3 October 2025

Published October 1, 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 © Dale Rogerson

It is sunrise or sunset. To the right is a building that looks like it has a tetris puzzle rising from it. The sun is peeking through an archway.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

ALL VOWS

Orange, golden and pink hues emblazoning the sky almost made Judith forget where she was. Her hollow stomach growled.

“Tonight, we begin our fast,” she said, “and recite the Kol Nidre.”

“Fast?” Rachel scowled. “Are you meshuga?”

Later in the darkened barracks, Judith lit a candle, opened a contraband prayer book and whispered, “Repeat after me.”

Eight-hundred emaciated women gathered around her. Without words their cries rose in unison as a prayer.

Years later, as her cantor sang a beautiful rendition of the prayer, memories of Auschwitz flooded Judith. She had experienced Light in the darkness. She would never forget.

*The above story is based on an actual survivor’s account.

The following is a little long but one of the most beautiful renditions of the Kol Nidre which is sung on Erev Yom Kippur, the evening of Yom Kippur. On the Jewish calendar the day begins at sunset.

26 September 2025

Published September 24, 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

Three guitars, two electric and one acoustic sit on their stands next to a window with vertical blinds. The electric on the left and he acoustic in the middle have Yellow rags attached for polishing. To the far right there’s a wooden stand that holds a record player/radio.

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Genre: Historical Fiction (kind of)
Word Count: 100

You could call this a sequel to my story about the origin of Martin guitars. This one concerns one very special Martin and his owner.

I’LL ALWAYS PICK YOU, TRIGGER

“I ain’t pickin’ no cotton-pickin’ cotton,” thirteen-year-old Willie told his grandpa.

“How you plan to earn a livin’ boy?”

“Play my guitar and sing. That’s how.”

With determination, grit and a unique voice, Willie made it from the honkytonks of Texas to the Grand Ole Opry.

His love affair began in 1969. Not with a woman, but with a Martin N-20 classical guitar he named Trigger. Every cowboy needs a trusty steed.

Trigger’s been autographed by over a hundred celebrities. Battered and bruised, a hole worn in its body, Trigger still accompanies Willie Nelson as they hit the road again.

And if you have another twelve minutes to spare CLICK for more of Willie Nelson and Trigger’s story.

19 September 2025

Published September 17, 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

Two padded chairs with cushions are in the foreground, a coffee table in front of them. They face a window that is arched at the top. Outside we see a well trimmed hedge and a wet street.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

PETTICOAT RULE

Sitting back against his chair’s cushions, Matthew puffed his cigar. “Women have no place in politics.”

Arthur chuckled. “What if someone were to nominate one for mayor in the upcoming elections?”

“Preposterous! Nonetheless, a magnificent prank. She’ll get twenty votes from her lady friends, and we’ll be done with such ridiculous notions.”

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Dora Salter laughed as she hung a damp diaper on the clothesline. “Me? Nominated for mayor? Of course I’ll accept.”

April 4, 1887, Susanna Madora Salter was elected mayor of Argonia, Kansas, the first female mayor in the United States proving that she who laughs last, laughs best.

MORE INFO

*Thanks to Sandra Crook for the phto and the tip. 😉

12 September 2025

Published September 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 © Yvette Prior

Front and center in the photo prompt is a sculture electric guitars. In the background is a white curtain. There are scroll patterns on the floor.

CLICK to add your own story.

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

WHILE MY GUITAR GENTLY WEEPS

“Papa, look! The American flag!” Eight-year-old Fredrick pointed.

Fredrick Senior, the sole survivor of a family of seven, gazed at the stars and stripes from the ship’s deck., Germany fast becoming a memory. “Ja, mein sohn. Das ist Amerika.

Beside him, Lucia smiled. “Papa will make beautiful music in this new land.”

In 1833, Christian Fredrick Martin opened his first shop on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

Six generations later, musicians from Johnny Cash to Elvis Presley to Eric Clapton have made Martin acoustic guitars sing.

One could say that C.F. Martin did indeed make beautiful music in America.

Wide view of the Christian Frederick Martin Marker

To learn more of the history of this company CLICK.

I’ve no idea if any of these guys played a Martin in the video. I just like this video. Enjoy. 😉

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For the month of September I’m participating in the American Cancer Society 5 mile swim challenge to benefit cancer research. Who among us have not been touched by this beast? My mother lost her battle to lung cancer in 1981. And my list goes on. CLICK to visit my page.

5 September 2025

Published September 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.

Some of you may recognize this prompt and story. I first posted it in 2019. If you have a story for this prompt feel free to use it. It’s my birthday this week so it seems the perfect time for a repost. Happy September y’all.

This week’s prompt features an old abandoned car which looks to be an old mid-nineteen fifties Chevrolet. It’s surrounded by trees.

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*Note: some of you may recognize this photo prompt from 2019. You may even have a story to go with it. Feel free to rerun!

Genre: Historical Faction
Word Count: 100

MCMLIII

“What’s so special about 1953?”

For one, Bob Wisoff bought his first car. A ’53 Chevrolet Bel Air.

September 4, he and Evalyne welcomed their second child.

