her hands her mother kissed her forehead.

“But Mama—”

Tugging Havah’s arm, her mother dragged her to the back door of the house and shoved her out. “No arguing. Go!”

Heart thumping, she ran. Thick smoke stung her eyes and burned her throat. She stopped and turned to look one last time. The blazing synagogue crumbled to the ground.

“No, Havah, don’t look back!”

~~Taken from Please Say Kaddish for Me by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Heder teacher’s face turned crimson. He narrowed his eyes and glared at five-year-old Havah as if she were a piglet about to be dumped on his doorstep. Then he clenched his tobacco-stained teeth and spat a brown glob on the doorstep.

Up until this moment she had been excited to learn to read the Torah, the words that came from Adoshem’s own mouth. Huddled against Papa’s shoulder she hid her eyes in his coat folds.

“You can’t be serious, Rabbi Shimon. She’s a girl.”

“So she is.” Papa’s arm tightened around her. “My daughter’s mind is every whit as keen as her brother Mendel’s.”

“To be certain she’s a bright one, and one day she’ll be a most excellent wife and mother. Perhaps she’ll even marry a rabbi herself but, Rebbe, to come to Heder with boys? It’s not right.”

“Where does the Torah say it’s wrong for a girl to learn?”

“Rabbi Ben Hyrcanus clearly stated in the Talmud that to teach a daughter Torah is tiflut, obscenity. And did he not also say that the words of the Torah should be burned rather than be entrusted to a woman? Rabbi, you of all people should know this.”

“As far as I’m concerned it’s opinion and rubbish! Didn’t the prophet Yo’el write ‘your sons and daughters shall prophecy’? Miriam and Deborah—were they not judges in Israel?”

“You win, Rebbe.”

“I always do.”

~~Taken from From Silt and Ashes by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Until the pogrom that took them from her, Havah’s parents, Rabbi Shimon and Miriam Cohen were the two most important people her life.

Not one to be bound by law and traditions, Rabbi Cohen relied more on Torah than Midrash, the rabbinic commentaries. When questioned, he was quick to argue that the former was the irrefutable word of God while the latter was merely opinion and conjecture. He encouraged his daughter and his wife, if they so desired, to study the Holy Word.

Miriam was a gentle and loving wife who kept a clean, Kosher home. She considered her greatest treasures to be her husband, her two sons and her daughter.

Havah adored her parents and her memories of them are a constant thread throughout the series. Even though she was only sixteen when they died, their words of wisdom are always there to guide her.

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22 January 2016

Published January 20, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Quite a few fictioneers took liberties with the word count last week. Remember, the challenge is a hundred words or less. Please take into consideration that our numbers are growing and there are more stories to read. Thank you.

The following photo is the PROMPT and comes from my own hubby.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan W. Fields

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE SIN IN SYNCOPATION

“I ain’t got no money for no music lessons, Professor Weiss.”

“Turn left and do the cake walk prance…”

“Your boy has a rare gift.”

“…Turn the other way…”

“I got five mouths to feed ‘sides his.”

“…do the slow drag…”

“No charge.”

“…take your lady to the world’s fair.”

“Come away with me, my love.”

“Is it really you, Chrysanthemum? But you’re—dead. Does that mean…?”

“…and do the ragtime dance.”

“Yes.”

_________

“Poor demented fella. Looks like he tried to play the piano…” The doctor released Scott Joplin’s stiff, distorted hands from the restraints. “…and sang his life away.”

****

Note: Scott Joplin, known as the King of Ragtime, died in Manhattan State Hospital, 1 April 1917 in the final stages of syphilis induced dementia.

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Freddie Alexander Joplin, the woman for whom The Chrysanthemum was written.

Scott Joplin

Character Study – Valerica Dietrich

Published January 15, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Although she [Havah] had dusted it many times, a faded photograph in a silver frame caught her attention. A woman with pale curls around her face smiled at her from under a lace bridal veil. She lifted the picture from the table beside the piano.

“What was she like?”

“My Valerica.” He took the picture from her. Then, holding it to his chest, he propped an elbow on the piano and rested his head on his hand. “Kolyah introduced us.”

“Dr. Nikolai?”

“She was his wife’s best friend. Do you believe in love at first sight, Havah?”

Not waiting for an answer, he continued. His spirit seemed to travel to a distant time and place. Tears shimmered in his eyes. “Valerica Dietrich. She was always the picture of fashion. But, if you ask me, she could’ve worn flour sacks and still have turned heads.

~~From Please Say Kaddish for Me

“Have you heard from your professor?”

“I got a letter this morning.” Havah took an envelope from her pocket. “How is he?”

“He’s so lonesome. Oh, he doesn’t say so, but I can tell by the way he talks about his wife and how much he misses her. She’s been gone thirteen years. It’s a pity he never remarried.”

~~From From Silt and Ashes

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

It was for his Romanian wife, Valerica that Ulrich moved to Kishinev, Moldova. Her death in childbirth dealt him a terrible blow from which he has never recovered. In Please Say Kaddish for Me, to keep her memory alive, Ulrich still has all of her belongings and refuses to sell the house they shared.

However, after experiencing anti-Semitic oppression and the carnage of the pogrom, he can no longer bear to remain in Kishinev.

As From Silt and Ashes opens he has sold the house and moved to London where he teaches at the Royal Academy of Music. Valerica’s wedding photo is ever by his piano for, as he’s told Havah, “She had music in her eyes.”

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Check out my author page on the Loiacono Website. For all of the character studies thus far, click on the link Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Art and Blogs or my website RochelleWordArt.

