Literary Fiction

All posts in the Literary Fiction category

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Published February 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is back in Europe, visiting the Czech Republic for the first time. You’re invited to stroll the city of Karlovy Vary and choose your own view. Take your inspiration and write no more 150 words. Once your poem, story, or essay is polished, share it with others at the link up below:

I’m a little late to the party this week, but after being MIA for the past two weeks, I’m happy to have made it. 😉 Many thanks to Karen and Josh for their dedication to their growing challenge. I’m pleased to announce that I’m rounding the bend of the final heat for A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. Hopefully it will debut this Spring. 

Here’s the photo I chose from the Pegman Buffet. My story doesn’t exactly take place here but a few kilometers away in Prague.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Shadow monsters chased Franz. Twisted trees and thorny brambles caught his clothes. He snapped open his eyes. Demons vanished like steam over Mother’s cooking pot.

            The wind blustered and howled outside, sounding like shouts of tyrants and wails of children. Franz’s tongue cleaved to the bottom of his mouth.

            He cried out. “May I have a drink of water?”

            “Go back to sleep, you little insect,” his father hollered.  

            “Please, Father, I am so thirsty.”

            “Thirsty are you?” Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Franz opened his eyes. Father loomed over the bed like the ominous forest creatures of his nightmare. Instead of comforting words the child longed for, Father carried him to the balcony. “Never disturb my sleep again.” The door locked behind him.

            Frigid wind whipped through the boy’s thin nightgown. For the rest of his all-too-brief life, Franz Kafka despaired of ever winning his father’s love.

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Click here for more of Kafka

26 January 2018

Published January 24, 2018 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


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Saturday, January 27th is the 73rd anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. The following story is one that I discovered a few years back and never ceases to fascinate me. 

Genre: Realistic Fiction based on a True Story

Word Count: 100

RENOVATION

As he did every morning, Dov Ben Avraham recited the Sh’ma, “Hear O, Yisrael, Adonai is our Lord, Adonai is one.” The Hebrew words from Deuteronomy 6 were sweet to his tongue and uplifting to his heart. After saying his final amen, he added, “Thank you for making me a Jew.”

Later that night, at the synagogue he prepared to tell his story at a memorial dinner to honor those who perished at Auschwitz.

Gazing at a few survivors among the guests, Dov, Dr. Bernd Wollschlaeger, said, “Please forgive me for the sins of my father, a Nazi tank commander.”

 

 Bernd Wollschlaeger, M.D.

 

To see an interview with Dr. Wollschlaeger CLICK HERE

SWIMMING LESSON

Published December 17, 2017 by rochellewisoff

A resounding HAPPY ANNIVERSARY to Pegman. Can you believe it’s been a year already? Many happy returns to Karen and Josh. You’re doing a great job. 

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

This photo didn’t take me to Iowa, but to the back woods of Arkansas. The story is an edited snippet from a story in my short story anthology THIS, THAT AND SOMETIMES THE OTHER which is out of print (save copies still available from the author 😉 ) It’s still available on Kindle. The story is based on one of my husband’s memories of spending summers with his best friend Ray (Francis Ray Stills). We had fun working on the longer version together.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

SWIMMING LESSON

Granny Stillwell’s shack, built into the hills, was propped up on cinderblocks. Another rough-hewn cabin sat just the other side of a vegetable garden. A tire-less, 1940’s pick-up truck, also set on cinderblocks, had been pushed up against one wall “to keep it from a-leaning too much.”

After supper, his stomach full of catfish and rhubarb cobbler, Kenny Lord lazed on the porch and thought about the day.

“Hey, Lordy-Lordy, know how to swim?” 

“No.” 

“Time to learn.”  

He would never forget his terror when Boyce shoved him off the cliff to the Buffalo River 50 feet below. Boyce’s evil laughter filled his ears until water surged up his nose and his panic-stricken lungs blazed.

Kenny seethed. “Boyce better watch his back.”

“He was jest funnin’,’” said Frankie-Ray Stillwell.

Granny spat out a wad of chewing tobacco. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”

Kenny smirked. “That’s me, Kenneth Donald Lord.”

THE SWIMMING LESSON

 

LEGACY

Published November 5, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman walks through  Córdoba, Argentina.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Use it to inspire you however you like. We ask that as a token of respect for your readers that you keep your piece to 150 words or less.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

I didn’t think I’d have time to write for Pegman this week, but when the muse says “write it” I must obey. This week marks the 79th anniversary of Kristallnacht so it’s where my mind and heart went this week. The following story is based on the experience many Jewish descendants (myself included) have had. 

Shalom

This picture from the Cordoba, Argentina speaks ‘olive branch of peace’ to me.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

LEGACY

            Rosita’s grandparents had managed to survive Ravensbrück and Auschwitz. In 1945 they immigrated to South America where they built a new life. Ingrid’s grandfather emigrated from Germany the same year.

            With a myriad of conflicting emotions, Rosita watched the newscast beside her best friend. A bunker had been unearthed in the Argentinian jungle loaded with Nazi artifacts, not too far away.