On the same date, West Indian native, Clothilda Jacobs delivered her 5^th child, Lawrence. It was the twelfth day of New York’s longest recorded heatwave.

The Chevy is long gone.

Lawrence went on to delight audiences as Sweathog Freddy “Boom-Boom” Washington with a cocky grin and, “Hi there.”

Bob’s daughter, Rochelle, married and raised three sons. She still creates art, literature, and, occasionally, a bit of havoc.

It was a very good year.

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If you’re on Facebook, CLICK here for my fundraiser page. Something I can do with all my swimming. Thank you for considering your support.

29 August 2025

Published August 27, 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

This week’s prompt has part of an empty wine glass in the right foreground. You can see a candle lighter through the glass. Toward the back is a candleholder with melted candles. There is a cork on the table.

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count:100

A NICE JEWISH GIRL FROM CINCINNATI

Papa recited the prayer over the wine. As he recounted the ancient story, ten-year-old Theodosia Goodman envisioned herself in a sweeping drama set in Egypt.

For his part in the Passover seder, her brother Marque asked the question, “Why is this night different from all other nights?”

She interjected, “Someday I’m going to be an actress.”

“Of course you are,” Papa patted her head. “Tonight, we remember when our ancestors were slaves in Egypt.“

”A quarter of a century later in 1918, mesmerized by her onscreen performance, millions of moviegoers applauded Theodosia, now Theda Bara in the blockbuster Cleopatra.

CLICK to know more about her.

15 August 2025

Published August 13, 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 is of an old graveyard. It looks like it’s beside a church. At any rate the headstones look to be quite old.

To Join CLICK

The following story is a rerun from ten years ago as I’m still on vacation visiting my brother. Actually at this point, I’m bidding a fond farewell to him. The photo is also a rerun. Some of you wrote stories for it. Feel free to rerun yours as well.

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

WHERE THE GRAPES OF WRATH ARE STORED

“Water…somebody…please.”

Clara knelt next to the Union soldier and held a cup to his lips. The stench of feces and decaying flesh made her stomach roil. Her back and neck ached from three nights without sleep.

“Don’t you remember me, Miss Clara?”

At once she recognized the bright child from her long ago Texas schoolroom.

“Of course I do,” she whispered. “Save your strength, David. We’ll talk later.”

In one heart-stopping moment something ripped through her right sleeve. The cup dropped and David fell back, quivering in the agonies of death.

Clara Barton never mended the bullet hole.

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8 August 2025

Published August 6, 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 two coffee pots on a marble counter. Hope this gets your story brewing. 😉

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

BLESSED BEANS

“Holy Father,” Father Niccoló knelt before Pope Clemente VIII. “We have a serious problem brewing. You must forbid the people from partaking of this Satan’s drink, Your Holiness. This bitter beverage from the Muslim infidels stirs unnatural passions in good Christians.

The pontiff stroked his beard. “Bring me a cup of it, so that I might discern for myself,”

A steaming cup was brought to him. He breathed in the earthy aroma and then took a sip. After savoring the strong coffee’s warmth, he smiled and said, “This devil’s drink is delicious. We should cheat the devil by baptizing it.”

Legend or Fact? Who knows?

And just for fun. Wilkins Coffee commercials by the Muppets that aired from 1957-1960. 😀

1 August 2025

Published July 30, 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 is a grouping of crystals in what looks to be a museum display case. There a flash of light in the right upperhand corner and the crystals sparkle and reflect the light.

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This week I’m flying out to Wilmington NC for my annual visit with my brother and his wife. So here’s a blast from the past. 2015. There are some of you who were part of the Friday Fictioneers community then. Feel free to post your own rerun with the photo prompt…also a rerun.

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

SCHIST HAPPENS

I’ll never forget Mike O’Hara, my fellow New York sanitation worker. What a storyteller. Every Friday night me and the boys would settle round for a long listen.

“So I says to Mr. King, ‘whatcha make a dis rock I dug up?’”Mike took a long swig of beer. “Heavy sucker. Looks kinda like a red diamond. King says he knows a jeweler who’d kill for it.”

“This might be your tallest tale yet, O’Hara,” said Pete.

Mike had the last laugh when his “sewer garnet” made headlines in 1886. Pity he didn’t sell it hisself. Could-a made a fortune.

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25 July 2025

Published July 23, 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 description: A large gnarled stump of a tree is in the foreground. Behind it is a stone building with a staircase that leads up to an entrance with double wooden doors.

CLICK TO JOIN THE FF TEAM

Genre: Fiction…sort of…
Word Count: 100

SLINGS AND ARROWS

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never harm me.” Elise stuck out her tongue and ran home, her playmates’ taunts echoing in her ears.

Brenda had wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want Elise on my team. She’s a lousy catcher.”

“I don’t want her either.” Mindy had scowled. “She’s slower than frozen molasses.”

Elise wrapped her arms around her stuffed lion and burst into tears. “If you were a real lion, you could rip those brats apart.” She sniffed. “When I’m a famous artist they can choke on my paintbrushes.”

Nonetheless, their words hurt like hell.

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