Internet Footprint

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25 August 2017

Published August 23, 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© Jan Wayne Fields

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE FINAL FRONTIER

            “History in the making.” Keela’s upturned eyes glittered in the starlight. “Can you believe they’ve actually sent an astronaut to the moon?”  

            Jono ached with love for her and their unborn child. “Maybe one day he’ll go camping like this with his offspring. Only on some distant world.”  

            “Do you suppose there’s life on other planets?”

            “Doubt it.”

            She pressed one hand against her stomach, seized his wrist with the other and gasped. “It’s time. Listen.”

            A crunching sound followed by a high-pitched shriek emanated from inside the tent.

            Jono’s hearts leaped.

            Keela’s antennae quivered. “Our hatchling’s here at last.” 

*

*

*

  

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?”

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.

11 August 2017

Published August 9, 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© CEAyr

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

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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. 😉 

Click HERE to check out my new page. 

4 August 2017

Published August 2, 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 © Dale Rogerson

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

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

PERSPECTIVE

            Linda sat at Bridgette’s kitchen table and pointed at two floral arrangements. “Who are they from?”

            Bridgette’s aquamarine eyes sparkled. “One’s from Noah and the other’s from Frank.”

            Even in her late 40’s Bridgette maintained her slender form and vibrant red hair.

            “You’re such a femme fatale.” Linda sighed and gulped her espresso. “Me? I’m just fatal.”           

            “Nonsense, ma chère! You’re adorable. I just haven’t found my Prince Charming like you. I’m jealous. You have it all.”

            Linda fingered the crumpled divorce papers in her pocket served by her adulterous Prince Charming that morning. “Yes, I’ve certainly had it…all.”

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.        

28 July 2017

Published July 26, 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 © J Hardy Carroll

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

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction from the 1980’s

Word Count: 100

DIAL TONE

            The phone rang.

            Tammy pouted. “It’s probably for Bobbie.”

            “She’s on a date,” said Grandma. “Go answer the Ameche.”

            “The A-what-chee?”

            The ringing stopped.

            “That’s what we called the telephone when I was a girl.” Grandma popped a VHS tape in the VCR. “Sit. I’ll make popcorn.” 

            “‘The Story of Alexander Graham Bell?’” Tammy read the case and groaned. “This movie’s older than dirt.”   

            Bobbie came home just as Don Ameche and Loretta Young exchanged loving smiles. “What’s with the black and white moldy oldie?”

            The phone rang.

            “Rad flick.” Tammy brushed a stray tear. “Better answer the Ameche, sis.” 

 

Henry Fonda, Loretta Young and Don Ameche

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