8 June 2018

Published June 6, 2018 by rochellewisoff

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100

DAY OF ATONEMENT

“Pardon me, Frau, what year is this?”

“Why 1889, of course.” The young mother lifts her son from his wicker pram. “5 October to be exact.”

My heart thumps. Weinstein, that lunatic genius has done it. It’s 200 years ago.

“Could you direct me to Salzburger Vorstadt 219?”

“That’s our address.”

“Frau—Hitler?”

“Ja.” She presses her cheek against the baby’s. “Adolf, let’s show the nice man the way.”

I tighten my hand around the gun in my pocket. The child gazes at me with innocent blue eyes.

What can I do? I’m doomed to let history run its course.

It’s a rhetorical question. Think hard before answering. Given the opportunity, could you pull the trigger?

*Note: October 5, 1889 was the highest of high Jewish holidays, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. What better day to off the future Fuehrer?

This is a bit unusual for me, but one FF’r took it upon herself to write her story as a solution to my protagonist’s dilemma. Here’s the link to Melody Pearson’s post.

1 June 2018

Published May 30, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Connie Gayer

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Questionable

Word Count: 100

THE CHEESE STANDS ALONE

“A dip in Farmer Gayer’s pond would feel mighty nice.” Hot from hiking, Shelley pointed at the man in overalls a few feet away and whispered to Dale. “Old buzzard’s as mean as they come.”

Dale tilted her head. “Looks harmless enough to me. Nice hat, eh? Maybe you should draw a picture of him as a peace offering.”

“Nothing doing. The wannabe art critic turned up his nose at my Winky.” Shelley opened her drawing pad to a sketch of a fawn. “That Nasal Falls curmudgeon wouldn’t know true talent if it hit him in a speeding purple truck.”

For some crackers with that cheese, click here.

AUCTION OF SOULS

Published May 26, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Armenia. You are welcome to use the photo provided in the prompt, or chose from among many photo spheres from across the country.

Will you dig into Armenia’s rich history? Delve into its present? Imagine its future? Or will you conjure your own alternate reality? The only rule is to keep your story, poem, or essay under 150 words.

Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others work is part of the fun!

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this weekly globetrotting experience.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

AUCTION OF SOULS

I had just curled up on the sofa when the doorbell rang. Sore from giving birth and sleep deprived from a full-night’s worth of colic, I padded to the door. There stood my Armenian grandmother, Teddy bear in tow.

“Tatik, I just put Joseph down for his nap.”

Her brown eyes twinkled. “I come to see my great-grandson. The first boy in two generations.”

Dropping the toy on the couch, she bent over the bassinet and swept my son into her arms. Suddenly, she collapsed into the rocker clutching him to her chest and burst into tears. “He looks just like my baby brother—Joseph. The Turks ripped him from my mother’s arms, buried him up to his shoulders in the dirt and crushed his little skull under their trucks. Sixty years later I still hear the screams.

“Because we were Christians they called us infidels. I call them bastards.”

December 1915 NY Times

25 May 2018

Published May 23, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 of your 70 or so readers and keep your story to 100 words. Thank you.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

VINTAGE

“Sesenta y seis.” Counting backwards, I freestyle, somersault at the wall and backstroke. “Sheshim v’hamesh…”

My Medicare card arrived yesterday, officially heralding the long-since passing of my youth.

“Sesenta y cuatro.” I flip and breast-stroke to the other side. “You’re only as old as you feel. Sheshim v’sh’losh…”

How do I feel?

The crystal bowl on my table sparkles in my mind—an heirloom dating back to my grandparents’ wedding in the early 1900’s. A century hasn’t dulled its beauty.

I dive under the water and flex my flippers. This little mermaid has miles to swim before that final lap.

