18 November 2016

Published November 16, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

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Genre: (Recent) Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

CODA

Unable to lift her head, Jacqueline watched her husband sit at the piano. “Please, play Brahms for me.”

As he performed the lilting sonata, she imagined her cello strings against her fingers and felt the weight of the bow. With wide vibrato her now lifeless fingers slid from one note to the next.

Daniel finished and sank down on a chair beside the bed.

A tear trickled from her eye. “Do you remember the night we met?”

“I tried to accompany you.” He smiled. “It never dawned on you how difficult it was for us mere mortals to follow you.”

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Jacqueline du Pré and Daniel Barenboim

CLICK to learn more. 😉

When the research thread led me to Jacqueline du Pré I was immediately taken captive. Her talent, presence and tragic story sucked me in. Finding a short clip was next to impossible. The conductor is her husband Daniel Barenboim. I realize that classical music isn’t everyone’s style so there’s no need to feel obligated to watch the video. Shalom, Rochelle

11 November 2016

Published November 9, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 98

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU

August 1953

Chère Maîtresse,

Today I hold my firstborn, Lois Marie. Marie is for my mother of blessed memory who perished before I turned nine.

Remember how she shoved me into your tender arms at Camp de Rivesaltes? Remember how you kissed away my tears? Why did you leave your comfortable home to spit in the face of death?

“It is my purpose,” you said.

Although I’ve been criticized for naming my Jewish baby after a living gentile, it’s only right to honor the American angel who combed the lice from my hair.

Je ne t’oublierai jamais, Lois Gunden.

*Note: It is an Ashkenazi Jewish tradition to name a child after someone, usually a family member, who has passed on. To a certain extent it’s believed that the soul of the loved one lives on in the child who bears his or her name.

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Lois is one of the “righteous gentiles” honored at Yad VaShem, the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem.

To learn about this courageous woman more click here.

November’s Guest Storyteller, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published November 5, 2016 by rochellewisoff

I’m honored to be Sarah Potter’s guest storyteller this month. My story is more than 100 words and one of my favorites. 😉

Sarah Potter Writes

Kansas City native Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is a woman of Jewish descent and the granddaughter of Eastern European immigrants. She has a close personal connection to Jewish history, which has been a recurring theme throughout much of her writing. Growing up, she was heavily influenced by the Sholom Aleichem stories, the basis for Fiddler on the Roof. Her novels Please Say Kaddish for Me, From Silt and Ashes and As One Must, One Can were born of her desire to share the darker side of these beloved tales—the history that can be difficult to view, much less embrace.

She is also the author and illustrator of This, That and Sometimes the Other, an eclectic anthology of short stories.

Before becoming an author, Rochelle attended the Kansas City Art Institute, where she studied painting and lithography. Her preferred media are pen and ink, pencil, and watercolor. Her artwork is featured…

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4 November 2016

Published November 2, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE NIGHT AMERICA TREMBLED

In 1938 my dad sprang for a new RCA Victor 7K1 console.

The radio took a prominent place in our home. President Roosevelt’s voice filled our living room. I loved Charlie McCarthy. My sister adored Bing Crosby.

One night, putting the finishing touches on my Halloween costume, mom turned the dial. “Ramon Raquello and his orchestra.”

I rolled my eyes. “Boring.”

A panicked voice interrupted. “Ladies and gentlemen this is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed…”

We cowered, believing, as many Americans did, invaders from Mars had landed. What a pity they weren’t real and didn’t devour the Reichstag.

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“…it was intended to be the Mercury theater’s own version of dressing up in a sheet and jumping out of a bush and saying, ‘Boo!’ Starting now we couldn’t soap all your windows and steal your garden gates by tomorrow night so we did the next best thing.” Orson Welles, October 30,1938

28 October 2016

Published October 26, 2016 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.

NOTE ON THE GREAT PROMPT FIASCO: When this went up this morning (02:30 my time) the prompt did not appear. I’ve now fixed the problem and you should be seeing the prompt. For those who wrote in its absence, kudos. For those who are coming in later and can see the prompt, it is NOT OK to choose a different photo.

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

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Four years ago, this week, Madison Woods, the creator of Friday Fictioneers turned her baby over to me. Becoming the FFF – Friday Fictioneers Facilitator is one of the best things I’ve ever done. A rousing THANK YOU to all who faithfully participate.

Shalom,

Rochelle

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Busy-ness abounds this week. Therefore, I’m cheating. The following story isn’t exactly a story, but the opening paragraphs, as written, of the first chapter of AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. Naturally, I hope this might whet your appetite to read the rest of the book.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BREATH AND SHADOW

Afternoon sun streamed through the tall classroom windows and cast long shadows across the dusty floor. On the chalkboard in rigid script was written, “9 October 1907, Wednesday.” Arithmetic problems in childish scrawls covered another blackboard on the opposite wall.

Behind her desk, the teacher sat with rawboned fingers clasped on top of her attendance book. Her hair was parted down the middle and pulled back from her face into a severe bun.

Under the teacher’s spectacled glare, Havah fidgeted on the hard chair. “What did my Reuven do that was so terrible?”

“He gave another boy a black eye.”

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MISS KLINE Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

REUVEN – Original Artwork ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

HAVAH -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The proof is in which means more editing. Release date to follow soon.

21 October 2016

Published October 19, 2016 by rochellewisoff

ANNOUNCING GREAT NEWS!!!

