Love and more love

All posts in the Love and more love category

17 January 2020

Published January 15, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook 

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 © J Hardy Carroll

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STRENGTH IN EACH TEAR

Lula cuddled and sang to her two-year-old son. The doctor’s words echoed through her mind. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. You need a miracle.”

            The screaming prayers of the itinerate preacher beseeching God for a miracle only served to add to Lula’s sorrow. Her baby would never enjoy the beauty of a red rose or a blue sky. Born too soon, the incubator stole his sight.

            “Don’t you worry. We’ll make our own miracle.”  

            Ten years later, Barry Gordy dubbed Lula’s boy Little Stevie Wonder, saying, “Mrs. Morris, your son’s musical gift is nothing short of a miracle.”

10 January 2020

Published January 8, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook 

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 © C.E. Ayr

Click the Camping Frogs to Add your Link!

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

FREESTYLE INSOMNOLENCE

              The clock beside the bed ticked. Zero-dark-thirty. 3:00 AM.

              Sleep refused her while loons mocked. Ted snored away what remained of the night.

            Snozzzz. Tick-snozz. Tick-tick. Snarzzzzzz.

           “I give up!”

            Elise slipped on her swimsuit and stepped outside. Campground lights reflected off the pool water. She dove in and swam until tension floated from her shoulders.

            Ted snored his welcome when she tucked back in beside him. Deliciously drowsy, she checked the clock before drifting off. 5:00.

           Two hours later, he shook her. Sun poured through the windows. “Hey lazybones, gonna sleep all day? How ‘bout a nice invigorating swim?”

2019 Attitude of Gratitude Challenge!

Published January 6, 2020 by rochellewisoff

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Spreading positive vibes throughout the internet.

Four years ago Dawn Q. Laundau of Tales from the Motherland (Click for more details) presented other bloggers with the challenge to spread gratitude throughout the internet. It’s very simple. Take 10 minutes to list 50 or more things you are thankful for. I managed to type 52 before the chicken went off on my iPhone timer. 

  1. My husband of 48 years
  2. My children – 3 grown sons
  3. My granddaughters- 2 adorable little girls.
  4. A contract with Diane Nine, ninespeakers.com for my latest manuscript What the Heart Wants (She said she loves it! Who can ask for better than that?)
  5. I can still do a cartwheel
  6. My regular mile swim and a pool less than a mile from home
  7. Being able to work out regularly
  8. Good health
  9. Painting-love me some watercolors 
  10. Good friends
  11. Art shows
  12. Finding my books on display in a local library
  13. Goat cheese omelets
  14. Reconnecting with my brother Jeff and making the 2nd annual trip to see him in NC
  15. Getting my furry fix with his dogs there
  16. Strong black coffee every morning
  17. A trip to Israel in May
  18. The gift of the trip financed by my cousin Kent
  19. Reconnecting with my first cousin Wendy who moved to Tel Aviv years ago
  20. My brand new, wonderful HP Pavillion desktop.
  21. My HP laptop so I can travel and still write. 
  22. My latest WIP a novel based on my experience with anorexia
  23. My continued recovery from the same
  24. A cozy office
  25. Book club-the opportunity to discuss a book with others
  26. The dance team at my synagogue
  27. KC BBQ none like it on the planet
  28. Blogging friends
  29. Friday Fictioneers – Try it, you’ll like it!
  30. Other blog challenges
  31. Facetime with friends around the world
  32. My printer, Alexis (a person and an artist in her own right) \ who makes my artwork look even better
  33. Good art and book sales in 2019 (not as good as 2018 – but good)
  34. Folk music
  35. Classical music
  36. My little Chevy Cruz, a standard transmission (dying breed that one)
  37. Nieces and Nephews
  38. Typing skills my mother taught me when I refused to take it in school (why did I need to know how to type?-what foresight she had!)
  39. A slightly warped sense of humor or humour, depending on which side of the pond you’re on 😉 
  40. Being able to flip turn in the pool (ecstasy)
  41. Spring and Autumn
  42. Lilacs and daffodils
  43. Eyes to see
  44. A tongue to taste a good Sauvignon Blanc or Cabernet Sauvignon
  45. Indian food
  46. Israeli food
  47. Fresh vegetables and fruits
  48. A woman doctor who understands and supports me
  49. A mother of blessed memory who was a grammar patrolwoman
  50. A muse who shares stories with me.
  51. Being young enough to enjoy life and old enough to remember the 50’s and 60’s…black & white TV’s, rotary phones…good times those.
  52. A blog friend like Dawn who facilitates a Gratitude Challenge.