Yes the bowl in the photo is the bowl in my story. 😉 Originally it was part of a three-piece set. My dad was one of three children. My grandparents gave each of them a piece when they married. Personally I think my parents got the best of the set. It has been a source of fascination since I can remember. And, yes, I do count backwards, alternating Spanish and Hebrew when I swim laps. (Sensenta y seis -66, sheshim v’hamesh -65, sesenta y cuatro – 64, sheshim v’sh’losh – 63 and so on and so on and scooby dooby do 😉 ) It helps me stay focused. The pool at our fitness center is 25 ft in length. 66 lengths equals a mile.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

TREDEGAR 1911

Published May 14, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Gwynedd, Wales. This week’s location was suggested by regular Pegman storyteller Alicia Jamtaas. Be sure to visit her site and enjoy her flash fiction and poetry over at https://lishwriter.wordpress.com/ Thanks for the great suggestion, Lish!

Your mission is to visit the region via Google Maps, and write (up to) 150 words inspired by the prompt. You can use the photo above, or browse around for your own view anywhere in Gwynedd. There are plenty of photo spheres around Caernarfon Castle, and both street view and photo spheres all over Gwynedd.

Once your piece is polished, you can share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

So here I am late for the party once more. And…while my picture is of a street in Gwynedd, my story takes place in another part of Wales–Tredegar. You may be saying, “Oy, there she goes with the Jewish history again.” 😉 Couldn’t help myself.

As always, thank you to Karen and Josh for facilitating this group of globe trotting writers.

Genre: Historical Fiction (You were expecting maybe vampires?)

Word Count: 150

TREDEGAR 1911

“Why, Adoshem?” Tears streamed from my papa’s eyes and soaked his beard. “Again and again You bring destruction upon us? For this we fled Russia—to be slaughtered in Wales? ‘He has hurled fire into my bones—’” A sob choked his words.

I trembled. The night before I’d hidden under my bed, covering my ears to blot out shouts of, “Get the Jews!” and the crash of shattering windows.

Broken furniture littered the floor. Papa’s sewing machine lay in two pieces. Spools of thread and shredded fabric were strewn everywhere.

Mama’s soft voice cut through the hush. “Danken Gott, we’re alive.”

Papa winced. “For how long. Everywhere the goyim hate us. ”

At that moment a Christian youth entered the shop, head bowed, and gave Papa a banknote. “My father sends his apologies and this to help rebuild.” He took a broom from the floor. “Perhaps I can help.”

CLICK FOR A BIT OF HISTORY

Some Even Call it Poetry

Published May 7, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Many thanks to Marsha Gershun who, for the third year in a row has organized the CloudBursT at Beth Torah Synagogue in Overland Park, Kansas.

Martha Gershun

This was my second year to participate. Although, only a handful of us turned up, it was a lovely time to share our individual Jewish experience.

Two of my Hebrew students came to support me…Joy and Joie…so you could say it was a joyful experience. 😉 I wish I’d thought to take a picture of the two of them. Alas, I didn’t so you’ll have to take my word for it that they are two very lovely ladies.

Although I would love to have shared a few other readers, my husband’s smartphone could only take so much. So for your watching and listening (hopefully) pleasure, here’s my part of the program. My Friday Fictioneers and other Pegman participants will undoubtedly recognize these pieces.

BEYOND THE WALLS

Published April 30, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman goes to the Great Wall of China. Feel free to choose from photospheres you find anywhere along it’s length. This link will get you started, or you can venture off on your own. No need to stay with your tour group on Pegman tours 😉

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by your tour of the location. You’re welcome to write fiction, essay, poetry, or anything you choose. Once your 150 words is polished, you can share it with other Pegman contributors at the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Thanks, always, to Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge. Great fun!

I wasn’t sure I’d make it back this week. We’re finding it takes a while to re-acclimate after a long trip. At any rate, this story has been brewing for the past couple of days, so, despite my being late for the Pegman party, I post this for those who’ll read.

The photo I chose.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

BEYOND THE WALLS

The letter arrived a few days before my thirtieth birthday. I studied the handwriting. It almost looked like I’d written it myself. Was it a cruel prank or a defining moment?

“No doubt this is terrible timing, but I’ve been searching for you half my life. Your Facebook posts about your poor mum’s dreadful automobile accident, told me I’d found my answer…”

Searching for me? I lived in Missouri, thousands of miles from London. This stranger, named Sally Myers-Hempstead, proposed we make a Skype date.

