1 December 2017

Published November 29, 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.

As you can see, we’re jumping on the Black and White Bandwagon of late. 😉

PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name

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Ladies and Gentlemen, the story you’re about to read is true…

Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

GOING CONCERN

Proverbs 22:6 admonishes parents to “train up a child…”

No one bears the weight of it more than mothers of sons graduating from diapers to Underoos. I was convinced when one of mine said, “I do” at the altar, he would.

Toilet training was often touch-and-no-go. Number One-of-Three loved to show me his creations, real or imagined. Once he brought me the empty chair insert and chortled. “Potty, Mommy.”

“In a pig’s eye,” I muttered.

From then on, whenever he made a deposit he’d bring it to me and say, “Pig’s eyes.”

Oh be careful little lips what you say.

DELLA

Published November 25, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Isle of Wight in the United Kingdom. Take a tour of the area and see what inspires you. The only rule is that your submission be 150 words or less. You can capture your own picture of the area or use the one provided.

This week’s location was suggested by GeorgieMoon and and I know you’ll have fun here. Thanks for the suggestion Georgie!

As always, thanks to Karen Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this challenge.

I’ve been MIA from Pegman the past couple of weeks as my coffee table book is taking shape and life has gotten a little hectic. My story has nothing to do with the Isle of Wight and I’m not sure it even has a beginning, middle and end but it’s what is on my mind this morning. You see, my friend passed away just last night. I don’t post this to garner your sympathy, but to tell you about one of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the privilege to know. She leaves in her wake others who can and, I’m sure, will echo my sentiments.

Genre: Eulogy

Word Count: 150

DELLA

The heart has a revolving door, doesn’t it? People come and go, some for longer periods than others. Then there are those who take up permanent residence. We may not see them every day or even call them to chat but they are always there.

She and I had that kind of relationship. A year, even two, could go by, yet, when we met for an occasional coffee, we picked up where we left off.

Her name meant bright or noble. No one else embodied those words in quite the same way. She was the pillar of faith, spirit of wisdom and voice of reason. I never saw her waiver or even slow down.

82 years young? No! She was ageless.

To refer to her in the past tense is unfathomable. Her influence, as my second mother and friend, as long as I walk this earth, will be ever present.

Della on her 80th birthday

17 November 2017

Published November 15, 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 keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

LAST RITES

Grandma Tollard met Jeannie at the front door, her long grey hair askew. She seized Jeannie’s arm with one bony hand. “Thank you for coming, dear.”

“What happened?”

“I…we, that is…he…he had a heart attack and—”

“Did you call 911?”

“—he’s dead. I called Fr. Jenson.”

Grandma clutched her lace peignoir robe at the neck and led Jeannie to the bedroom. Biting her quivering lip, Jeannie pulled the sheet over her grandfather’s grinning countenance.

She wrapped a comforting arm around her weeping grandmother.

Grandma sniffed. “I’ll never forget his final words to me.”

“What were they?”

“‘Hi-ho Silver!’”

Many thanks to my BFF Jeannie O’Hare for her generosity in allowing me to share her strange but true family stories. Some things just can’t be made up…but they can be embellished.

Jeannie and me

To hear my interview on Impact USA radio last week CLICK HERE

A Lovely Interview

Published November 14, 2017 by rochellewisoff

I will make this blog short and, hopefully, sweet.

Last week I had the unexpected pleasure of interviewing with Dr. Paul Reeves on Impact USA out of Detroit. Click on his name under the photo to learn more.

I say unexpected because it all came about quickly and seemingly out of nowhere.

Dr. Paul Reeves

I was chatting in a Facebook private message with friend Caroline Giammanco , author of “The Boonie Hat Bandit” and “Guilty Hearts” who asked if I would be interested in doing an interview. If so she could get me in touch with Deborah Ratliff who gathers info for Dr. Paul. (Are you with me?) I emailed my particulars to Deborah and within hours I received an email from Dr. Paul. I’ll stop there since my head’s spinning just writing it.