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN THE FUN!

WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT – LOLLYGAG

Published January 4, 2020 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 the Sammi’s Comment Section.

MY SHINING PALACE BUILT ON SAND

“My candle burns at both ends,” wrote the poet.

I’ll permit neither frustration nor self-doubt to devour me when my compositions seem to go unnoticed. I’ll neither lollygag nor let my keyboard collect dust. No! I’ll last the night and live to write another day. Whether you see it or not, foes or friends, my candle gives a lovely light.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

*Title not included in word count. 😉

* Hint Hint: If you’d care to read something longer please visit my latest story entitled “1942.”

1942

Published January 3, 2020 by rochellewisoff

The following story is written for the following photo prompt provided by Writers Unite!  for their Write the Story  short story challenge. All photos used by WU are public domain and require to attribution. However the story is © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 😉

1942

             When Sylvia uttered, “Hail Mary full of Grace…,” she saw Sister Honorina. With her white veil, blue eyes and round face, she resembled the paintings of the Blessed Virgin with Baby Jesus hanging on the wall of the dormitory Sylvia shared with seven other girls.   

            After praying the Rosary with Sylvia in her gentle Viennese-accented voice, Sister Honorina added the shema. “I promised to your father never to let you forget the words of your ancestors. We say them together now.”

             Sylvia recited the prayer in unison with Sister Honorina both in Hebrew and English exactly the way Papa did. “‘Shema yis’ra’el, Adonai Eloheynu, Adonai echad. Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one.’”

            “Sehr gut. Your Papa, he would be so proud.”

            “When are he and Momma coming back for me?”

            Tears welled up in the nun’s eyes. She dabbed them with her sleeve. “We must leave it in God’s hands.” Tucking Sylvia’s Teddy bear in beside her, Sister Honorina kissed the child’s forehead. “Sleep now, kleine schvester.

            Sylvia curled up on her side, hugging her bear. Frost formed intricate patterns on the window. The way the streetlight outside the convent illuminated them fascinated the eight-year-old. She remembered Papa’s stories about frost-faeries with icicle paint brushes. Closing her eyes, she heard Momma and Papa.

            Momma sounded angry. “You’re filling her head with stuff and nonsense. How’s this equipping her to face a world filled with discord and oppression, Aaron? How?”

            “Esther, she’s only six.”

            “You don’t hear the news? Six-year-olds are being slaughtered in their beds. Babies murdered in their mothers’ arms. No synagogue is safe. No Jewish market. Just like my grandparents in Poland. How long before they throw rocks through our windows?”

            “We’re an enlightened society, Esther. Consider our technological advances. Never again. The pogroms aren’t going to happen here.”

            “My Aaron, the scientist. My Prince Charming who still believes in fairytales. I love you, but you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

            Sylvia shivered and pulled the covers over her head. It happened a year ago. A year after her parents’ argument. Momma’s frightening predictions came true. Sylvia saw their beloved cantor beaten to death—right in the shul, the words of the Kaddish Shalem on his lips. She could still smell the sulfur odor that hung in the air—hear the screams and moans of the dying.

            By some miracle, Sylvia and her parents escaped that Shabbos day, the day the Shoah began in earnest. Many of their neighbors had already gone into hiding. Momma and Papa decided it would be safer for Sylvia to place her with Christians. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she might escape being pegged as a Jew.

            Papa carried her in his strong arms. He smelled of aftershave and chocolate. His heart thumped against her chest. “You will do what the sisters tell you, Silver Girl, do you understand? Even when you think it’s strange.”

            “We will take good care of her, Mr. and Mrs. Green.” Sister Honorina reached for Sylvia. “We’ll allow no harm to come to her.”