Ron booted up my laptop. “What’ve ya got to lose, Sis? This might be your answer, too.”

What answer? My adoption had never been a secret. Mom and Dad loved to tell the story of how they went all the way to China for their baby girl.

My mirror image smiled onscreen. “Happy birthday, Sondra!”

I managed to whisper. “Happy birthday to you, too, Sally.”

*

It does happen…quite a bit actually. These two young ladies, adopted by different families were reunited on GMA a couple of years ago. There are many other stories out there, similar to my bit of fiction.

27 April 2018

Published April 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PARTNERS IN BOTANY

September 1880

Dearest Lemmonia,

I never dreamt I would meet such a marvelous botanical comrade. Two souls are we with one thought.

Where shall we honeymoon? I propose we journey to the far-off land of the Apaches in Arizona to explore new species of flora or even climb the Santa Catalinas. I await your reply, my love.

Forever yours,

Sara

***

Their guide, Emerson O. Stratton, later reminisced, “We christened the mountain Mt. Lemmon in her honor—the first white woman to reach the peak. There I chopped the bark off a great pine tree and we all carved our names.”

*One of the things we did on our vacation was to go up Mt. Lemmon. Amazingly, you start at the bottom with Saguaro Cacti and end up at the top amid Pine Trees. It’s when I learned that the mountain was named after this intriguing lady that my bit of fiction was born. So much story, so few words allowed. 😉

CLICK HERE TO KNOW MORE

20 April 2018

Published April 18, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

*Note: This marks the third week we will be on our road trip from Kansas City to Los Angeles and back again. This has been posted ahead. Thank you for understanding my slowness to read and comment.

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.

get the InLinkz code

Please be considerate of the over 70 weekly participants and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.

The following story is a rerun from November 2014, so many of you will remember it, some of you won’t. However I did use a different prompt at the time. To visit Click Here

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

IN AN EARLIER LIFE

“Too much studying will ruin you. Carpe Diem. Let’s play catch.” Ted grabbed Douglas’ notebook and pressed a pie tin into his hand.

“Catch? With this?”

“From the Frisbie Pie Company. It’s all the rage on campus.”

For the next hour Douglas forgot about Yale, final examinations and commencement. Tension from late nights hunched over text books lifted off his shoulders and a sense of euphoria filled him as he and Ted flung the whirling dish back and forth.

“This is bound to become a national sport,” cried Douglas.

“Tin Tossing Tournaments?”

“Why not?”

“School’s finally driven you mad, MacIlroy.”

With Doug, in Kansas for a disc golf tournament in 2016. I think I was standing on a step.

JUST KILL ME ALREADY

Published April 15, 2018 by rochellewisoff

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Blame it on my good friend Dale and her friends Marc and Karen. All I can say is, “Oy.” Normally, I’m not a fan of doing prompts that require certain words. For whatever reason the muse wrestled me to the ground this morning and challenged me. Happy Sunday.

The required words are: Jesus, holy water, drive-thru, twinkies, wine, dinosaurs, passion, busybody, clubhouse, cross, absolution

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 150

JUST KILL ME ALREADY

“Don’t cross me this morning,” Miriam staggered to the kitchen table. “I had too much wine last night at the clubhouse.”

Yosi passed her a plate of Twinkies. “Here, mommy. Breakfast of champions.”

Biting into one of the golden cakes, she let the cream filling melt on her tongue. At that moment the phone rang.

The voice on the other end shrilled with passion. “Good morning, Miriam.”

Miriam rolled her eyes. Oy. It’s that busybody Mary-Agnes. Probably going to preach to me about Jesus and how I can find absolution.”

Agnes continued, seemingly unaware that Miriam had only groaned a greeting. “Father O’Malley tripped over the holy water this morning in church. Totally drenched a kid playing with his plastic dinosaurs on the front row.”

Choking on her coffee, Miriam finally said, “I have to go, Aggie. They’re having a special on gefilte fish and fries at the Kosher drive-thru.”