19 December 2025

Published December 17, 2025 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 © Peter Abbey

This week’s photo is of silouhetted figures on the beach and in the water. The sun is reflecting off the water. There are whispy clouds overhead.

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Genre: Fiction with a lot of Fact
Word Count: 100

The first day of Hanukkah began with shots and wailing heard around the world.

LIGHT ONE CANDLE

“Hurry up, Milka!” said Eli. “We’re going miss the candle lighting on the beach. And it’s our first holiday in Australia.”

Ten-year-old Milka moaned, “I don’t feel so great.”

Noticing her daughter’s flushed cheeks, Naomi felt her forehead. “You’re burning up. No party for us.”

Reciting a prayer for the sick, Eli and Naomi tucked Milka into bed. Naomi’s cell phone rang.

“Hag Samayakh, Mom. How are things in New York?”

Mom’s voice was tinged with panic. “Please, tell me you’re safe!”

“Milka’s sick, but other than that…”

“You’re home, then?”

“Yes. Why?”

“HaShem be praised. Turn on the news.”

12 December 2025

Published December 10, 2025 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 © Dale Rogerson

In this week’s prompt we are in an alleyway between two stone walls. Lights are strung across the arched entry. There are picnic tables and a bench.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

HANUKKAH IN WESTERBROOK

“Aviva,” said Bubbie, “what are the letters on the dreidel?”

“Noon, Gimmel, Hey, Shin,” I replied. (נ,ג,ה,ש)

“What do they stand for?”

“Nes Gadol Hayah Sham. A great miracle happened there.”

“What miracle?”

“When there was only enough oil to keep the ancient Temple Menorah lit for one day and it burned for eight.”

Bubbie brushed a tear from her withered cheek. I knew where her mind had gone.

“We were young and brave.” She shrugged. “Or maybe just foolish. Leo lit the candles on the menorah. The light gave us hope in a very dark place. A great miracle indeed.”

*Hebrew letters read from right to left.

Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate. © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

5 December 2025

Published December 3, 2025 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

The photo shows a small grocery store with rows of jars and some decorations. In the background are some refrigerator cases. To the left are to square tables with folding chairs.

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Genre: Memoir
Word Count: 100

TURKISH DELIGHT

Shelves lined with souvenirs and jarred delicacies; Mediterranean Market didn’t look like much. However, the smoky baba ghanoush and succulent kabobs more than compensated for the lack of ambience.

My cousin Kent and I enjoyed long lunches and chatting with the Turkish co-owners.

“I miss the mountains,” Jihan would say with a faraway gaze, “and my mother.”

Sinan, the more gregarious brother, with black hair curling below his ears and huge eyes that didn’t quite go the same direction, would ask me, “You like the food?”

“The best.”

He would grin and giggle. “When the womens is heppy, everybody’s heppy.”

This is a true story. I only wish I’d gotten pictures of the Sinan and J’han. I really miss this little market where Kent and I spent a lot of time writing together.

28 November 2025

Published November 26, 2025 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 © Roger Bultot

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This Friday, November 28, Jan and I will celebrate our 54th Wedding Anniversary so I took the easy route and wrote a little reflection.

Genre: Anecdote
Word Count: 100

DESTINY

The saying goes that hindsight is 20/20. In other words, if I’d only known then what I know now, would I tell the eighteen-year-old child bride to run?

And what if she’d listened?

Perhaps she would have married someone else—someone without the same rough edges—or fierce loyalty.

Would she trade three handsome sons for what might have been?

Silly questions change nothing.

I’m thankful for my children and the man I married fifty-four years ago. His smile warms my heart more now than it did when I walked down the aisle to him. Two became one. My destiny.

21 November 2025

Published November 19, 2025 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 © Sandra Crook

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

JULY 10, 1945

Teresa Fletcher breathed in the aroma of apple pie. “Do you think they’ll like my fried chicken?”

“Considering the slop they’ve probably had to eat; your cooking will seem like fine dining.” Bob grinned.

She beamed at her new husband with pride. For three years he’d taken care of Al and Mary’s farm ignoring slurs, threats, and even attacks from the townspeople.

When the Tsukamotos entered, Teresa opened her arms wide and cried, “Welcome home!”

“Our house looks better than when we left!” Mary hugged the newlyweds. “Why’d you do this for us?”

Bob shrugged. “It was the right thing.”

