AUTOMATIC BLUES

Published October 20, 2014 by rochellewisoff

I GOT THEM STEADILY DEPRESSING, LOW DOWN MIND MESSING, MY CAR’S IN THE SHOP AGAIN, BLUES.

This past year has not been the best year for my car. In fact I’m beginning to think it’s the incarnation of the Li’l Abner character with a cloud over his head. Remember him? For those of you who don’t…never mind.

In the midst of our frigid Missouri winter, my Chevy Cruz’s heater went out. So it spent some time in the shop. Due to the lack of a small part that had to be ordered my car was MIA longer than expected.

My joy at being back in my little car was short lived. The day after getting it back it died in the parking lot after work. This time it had to be towed to the dealership but not before I spent an hour in the car keeping warm and bandying words with the dingbat at the dispatch center. It seems she sent the tow truck driver to Lee’s Summit, Missouri when I’d specifically told her I was at 23^rd and Lee’s Summit Road in Independence, Missouri.

After another week in the shop, my car was returned in perfect working order. End of story? I wish.

About a month ago, on the way to work, a deer on a suicide mission ran out in front of me. While I was shaken by it, I wasn’t hurt and the car was drivable. Thank God for insurance and a $100 deductible.

Front end after hitting the deer.

A week ago last Thursday we were on our way home from an event when the driver of an SUV decided he needed our lane on the freeway as well as his own. He sideswiped us and barreled down the road not so gently into the rainy night.

Of course, the car’s back in the shop. Because we filed a police report and it’s a clear case of hit and run it won’t count against us on our insurance. I’m also grateful to be here. It could’ve been so much worse.

My story doesn’t end here.

I’m part of a dying breed of people in the United States who prefer a standard transmission as opposed to an automatic.

It wasn’t always so, but circumstances thirty-five years ago dictated.

When Jan taught me to drive a stick he assured me coordinating my left foot and right hand would become second nature. I had my doubts as I popped the clutch and bounced down the street like a rubber ball.

It happened as he said, though not overnight, it happened. Since then every car, I’ve owned has been a standard.

Ever hear of a loaner car with a standard transmission? I shouldn’t complain, right? It could be worse. At least I have a car.

An automatic requires intense concentration. When coming to a stop, my left foot trembles and my right hand wanders aimlessly. More than once I’ve slammed both feet on the brake and nearly catapulted myself through the windshield.

Tonight, I hope, my car’s coming back home, with luck, slightly worse for wear and virtually unwrinkled. I might take her for drive to experience the sheer joy of downshifting to a stop.

I hope my brake lights work.

17 October 2014

Published October 15, 2014 by rochellewisoff

The next photo is the prompt. There’s much to look at. What do you see? Tell me in a hundred words or less. Then click the blue froggy guy after the prompt and link your story URL.

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 99

HIBAKUSHA

When I was five my father opened our home to his widowed aunt.

“Why can’t Obasan live with her own children?” I whined and stamped my foot.

“Pikadon took them,” said Chichi. “We are her children now.”

“But she scares me.”

I soon saw past Obasan’s scarred face. Her stories delighted me. She taught me how to construct flapping birds and intricate shapes from colored paper.

One night she lay down to sleep and returned to the source.

Every year at O-Bon I honor her with mukae-bi, dance and sake.

Her elegant spirit surrounds me like a thousand winds.

.

Pikadon.

O-Bon

3 October 2014

Published October 1, 2014 by rochellewisoff

The following photo is the prompt. Does it speak to you? What does it say?

My story follows the photo and the blue froggy fella. Comments and suggestions appreciated.

Copyright-Kent Bonham

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

REQUIEM IN C MINOR

“You must practice an hour a day,” said Mama. “People will come from miles around to hear you play. You have a gift.”

“I hate the violin,” I yelled. “I don’t want to be a musician.”

Once Mama made up her mind she only heard what she wanted to hear.

What choice did I have? I was only six.

Eight years later Mama’s prediction came true. People came from miles around to hear me play. My music was the last thing they heard on their way to the gas chambers.

Sweet music, the only color in Theriesenstadt, saved my life.

Author’s note for those who may ask how I arrived at this.

At first glance, this photo said nothing to me other than, “Yuck. Where’s the story in this and why did I choose it for a prompt?” At second glance I thought ‘dead bird.’ Nah. Trashed lollipop? Okay, forget about the articles, what about color? I didn’t see much of that. My mind went to the Holocaust, a part of history I think of in shades of gray. (Not the racy novel 😉 ) Next, Terezin, a town in Czechoslovakia that was turned into a ghetto and renamed Theriesenstadt came to mind. There the Nazis made a propaganda film to show the outside world their kind treatment of the Jews, when, in reality, it was a holding place on the road to extermination for most. My research path ultimately inspired me to write REQUIEM IN C MINOR. Thank you for reading.

Shalom,

Rochelle

19 September 2014

Published September 17, 2014 by rochellewisoff

The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Where does it take you? Tell me your story. 😉

NOTE: All are welcome to participate but please tell the story on your blog page not in my comment section.

Copyright – Dawn Q. Landau

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

BY WAY OF JERICHO

“They say the minerals are curative.” My sister pointed to a picture of the Dead Sea. “Come with me.”

“You want salt?” I said. “I’ll buy you a box of Morton’s.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’d rather visit Australia.”

