WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT – TEAPOT

Published August 31, 2019 by rochellewisoff

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s comment section.

Word Prompt

Teapot

Challenge

This morning I wrote the first memory this word stirred. Thanks for the challenge, Sammi. 😀

SENTIMENTAL VALUE

“Just a dime store piece of junk.” Mom set the elephant-shaped teapot on the whatnot shelf. “But it belonged to my mother.”

Years later when my son broke it horsing around I wept. “It was just a piece of dime store junk, but it belonged to my mom.”

The poor teapot is long gone but I did find a picture of the exact same one. It’s considered an antique today. The whatnot shelf is still with us.

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THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED

Published August 25, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to the capital of Latvia, in Riga’s Old Town. Your mission is to write up 150 words inspired by the location. Feel free to use the image supplied, or venture around Riga for something that inspires you. You may write fact or fiction, poetry or prose. The only only requirement is to keep your piece at 150 words or less, as a consideration to others.

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

As always, thanks to Karen and Josh for heading up the challenge.

Click the frog to read other stories and add your own.

Peitav Synagogue in Riga, Latvia was built in 1905. It has survived the Holocaust and bombings in the 1990’s.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED

Katya played Chopin’s “Berceuse” on the imaginary piano in her coat pocket with trembling fingers. She tried to keep pace on the frozen path.

Without success, she tried to block out the image of her father, the cantor, lying in the street, his magnificent voice forever stilled. Latvia’s November wind whipped through her.

She remembered when Professor Philipp at the conservatory in Paris proclaimed, “Katya Abramis, you have an exquisite talent.”

“Schnell!”

A drunken soldier ripped an infant from a young mother’s arms and shot him. She dropped to her knees only to suffer the same fate as her son. The snow turned red beneath them.

“Shoes in this pile, clothes in that.”

Katya obeyed. What choice did she have?

Standing naked at the edge of a deep pit, Katya pictured her beloved synagogue and heard Papa sing “Lord of the World, Who was, Who is, Who is to come.”

There is little on the internet about Cantor Abram Abramis or his daughter Katya, renowned pianist of her time. Both perished in the 1941 Massacre in Riga. CLICK HERE for my source.

אנו זוכר’ם

WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT – VINTAGE

Published August 24, 2019 by rochellewisoff

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s comment section.

Word Prompt

Vintage

Challenge

THE CLASSICS

There’s something sobering about finding things at flea markets I remember from childhood in the vintage section. What does that make me?

than

Second Graders in Lunchline

Mom and me in front of the whatnot self.

WAKE-UP CALL

Published August 21, 2019 by rochellewisoff

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

FOR A GOOD TIME CLICK THE FROG!

This is something I don’t think I’ve done before. I’m back for a third time. 😀

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

WAKE-UP CALL

Bart slipped into the booth across from Marla. “That was some wedding yesterday.” He clutched the ring in his pocket waiting for the right moment.

She swished her luxurious hair over her toned shoulders. “Your sister and her groom make an odd couple.”

“They’re so in love. To think I set ‘em up for laughs—him being such a scrawny runt and her being—”

“Plump?”

“I’ve always teased her about it.” Bart hung his head.

“I so get it.” Marla giggled. “I’ll have a salad. How about you?”

Swallowing, he released the ring. “Y’know, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

THERE IS LOVE

Published August 21, 2019 by rochellewisoff

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

For a good time, click me!

I’m back for seconds.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

THERE IS LOVE

The organist played Paul Stookey’s “Wedding Song.”

Denise strolled toward Grant holding her father’s arm. Her round face shone. Grant’s heart raced. Why would such a beautiful woman choose him?

His best man Bart elbowed him. “Here comes the wide-track bride.”

“If you think so little of her, why’d you set us up?”

“She’s my sister. I felt sorry for her.”

Grant remembered how nervous he’d been until their fateful blind date when her periwinkle eyes and infectious laughter put him at ease.

He elbowed Bart. “Make one more wisecrack about my lovely wife and you’ll be my toothless brother-in-law.”

*

If you’ve never heard it, here’s your chance to hear Paul Stookey singing his Wedding Song

PENANCE

Published August 18, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman travels to the Florida Keys at the bottom of the United States. Like the other Torch Keys, it was probably named for the native Torchwood tree.

Stroll and around and see if you can find something that interests you. When you’re done, write 150 words and link to the prompt using the frog below. Remember, reading and commenting is part of the fun!

Thanks to Josh and Karen for hosting this weekly challenge.

To play add your story click the frog.

Sunset Siesta Florida Key

This week I revisited an oldie posted for Friday Fictioneers in January of 2013. It seems to fit the prompt so I added 50 more words. 😀

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

PENANCE

Jonathan gazed at his reflection in the cracked mirror. Self-loathing flooded him. He took pen in hand, the hand that only an hour before had closed the eyes of a deceased child, still hot with fever. Imagining his beloved’s sweet countenance, Jonathan wrote:

3 December in the year of our Lord 1765

Dearest Catherine,

It is with deep regret I write that I shan’t return to England. I cannot for I would not have you plight your troth to a murderer.