Mary and daughter Marielle Tsukamoto

It’s a lot to read but to know more CLICK HERE

7 November 2025

Published November 5, 2025 by rochellewisoff

(We still have a frog, but he’s not necessarily blue. 😉 )

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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 ©Yvette Prior

The photo is of a window with an open Venetian blind. Through it we see the front of a yellow house with white trim. Beside the windw is the edge of a Christmas tree with lights.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

LEGALLY BLACK

Gazing out the window, she pondered the studio executive’s suggestion. “Fredi, you could easily pass for French and become a Hollywood star.”

“What happens if I’m found out?”

Despite her green eyes and pale skin, Fredi Washington remained true to her heritage. Was it her fault ignorant white audiences swallowed the notion of black inferiority hook, line and stinker?

Black actors should not have to stoop to stereotypical portrayals of shuffling servants. Clenching her teeth, Fredi folded her arms.

Turn her back? Pass?

“No. I’m a mighty proud gal. Why should I have to pass for anything but an artist?”

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31 October 2025

Published October 29, 2025 by rochellewisoff

RIP Trent McDonald, former Friday Fictioneer.
Click Link above to read his Obituary

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

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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 © Dale Rogerson

Against a backdrop of trees or bushes is a row of potted plants, plastic buckets and discarded pans. To the far left is a red easel with a picture on it. The easel is falling over backward.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

VIEWPOINT

“Look at me!” Jarvis flexed his muscles in front of the mirror. “Strong and healthy like the President.”

Jarvis had it all—athletic and intellectual prowess—while Norman struggled with basic reading and Math. Algebra with its x’s and y’s eluded him.

Watching his older brother, Norman sighed. He’d heard the stories of President Teddy Roosevelt exercising his way to robust health after being a sickly child.

He glared at his own gangly reflection. “I’ll never be an athlete.”

Picking up one of Norman’s sketches, Jarvis shook his head. “And I’ll never be the artist you are, Mr. Norman Rockwell.”

This is an artist…illustrator, whatever you deam the correct title…I’ve always looked up to. He was amazing!

24 October 2025

Published October 22, 2025 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.

This week’s photo is of a city street at night. The buildings are well lit. It’s raining. Headlights reflect on the wet pavement. There are people walking along the sidewalk.

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Genre: Histrionic Faction
Word Count: 100

INTO EVERY LIFE A LITTLE RAIN MUST FALL

It seems that my poor 2011 Chevy Cruz has seen more than its fair share of downpours such as a deer on a suicide mission and a few other fender benders. We’ve replaced the heater, the clutch and, currently she’s in the shop for more pricey repairs. Yet I cling tenaciously to her. She’s paid off, after all.

Last week when I took the car into the shop the wide-eyed mechanic looked at me like I had flown a spaceship into his garage. He gasped, “It’s a stick-shift.”

“Yes, Captain Obvious, it’s my millennial anti-theft device. Please, just fix it.”

17 October 2025

Published October 15, 2025 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.

The photo prompt this week is of a forest/park. There is a picnic table to the right in the background. The tree in the foreground has an unusual rounded branch on the right side of the trunk that arches almost to the top.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

TAKE ME UNDER YOUR WING

“Run, Havah!”

The sound of her mother’s last scream filled Havah’s head and pounded in rhythm to her footsteps. Beech trees loomed in the forest ahead; their gnarled roots circled above the ground like dancers at a wedding feast. They whispered somber melodies.

Rocks, frozen grass and thorns stabbed the soles of her bare feet. There had been no time for shoes, no time to dress.

Who would pray for their souls?

She forced her heavy mouth to shape the Hebrew prayer— Kaddish—prayer for the dead and prayer for the bereft. “‘Magnified and sanctified is your great Name …’”

The excerpt I shared this week is from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. It’s available on Amazon. More about my books HERE

10 October 2025

Published October 8, 2025 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.

The photo this week is of the inside of an elaborate synagoge. The walls are around the holy ark where the the Torah scrolls are stored, are inlade with tile. The arched window over is stained glass adorned with the ten commandments in Hebrew. In the foreground are steps leading up to the bima or platform. There is a colorful bouquet in the middle on the steps.

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Genre: Anectdote
Word Count: 100

THE TIMES THEY ARE A-CHANGING

I’d just celebrated my thirty-first birthday when my father sank down onto his sofa to take his eternal nap. Though not a surprise, it was still a shock.

By Jewish tradition the burial should take place within twenty-four hours. This wasn’t possible for my family.

The young rabbi asked if I had a problem with her being a woman. Her warm demeanor put me at ease.

“Dad’s middle name was Edward after Dr. Edwards who brought him into the world in 1914 when female physicians were frowned upon.” I smiled. “It’s only fitting that a woman should oversee his sendoff.”