Here I am with Caroline in Chicago May before last.

Without further adieu, here’s the interview if you have 30 minutes to spare. For those of you in Friday Fictioneers, you’ll note that the subject came up more than once. Perhaps we’ll see Dr. Paul in our midst as a Fictioneer in the not too distant future.

10 November 2017

Published November 8, 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 © Marie Gail Stratford

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

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FOR THE DEAD AND THE LIVING, WE MUST BEAR WITNESS *

I remember it like it was yesterday—November 9, 1963 in Chicago, my father took me downtown to celebrate my 10^th birthday.

His German accent sounded like music. “Vhere shall ve go, schatzi?”

“The Art Institute.”

I skipped along the sidewalk, holding his hand. He stopped and went to his knees in front of a synagogue. Slipping off his hat, he covered his face. The sun limned his blond waves.

“What’s wrong, Vati?”

“Meine Schande. Those magnificent windows—shattered! 25 years ago today. Schweinehund! Jewish businesses—destroyed! What did I do? Die Nill! I—I stood by and did nothing.”

*Quote from Elie Wiesel

79 years ago this week.

October’s End

Published October 31, 2017 by rochellewisoff

The weekend, beginning with Thursday, the 26th was busy one. It began with an interview with Jim Christina and Russ Avison on The Writers Block. Some will remember that I had the joy of going out to California to interview in the studio with them last November. The opportunity just didn’t present itself this year so we muddle through via telephone. Nonetheless, I had a great time.

Here is the link with Jim’s generous intro: 😀

Russ and I had a great conversation with author and artist Rochelle Wisoff Fields last evening. An informed writer and unique historian of early 1900’s Russia and the US. Giver her books a read! Here is the podcast address: http://latalkradio.com/content/writer-102617%20#audio_play

It’s an hour long and 40 minutes of it is Yours Truly. I hope you’ll take the time to listen.

Russ Avison

Jim Christina

Finding Cure Through Literacy

Friday morning we hit the road at 5:00 AM to make the long drive to Texarkana for the 8th Annual Gathering of Authors, a charity event and book signing. The festivities were kicked off with benefit banquet. All proceeds were to go to St. Jude’s Hospital.

I made some new friends and valuable connections. Not to mention it was nice to just get away for a couple of days with my hubby.

Afterward went to spend the rest of the weekend with gracious hosts Tom and Frances Mosby in Dover AR. Since Jan hadn’t heard my interview and we had a long drive we listened to it. Now he knows that “big men walk in fear of me.” (Thanks, Russ.)

Frances and I have known each other since kindergarten so we can always find things to talk about. Yes, we still chatter like a couple of school girls. I’m glad that the guys get along so well, too.

Below are a few photos from the weekend for your viewing pleasure. 😉

Meeting of the artists. With Debra Jo Johnson

Frances and Tom Mosby. We forgot to take pics together so here they are at their sons recent wedding.

Tammy Holder Thompson, The woman who started it all.

Chatting with Ann Redelfs, MD and new friend.

Alpacas on the Mosby ranch.

Young award winning authors

Meeting other authors for lunch on Friday

Judy Lowe, fellow author and new friend.

As we meandered down our street toward home, our neighbor Bud who we’d asked to take in our mail, stopped us to tell us there was a serious problem. With my heart in my mouth, I followed Bud and Jan into their house. Bud’s wife, Cindi met us at the door with wine and said, “You won’t want to be our friends anymore. I washed your mail.”

Have you ever seen a stack of mail that has been trough wash, rinse and spin? Most of it was recognizable. Just mush around the edges. Once we ascertained that there was nothing of any consequence, we toasted our friendship with laughter and wine.

Thank you, Bud and Cindi Turner for being such good friends!

UNRESOLVED

Published October 15, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is on the lush tropical island of Mauritius. WHAT PEGMAN SAW is a growing prompt challenge hosted by the talented writing team of Rawson and Carroll whom I appreciate as time goes by.