“Be a pal. Think about it.”

___________

“I knew it wasn’t a cure,” my sister whispered from her hospice bed. “I just wanted to visit the Holy Land before I died.”

____________

The water’s buoyancy made it fun for us to swim but I’ll always prefer the Hebrew name Yam HaMelach, Sea of Salt, to Dead Sea.

I swim with her still.

.

“We have returned to the cisterns
To the market and to the market-place
A ram’s horn calls out on the Temple Mount
In the Old City.

And in the caves in the mountain
Thousands of suns shine –
We will once again descend to the Dead Sea
By way of Jericho! “

-from the song “Jerusalem of Gold.”

29 August 2014

Published August 27, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Below is the PHOTO PROMPT. This photo from Madison Woods sent a few squeamish writers running from their keyboards. If you’re an FF veteran, you may already have braved this slimy picture and written a story. It’s perfectly legal to repost or write a new one if you like.

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Madison Woods

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By the time this page goes live I will be on a farm in upstate New York visiting my son and daughter in law. To learn more about what she does click here. I’m told the internet connection isn’t very good up there so chances are I won’t be doing much reading or commenting.

My story is from August 2012 when Madison was queen of this tangled grapevine.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 99

WILD LIFE

Half naked Himba people in Nambia, a sweaty camera crew and millions of TV viewers witnessed our marriage vows.

I willingly followed Trevor up the Himalayas, drank sun-scorched canteen water instead of Cabernet and swatted mosquitos in the Amazon.

In Nepal he slipped on something and narrowly escaped being trampled by a choleric elephant.

“I’m done,” he whispered later. “Let’s go home.”

“You are my home.”

Back in the states, safe from cheetah attacks and hippo stampedes, Trevor’s mangled body lies on a cold steel table. The driver, texting on her cell phone, never saw him cross the street.

As it appeared originally.

15 August 2014

Published August 13, 2014 by rochellewisoff

The next photo is the PHOTO PROMPT

Let it speak to you. Does it tell you a story?

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 99

HOME FIRES BURNING

“Nights are long and my bed ever so cold…”

She stopped writing, crumpled her letter and recalled their conversation the day before he left.

_____

“The last time you went for six months it turned into four years.”

“I am needed there.”

“You are needed here.”

“Debbie, my dearest.” He placed his hands on either side of her face. “Accompany me. You will love London.”

______

Deborah Franklin laid another sheet of parchment on the desk, dipped her quill in the inkwell and wrote.

“Dear Benjamin,

I love you so. Had it not been for my ridiculous fear of the sea…”

.

For more info click here

8 August 2014

Published August 6, 2014 by rochellewisoff

The next photo is the PROMPT. What does it say to you? Step outside your boundaries and let your imagination take wing!

My story follows the blue inLinkz buddy that Ali calls Bracken.

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright-Björn Rudberg

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHEN THE NEED ARISES

It starts with a certain look, and you know it’s over. That’s how it is with Annie and me.

Without saying a word, she tells me what I don’t want to hear. We’ve both suffered too long and she needs to be free.

As we hike to our favorite mountain spot to say goodbye I envision life without her.

“Wish you didn’t have to go, Annie.”

She wags her tail, and feebly licks my hand. I caress her head, press the muzzle of my pistol against it and pull the trigger.

Whoever said men don’t cry was full of shit.

Click Here

1 August 2014

Published July 30, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Friday Fictioneers: Dawn Landau and Amy Reese. Cheers!

The following photograph is the PHOTO PROMPT. What does it say to you?

PHOTO PROMPT- Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

LIFE FLIGHT

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, Gerald?”

“I’d say it’s kinda late to be asking that question.”

Vanessa looked out the oval airplane window and then at the Asian infant in her arms. Her dream come true. She’d traveled ten-thousand miles through tangled red tape to realize it.

“Do you think it will bug him that he doesn’t look like us?”

With an impish grin Gerald scrolled through his iPad until he came to a recent snapshot of the two of them. His blond hair and freckles contrasted her tight curls and chocolate complexion.

“What do you think?”

.

25 July 2014

Published July 23, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Below is the PHOTO PROMPT. Where does it take you? Let your imagination run free, free from the confines of the box. 😉

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

KONG FUZI

Like his imposing father, Qiu towered over most boys his age. Yet, unlike Shuliang He, he preferred serenity to battle.

“Eat.” Zhenzai stroked her son’s cheek and tapped his crooked nose. “Your rice is getting cold.”

He rolled his chopsticks between his thumb and forefinger, his gentle eyes filled with pain and tears.

“Mama, why am I so ugly?”

She hugged him. “Not so.”

“It is so.”

“Listen to me.” She tightened her embrace. “Someday you will be a great teacher.”

“No one will hear me. They will only see my face.”

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”

********

To learn more about Zhenzai click the Chinese calligraphy below.

**It seems that no two articles agreed on every point of the teacher’s life so all should be taken with an extra tablespoon of soy sauce and stirred with the proper chopsticks.

********

“The honorable and upright man keeps well away from both the slaughterhouse and the kitchen. And he allows no knives on his table.”

Kong Fuzi

18 July 2014

Published July 16, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Below is the PHOTO PROMPT. Can you tell me what this photo says to you in a hundred. (Complete story: beginning, middle and end) I dare you to step outside your comfort zone. I double dare you!