            Although the apprehension of war criminals in Argentina was hardly news to the twenty-year-old college student, the discovery of the hideout unearthed a hidden truth.  The direct descendant of one of her grandparents’ torturers now begged for absolution.

            “Lo siento con todo mi corazón,” said Ingrid, her fair cheeks wet with tears streaming from her ocean-blue eyes.  

            What an esqueleto to tumble from the armario. Rosita’s heart ached for her friend who was as much a victim as the Jews. What could she say?

            “Perdono con todo mi corazón.”      

Glossary:

Lo siento con todo mi corazon. – I’m sorry with all of my heart. 

Esqueleto – skeleton

Armario – Closet

Perdono con todo mi corazon. – I forgive with all of my heart. 

 

 

 

 

COUNTRY ROADS

Published October 8, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman returns to the Western Hemisphere to take us on a tour of Littleton, West Virginia. Although I missed the challenge last week, a story formed pretty quickly for this one. I’m a day late and see that this group is growing. Nice to see. Thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting. I so appreciate the two of you on more than one level. 😉

To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

This story is dedicated to the forgotten veterans, the women who unassumingly served as nurses and ‘Donut Dollies.’

COUNTRY ROADS

“My dearest Jimmy,

Remember 1971?  We came home from Vietnam that year—the same year John Denver’s song became a hit. I think he must’ve written it with you in mind.  

‘Littleton,’ you laughed, your eyes shining like the stars over the Shenandoah River. ‘It’s just a Podunk town in the middle of nowhere.’

Nonetheless, to you it was home…’almost heaven’.”

Sharon set aside her pen and paper. Picking up Jimmy’s guitar, she strummed the melody and sang, “…West Virginia, Blue Ridge Mountain…” She closed her eyes. “Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains…”

A gentle breeze riffled her hair. “You promised to bring me here after the war. And so you have.”

She folded the note, tucked it inside the guitar and propped it against his headstone. Forever she would carry his face and hear his last words, “Nurse, please don’t let me die.”

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In this image provided by the U.S. Army, the 2nd Brigade was faced with a new problem at their Bien Hoa, Vietnam base: from Fort Rilay to Vietnam come the 93rd Evacuation Hospital complete with nurses on Dec. 19, 1965. The problem of getting a private shower for the girls fell to Company B 1st Engineer Battalion. In the interests of the health, welfare and cleanliness of the nurses, the men of Company B decided to give up their own air-conditioned shower. The dressing area of the shower was boarded up and the entrance-way closed off. An appropriate “Off Limits” sign was made and posted. (AP Photo/U.S. Army)

16 December 2016

Published December 14, 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. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Realistic Fiction with a side of History

Word Count: 100

CONTRA-BUN

            Mary watched the snow blanket the ground and opened her book. “Good reading weather.”

            “Whatcha reading?” Laura pointed over Mary’s shoulder at a picture of a spider on an intricate web. “Neat drawing.”

            “Charlotte’s Web.” Mary showed her the cover. “‘Pictures by Garth Williams.’”

            “Controversial artist,” said Charlie, their older brother, stretching out on the sofa. “The White Citizens Council in Alabama had his book The Rabbits’ Wedding banned from their library in 1958.”

            “Yeah, right.” Mary frowned. “For what?  Excessive cuteness?”

            “Interracial marriage.” Charlie’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “One bunny was white and the other was black.”

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the-rabbits-wedding

Although I was unaware of this controversial book growing up, I loved Garth Williams’ illustrations in the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. His work had a huge influence on my own work. 

little-house-in-the-big-woods

charlottes-web

5 August 2016

Published August 3, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Summer Showcase

Summer is the time for vacations, picnics on the beach and reruns on the telly. For me it has been a time to meet a deadline in July for my third novel in my series entitled AS ONE MUST ONE CAN. These are happy times! The deadline has been met, but there are edits to do and more business ahead. So the Summer Showcase will continue for a few more Fridays. Many thanks to those of you who responded to my plea for your favorite reruns. 

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The following photo is the PROMPT. This week’s retread request is from CEAYR. If you’re one of those who wrote a story for this prompt feel free to re-post it and enjoy the respite. Remember that all photos are private property and subject to copyright. Use other than Friday Fictioneers by permission only. 

Copyright-Ted Strutz

PHOTO PROMPT- ©Ted Strutz

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

Original post from May 2013

HANAI

            I met Kevin online. Our connection began with shared interests and blossomed into more.

            “You should visit in person,” said my sister.  

            “Fat chance. He’s in Hawaii, I’m in Nebraska.”

            Last week I received an airline ticket.

            “Next Saturday. Icon Grill. Seattle.

                                    Aloha,

                                    Kevin.”

***

            He slides into the booth across from me. “You bring it?”

            From my purse I take a faded photograph of twins, a boy and a girl. Korean War orphans. I’ve carried it for forty years.

            His almond-shaped eyes crinkle as he fishes an identical photo from his wallet.

            “Jah-meh, I always hoped to find you.”  

*Jah-meh – Korean for sister

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