Now I must remain to make amends.

At the first the savage misliked me and I feared him. But over time we became friends. Together we laughed and fished the Seminole way in this Florida paradise.

Surely these people threaten us with war. Yet it was neither my musket nor my dagger that felled my warrior brother and his son, but my white man’s curse—smallpox.

Penitently yours,

Jonathan

WHERE TWO RIVERS MEET

Published August 11, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Karen’s directive: This week Pegman takes us to Manitoba, Canada. Feel free to use the location/picture supplied with the prompt, our take your own tour of Manitoba via Google Maps and find a view to inspire you.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the week’s location. You may write poetry, prose, or essay. Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ stories is part of the fun!

Thank you, Karen and Josh for hosting this weekly challenge.

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN THE FUN

Here is the photo I chose from Google Maps. I hope one day to see the Northern Lights in person.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

WHERE TWO RIVERS MEET

Blue, purple and green snaked across the night sky. Stars twinkled through the brilliant colours.

Full and drowsy after the evening meal, warmed by the fire, Tantoo laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Tell me about the lights, Nikawi. Where do they come from?”

Nikawi stroked Tantoo’s hair. “They are the spirits dancing. See how they move in circles?”

“Nohkum says they are our beloved ancestors visiting us and we should respect them.”

“Your grandmother is a wise woman.” Nikawi’s eyes glittered. “One day we will dance with them.”

“I can hardly wait.” Tantoo yawned, her eyelids heavy with sleep. “I heard the elders say our way of life will end soon. Is this true?”

Nikawi did not reply.

The girl could not imagine it. The Nisichawayasihk had always hunted, fished and tended the land. In return Mother Earth rewarded their reverence. How could it not always be so?

WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT – SONG

Published August 10, 2019 by rochellewisoff

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s comment section.

Word Prompt

Song

Challenge

LOOK AT ME

I was sixteen and he was twenty-two—the older man. He didn’t kiss like any of the, albeit few, boys I’d gone out with. His mellow voice took me captive on our first date.

He held doors for me and always walked on the outside of the sidewalk. I felt protected and cherished.

Zepi’s Pizza, our favorite haunt, provided a three-piece band and a small dance floor. When my guy held me and sang “Misty” in my ear, I was as helpless as a kitten up a tree.

“Misty” became our song and, after 50 years, I still feel protected and cherished.

*September 26 marks the 50th anniversary of our first date.

Senior Prom the night he proposed.

This was sung at our wedding.

9 August 2019

Published August 7, 2019 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 photo and may even think you’ve written a story for it. If you were part of Friday Fictioneers the week of December 6, 2013, you’re probably right. 😉 I’m off to visit my brother in North Carolina this week so I’m taking the liberty of posting a retread. To see the original post and who the Fictioneers were click here.

Do it! Do it! Click the frog!

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

CLOSE ENCOUNTER

Darlene rescued the tiny, squalling creature from a smelly garbage can. He squirmed and squeaked as she cuddled him on the way home.

“It’s E.T., Mommy. Can I keep him?”

“He needs special care, honey.” Mom gently wrapped him in a blanket and picked up the phone.

To Darlene’s delight, after months of social workers’ visits, Mom said, “He’s ours, sweetie, but we can’t call him E.T. What shall we name your new brother?”

“Elliott!”

Five years later, when Elliott scribbled green flying saucers all over her math homework, Darlene screamed, “You little monster! You really are from outer space.”

***

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SABBATICAL

Published August 3, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to the Black Hills in South Dakota in the West-Midwest, United States. Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the prompt. Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

It has been a while since I’ve participated in What Pegman Saw. Busy times lately and not a lot of extra headspace. However the location is hard to avoid since my husband is currently in South Dakota for Bike Week in Sturgis.

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating the challenge. 😀

Spearfish Canyon SD Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Genre: Personal Musing

Word Count: 150

SABBATICAL

He spent months plotting and planning his annual trip to Sturgis, the Mecca of motorcycle enthusiasts. He hadn’t missed Bike Week in years.

“Should I take my big tent? Where are the sheets to fit my cot?”

She peered at him around her easel. “Linen closet.”

Silence ensued until…

“Hey Honey?”

She rinsed out her brush. “Hey what-y”

The daily exchange continued until departure time arrived. He’d repacked his trailer no less than three times, arranging necessary items.

Clad in leathers and helmet, he struck a pose. “Take my picture.”

After mounting his two-wheeled stallion, he kissed her goodbye. She stood in the driveway and waved as he motored down the street. He would return refreshed in two weeks with stories and photos of South Dakota.

Friends often asked her, “Why don’t you go with him?”

She typed a new chapter to her latest work-in-progress. “To each their own vacation.”