Link to this week’s stories here:

As I began my research trail on the Island of Mauritius, I was led far afield by a documentary on the History channel. 😉 Blame it on my husband who turned it on. The photo I chose is from Mauritius, but that’s as close as I came.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

UNRESOLVED

“Look, Vovô. I bring a present for you,” Marina held up a glistening seashell.

Clarence hoisted his great-granddaughter onto his lap, took the shell from her and kissed the top of her head. “Belíssimo, like you, my little mermaid.”

“Tell me a story, Vovô. About when you and Tio John stole away from the island on the big rock.”

“1962.” He gazed at the sea and squinted at the setting sun, a brilliant ball against the amber sky, reflecting off the waves. “A whole lifetime ago.”

“Two lifetimes. Nearly fifty years.” Clarence’s brother John sank into a beach chair beside them. “Wonder if they still remember us. Wish we’d had a chance to say goodbye.”

“I shore do miss Mama’s fried chicken, ain’t nothin’ in Brazil holds a candle to it.” Clarence could still hear the prison bars clank behind him. He pressed his cheek against Marina’s. “Inescapable Alcatraz. Ha!”

*

Anglin Brothers in 1960

Could this be them in Brazil in 1972?

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13 October 2017

Published October 11, 2017 by rochellewisoff

My story with a message from last week:

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

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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.

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Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BIRD THONG

“Raaaawk! Perry pecked a pack of pimpled pipers.” The bird flapped his feathers and strutted across his perch. “Perry’s pimpled pipers ate pickled peaches. Raaaawk!”

Connie swept bird poo beneath his post, dumped it in the trash, and shook her head. “It’s Peter Piper, you silly goose.”

“Hoooonk! I’m a goose!”

“No, you’re a Mynah bird.”

“Raaaaawk! Mynah place or yours, sexy thing?”

“Don’t! Stop it, you dumb bird.”

“Don’t! Stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

Outside, her husband’s truck juddered into the driveway. She met him at the door. “Russell Gayer, why can’t we have a dog like normal people?”

Th-th-that’s all folks!

Th-th-that’s all folks!!!

MY PRECIOUS

Published October 6, 2017 by rochellewisoff

An unusual week for me. A second story came to mind and I felt compelled to share it. Thank you for your indulgence. 😉

Genre: Fantasy

Word Count: ONE HUNDRED (Title doesn’t count)

MY PRECIOUS

Waves lapped against the boat’s hull. Moonlight made the water sparkle. Thoughts and ideas flipped inside the author’s head like Spanish dancers.

She opened her laptop and, for a moment, stared at the blank screen. With relish, she typed sentence upon sentence, her excitement mounting. Her fingers seemed to take on a mind of their own, tapping across the keyboard.

She grinned. “Too good to stop here.”

Before she knew it, 100 words grew to 200. Not one of them could be spared.

A gossamer-winged faerie settled on the writer’s shoulder and whispered, “Way too good to meet the challenge, eh?”

In case you wondered about the Spanish Dancers:

29 September 2017

Published September 27, 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.

With its battered tin roof it looks like an old warehouse that has been abandoned. The windows aren’t broken and the concrete walls look rough. What story does this old shell of a building with its brick chimney tell you? Can you tell the rest of us in 100 words?

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

RADIUM DIAL

“Jinny was barely growed. 1914-1934” Her lower lip quivered as she traced the dates on the headstone with a frail finger. “She earned $17.50 a week painting them glow-in-the-dark clock numbers.”

Wind gusting across St. Columbus Cemetery chilled me. “Let’s get you home, Mrs. Abbot.”

“Not yet. I want you to see.” She seethed and brandished a Geiger counter probe over her sister’s grave. “Jinny took sick. Strange. Her jaws done crumbled. Died like the other girls at her factory. The doctors made lame excuses. Damned liars is what they was.” The machine sputtered. “That sound like Diphtheria to you?”

*