Character Study – Jeffrey and Evalyne Tulschinsky

Published January 8, 2016 by rochellewisoff

“Mama, Jeffrey took my doll and hid it. Make him tell me where it is!”

“Tattletale!”

Frustrated by her children’s constant bickering, Sarah Tulschinsky stood and hurled her sewing basket to the floor. “Can’t you two play nice? Don’t you know how good you have it?”

Eyes wide, twins Jeffrey and Evalyne backed away from her. Sarah wished she could take back her harsh words. She had always made it a point never to raise her voice to them. After all they were only four. How could she expect them to understand?

While they were outside playing tag and climbing trees, the postman delivered a letter from Arel that had been lost for almost two months. His detailed account tore her heart into pieces.

Before she could explain to her son and daughter what had happened to those poor children in Kishinev, the front door opened. Wolf stepped over the threshold. Evalyne and Jeffrey raced to him. He scooped them up, one on each arm and spun them around.

“Papa, the lights comed back on today and we gots water, too!” Evalyne always had to be the first to share whatever she knew.

~~Taken from Please Say Kaddish for Me

________________

“Do you miss those boys and girls in Kishinev, Auntie?” Evalyne’s round eyes, brimming with curiosity, seemed to pop out of her slender face.

“Would you miss your nose if it fell off?” asked Havah.

Sarah held her finger to her lips. “Evie, you’ll wear Auntie out with your questions.” “How else will she learn? She can never ask me too many questions.”

~~Taken from From Silt and Ashes

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

Evalyne and Jeffrey Tulschinsky are Sarah and Wolf’s twin children. In the excerpt from Please Say Kaddish for Me they are five years old when Sarah receives a lost letter from Arel telling her about the Kishinev pogrom.

The excerpt from From Silt and Ashes takes place a few months later, after Arel and Havah have settled in Kansas City.

Evalyne is the more outgoing of the two children. Although Havah loves both children, she is drawn to the precocious little girl who is constantly asking questions.

Evalyne (author’s mother) and Norman Weiner on their 15th birthday.

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Check out my author page on the Loiacono Website. For all of the character studies thus far, click on the link Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Art and Blogs or my website RochelleWordArt.

Character Study – Wolf Tulschinsky

Published January 3, 2016 by rochellewisoff

After one last draw on his pipe, Wolf emptied it into an ashtray on the end table. He leaned back on the sofa and stretched his lanky arms over his head and his long legs out in front of him.

“Public school is a wonderful thing,” he said. “The twins will learn to read and write like American children. There’s talk at the synagogue of starting a Talmud Torah class as well. It will be like heder in the old country, so Jeffrey will learn Hebrew, too.”

“What about me?” Evalyne sat up straight.

“Talmud Torah classes are for boys, sweetheart.”

“Auntie Havah reads the Torah in Hebrew, doesn’t she?” Evalyne stuck out her lower lip.

“Yes, I do. Is this not America? Why shouldn’t Evie know what her brother does?”

Havah rose and arched her back in an attempt to find some relief.

“Are you saying we should be without tradition like the gentiles?” asked Wolf with a growl in his voice as he stood.

“I’m saying, our traditions should include women and girls.”

“Then your tradition contradicts Talmud!”

“My papa used to say the Talmud is just a bunch of rabbinic opinions.”

“They’re damn good ones at that, and I’ll thank you to keep your ideas to yourself where my daughter’s concerned.”

~~Taken From From Silt and Ashes by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

Wolf Tulschinsky is a self-made man. He met and fell in love with Sarah Gitterman on the way to America. Together they’ve forged a good life for themselves and their twins, Jeffrey and Evalyne. He’s a good husband and a loving father. While Wolf prides himself on his trade as a tailor and a modern American, his ideas concerning Jewish tradition are very much old world. Although it’s clear in both Please Say Kaddish for Me and From Silt and Ashes he admires Havah’s courage and strength, he disagrees with her radical stance on women and education.

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Check out my author page on the Loiacono Website. For all of the character studies thus far, click on the link Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Art and Blogs or my website RochelleWordArt.

25 December 2015

Published December 23, 2015 by rochellewisoff

FRIDAY FICTION CONCRIT SUBGROUP

If you want to be part of this group click the link above and follow the rules set forth by Jennifer Pendergast, the leader of this subgroup. No one is under obligation to participate nor is it necessary to dig something up to criticize for the sake of critique. Please keep it polite and friendly.

This week’s prompt is a rerun. We will be out of town visiting family this week so please forgive me for very slow or nonexistent response time. I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday. If you’ve already written a story for this prompt as a few have, feel free to enjoy the respite. Look for next week’s prompt to be a retread as well. Thanks to each and every one of you who participate. I can’t begin to tell you what this group means to me.

Shalom,

Rochelle

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 97

Here’s the original Post

FINAL DECLARATION

Like the anguished images that flashed across our television, Friday, November 22, 1963 will ever be etched into my memory in black and white.

Walter Cronkite wept on camera.

The nation mourned.

Dazed, Mom sorted Christmas ornaments at the kitchen table and mumbled empty phrases. Dad dropped to his knees, laid his head in her lap and sobbed.

“He was my hero!” I screamed.

My eleven-year-old world spun out and I kicked at the two faceless uniforms.

Their vacuous condolences pelted me like the bullets that killed my big brother in Vietnam.

***************

I’ll never forgive Mr. Kennedy.

I was in 5th grade the day Kennedy was assassinated. We had just come in from recess when the teacher greeted us with “The president’s been shot.’ and flipped on the TV. What a cold and hollow weekend followed as we all crowded around the television and wondered who would do such a horrible thing. I don’t mean to spark a controversy but the fact is that President Kennedy did send advisers to Vietnam and he did get us into the war.

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