Alicia Jamtaas has been published! Her short story, “A Private Death” has been included in the fall issue of “Sweet Tree Review.” Way to go Alicia!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller

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Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

PENNY-ANTE

Sunday was “Fan Tan” night when I was eight. My family played the card game for pennies.

“Where’s that seven of hearts?” Dad tossed a copper on the table with mock disgust. “Shelly? You only have one card left?”

“The little brat’s got it,” said my fourteen-year-old brother pitching his coin.

I batted my eyelashes. “Why, Jeffrey, whatever do you mean?” With a dramatic flourish, I laid down the seven. “I win!”

It’s not the victories I remember as much as the unprecedented peace between my parents, my father’s relentless teasing, and laughing so hard I nearly wet my pants.

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Character Study – Charles Rosenthal

Published October 7, 2016 by rochellewisoff

As a girl in, Fruma Ya’el fell in love with an idealistic Jewish doctor from the United States.

Fruma Ya’el -Original Artwork-© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“I was your age when a doctor came to visit Svechka—Dr. Rosenthal—all the way from New York, America,” she tells Havah. “He claimed it was his mission to recruit Jews to become doctors so we wouldn’t always be at the mercy of the Goyim. He stayed for two years and filled my head full of knowledge and dreams…”

Recognizing Fruma Ya’el’s aptitude for medicine, Charles urged her to return to New York with him to study medicine and marry him. When tragedy struck she laid her aspirations to rest. Obeying her father’s wishes, she married Herschel. Dejected and heartbroken, Charles left Svechka.

Dr. Charles Rosenthal – Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Setting down the tattered diaper she used as a polishing cloth, Fruma Ya’el reached into a concealed pocket in the wooden box’s lining and pulled out an old tintype. Lean, with black hair, bushy moustache and olive skin, to this day, Charles’ image held the power to quench her arid heart’s thirst if only for the briefest moment. The memory of his lips pressed hard against hers still lingered in her mind like sweet cream and honey.

“Charles. I can’t.”

“You’d rather rot in ignorance because of a narrow minded old man and a piece of paper than come with me?”

“I’m all my father has left.”

Charles’ dark eyes filled. He grasped her face with both hands. “I beg of you, Ya’el. Think. There are schools cropping up all over America for women. You’ll be a brilliant doctor, a medical pioneer.”

“What about Papa’s honor?”

“Damn ‘Papa’s honor’!”

~~Taken from Please Say Kaddish for Me

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

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Amazon Angus & Robertson B&N BAM BookWorld FishPond Shelfari The Book Depository Waterstones GoodReads iDreamBooks HPB Hudson Book Sellers IndieBound Powell’s Books

Amazon AU Amazon UK Amazon Germany Amazon Italy Amazon France Amazon Spain

The Sequel

Amazon Amazon Spain Amazon Italy Amazon Germany Amazon UK Amazon France

Watch for the third in Havah’s Series!

COMING SOON!

Check out my author page on the Loiacono Website. For all of the character studies thus far, click on the link Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Art and Blogs or my website RochelleWordArt.

7 October 2016

Published October 5, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BORN ON THE 4^TH OF JULY

“Greetings to all you boneheads in the Pacific, this is your number one enemy, your favorite playmate, Orphan Ann, with some good jive.”

Trembling, Iva put down her script and set the needle on the record. What choice did she have? She had to eat.

Stranded in Tokyo after a short trip to visit her aunt, she refused to renounce her US citizenship. Japanese customs repulsed her. She longed for hamburgers and Coca-Cola in her comfortable California home.

***

Thirty-two years, six of them in prison for treason, later, President Gerald Ford pardoned Iva Toguri D’aquino, also known as Tokyo Rose.

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Click!

30 September 2016

Published September 28, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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It’s not exactly an excerpt but a snippet tweaked to be a teaser to my book From Silt and Ashes.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PRELUDE TO AN ODYSSEY

After weeks of contemplation and numerous entreaties from Dr. Trubachov in Ukraine, Dr. Nikolai Derevenko tendered his resignation to St. Thomas Hospital. As he left the administrator’s office he felt one of his burdens had lifted.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

An attractive nurse whose dimensions stretched her starched uniform to its limits cocked her head and flashed a dimpled smile. He followed her with his eyes to the other end of the corridor until she turned and entered a patient’s room.

When he returned to his original path he looked up in time to avoid a collision with a police officer.

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If you’ve read it and enjoyed please leave a review on Amazon.com. Thank you.

23 September 2016

Published September 21, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PINOCHLE CHARLIE’S DAUGHTER

Rose Borach’s heart sank. “Fania, don’t quit school. You’re too smart to end up like your worthless father.”

“I won’t.” The skinny seventeen-year-old glided across the room with the grace of a ballerina. “My grades stink and I’m still in the eighth grade.” She sang, “Give my regards to Broooaddwaaay!” With an exaggerated curtsy, she kissed Rose’s cheek. “Someday you’re gonna see my name in lights.”

“What name? Borax? Jenny Waters? Muddy Waters?”

***

Two years later in 1910, nineteen-year-old Fania burst through Rose’s door and flashed her newly signed contract. “Look, Ma, I’m in the Ziegfeld Follies. Me! Fanny Brice!”

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For those not familiar with this great lady of the theater, may I introduce on of my childhood heroes.