            “How can you say that?” Momma stroked Sylvia’s hair. “How can anyone in this godforsaken country make such a promise?”

            Tears streamed down Papa’s stubbled cheek. “Never forget who you are, my daughter.” He placed her in Sister Honorina’s arms. “We’ll be back soon, sweetheart.”

            Momma covered her mouth with her gloved hand. “Oh Aaron.”

            Sylvia reached for Papa. “Pinkie swear?”

            His lips trembled. He engulfed her pinkie finger in his. “As the frost-faeries are my witness.”

            March wind swooshed outside the convent. In the beds across the aisle Elizabeth Nusbaum and Naomi Resnick who were both twelve spoke in stage whispers.

            “Naomi, do you think they took our parents to the death camps?”

            “Probably.” 

            “Girls, shh.” Sister Honorina shone her flashlight on them. “This is not the time to speak of such things.”

            “Seriously? When do we talk about it? After another six million have perished?” Elizabeth bolted upright. “It’s 1942 all over again. I saw it on CNN. There are camps in Colorado and Arizona and more being constructed in New Mexico.”     

  

                

3 January 2020

Published January 1, 2020 by rochellewisoff

            Like us on Facebook 

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.

(However it’s mine…and a rerun. Some may remember it. 😉 ) Since we’re still in the holiday season I’m posting yet another rerun. This one is from January 2013.

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Click the Frog to Join the festivities!

Genre: Autobiography

Word Count: 100

SUNRISE, SUNSET

            Every Sunday my mother dragged me to my grandfather’s house. She urged me to get to know him, learn from him. After all, he’d survived Russia’s pogroms. My family history.

            I feared him and asked no questions. He offered no stories.

            One week mom took a vinyl copy of Fiddler on the Roof for him to hear. His timeworn torso sank into his recliner as he listened to Tevye the milkman sing.

            “If I were a rich man, yaba-deebee-deebee-bum.”

            Fifty years later I still remember how my austere grandfather’s granite-hard eyes transformed to liquid quartz.  “My father sang…just like that.”

***

I chose to share the following version of the song. It’s the one my grandfather listened to.

WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT – COMPLEX

Published December 29, 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 Sammi’s Comment Section.

As always with this prompt, I wrote the first thing that popped into my head. 

When I first began my writer’s journey, someone told me the characters write themselves. I gaffed it off as existential hogwash and hooey until Nikolai Derevenko, intended sidekick, evolved into the most complex character in my trilogy without asking my permission.

Check out my books HERE

Surrealistic Dreams

I live among the broken words...

Kelvin M. Knight

FLASHES of inspiration. SHORT deliberations. STORIES for all.

Na'ama Yehuda

Speech Language Pathologist, Writer, Blogger -- musings, anecdotes, stories, quotes, life lessons and growth

Diane's Ponderings

Psalm 19:1 The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Jellico's Writing Nook

A cup of coffee and a quiet morning respite to write

Penz-o-Paula

Paula Shablo

Lost Imperfect Found

Self-discovery through self-reflection.

Sarah Potter Writes

Pursued by the Muses of prose and poetry

Sammi Cox

Author Aspiring

Neil MacDonald Author

A writer's journey

Autumn Leaves

For those who enjoy fiction

Native Heritage Project

Documenting the Ancestors

Living In Eternity

If Eternity Is Forever, Am I There Now?

Rereading Jane Eyre

Author Luccia Gray

zicharonot

Catskills Memories, Genealogy, travel and commentary

e.l. dalke: survivor

a journey of fractures, in my own words

Creativity for You

Posts about creativity from Thomas Ward, Professor Emeritus of Psychology, University of Alabama.

WHAT PEGMAN SAW

a weekly flash fiction prompt inspired by google maps

Lori Ericson, Author

An author's perspective of mystery and more.

Alyssa Davies

You Can Never Be Overdressed or Overeducated

Write already!

Write, write, write...

The Off Key Of Life

Or….Identifying The Harmless Unhinged Among Us.

What's So Funny?

Russell Gayer, author speaker

%d bloggers like this: