20 April 2018

Published April 18, 2018 by rochellewisoff

*Note: This marks the third week we will be on our road trip from Kansas City to Los Angeles and back again. This has been posted ahead. Thank you for understanding my slowness to read and comment.

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 © Douglas M. MacIlroy

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Please be considerate of the over 70 weekly participants and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.

The following story is a rerun from November 2014, so many of you will remember it, some of you won’t. However I did use a different prompt at the time. To visit Click Here

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

IN AN EARLIER LIFE

“Too much studying will ruin you. Carpe Diem. Let’s play catch.” Ted grabbed Douglas’ notebook and pressed a pie tin into his hand.

“Catch? With this?”

“From the Frisbie Pie Company. It’s all the rage on campus.”

For the next hour Douglas forgot about Yale, final examinations and commencement. Tension from late nights hunched over text books lifted off his shoulders and a sense of euphoria filled him as he and Ted flung the whirling dish back and forth.

“This is bound to become a national sport,” cried Douglas.

“Tin Tossing Tournaments?”

“Why not?”

“School’s finally driven you mad, MacIlroy.”

With Doug, in Kansas for a disc golf tournament in 2016. I think I was standing on a step.

13 April 2018

Published April 11, 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 © Yarnspinnerr

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Week 2 of our road trip. Expect delays.

Please be considerate of the over 70 weekly participants and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

YING’S THING

David Kaminsky pressed his nose against the soot-covered window of the Brooklyn tenement. Then, bowing his head, he studied his bar mitzvah reading. “This Saturday, I’ll be a man.”

“You’ll always be my baby. Someday, you’ll sing. You’ll dance. Now drink your milk.”

______

“She was so proud of me that day,” he told his wife as he stirred peapods and chicken in a mammoth wok. Light limned his red hair and his mother’s wedding band on his pinkie.

“She would be proud of you this day, too,” said Sylvia Kaye. “There’s no better chef in the universe than my Danny.”

*Ying’s Thing was the name Danny Kaye gave his Chinese kitchen. Who nu? 😉

This multi-talented performer was one of the mainstays of my childhood. I confess that I borrowed his given name for a character in my third novel AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN.

DANIEL KAMINSKY
Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

To know more about Mr. Kaye, Click Here

And Here

DELIVERANCE

Published March 31, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Nigeria. Feel free to use the location chosen or chose from one of the many photo spheres available throughout the country of Nigeria. if you drift over to Lagos along the southwest shore, you’ll also be able to take a streetview.

The Pegman challenge is to write 150 words inspired by this week’s location. Will it be historical fiction? Fantasy? Contemporary? Or does the location bring out your poetry muse? It’s up to you. When your piece is polished, please share a link to it at the linkup below:

Although the photo I chose is from the Pegman buffet and is the Garura Waterfall in Nigeria, I traveled far afield. What can I say? Tis the season when a Jewish princess’ thoughts turn to Moses, Matza and Maror (bitter herbs). Enjoy! Chag Samayach (Happy Holiday) Whether you celebrate Passover, Easter or all or none of the above.

As always, many thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting the Pegman Party.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

DELIVERANCE

Yosi pushed at the door, but before he could open it, his mother shoved him aside and shouted, “No! Not tonight. It’s not safe.”

Yosi’s lower lip quivered. His black curls clung to his forehead. “Your cooking makes me hot.”

Dafna whisked him into her arms, kissed his cheek and sat him on the floor beside the infant who slumbered peacefully in her basket. “You must watch your sister for me while I gather our belongings for our journey.”

“Why are we leaving Egypt? Where are we going? Why is this night different?”

“So many questions, Yosi, my firstborn son?” Oriel dripped lamb’s blood on the doorpost. He smiled and shrugged. “Someday you’ll understand and teach your own children.”

***

Forty years later, Yosi recalled the parting of the Reed Sea and prepared the Passover in the Promised Land.

“Abba,” Yosi’s son asked, “Why is this night different from all others?”

PASSOVER EXPLAINED

***

COMING SOON!

30 March 2018

Published March 28, 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 © Fatima Fakier Deria

My weekly admonition to over 70 participants. Please keep your stories to 100 words or less. Thank you for your consideration.

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

SUITABLE FOR FRAMING

I spent my twelfth summer with my aunt and uncle in Monticello, NY.

Uncle Harold won my heart, not just because he showered me with attention and frozen custard, but because he was an artist. While he never achieved national acclaim, he did win a few awards in local shows for his impressionistic works.

I cherish memories of painting with him on the patio.

“A masterpiece,” he proclaimed my robin watercolor.

Today, as I put the finishing touches on my latest opus, I almost hear Uncle Harold say, “Good job! Let’s go for a frozen custard. Don’t tell Aunt Lu.”

***

Nothing fictitious about this story. 😉

This painting holds a special place in my office/studio.

Never heard of frozen custard? CLICK HERE

I personally favored chocolate.

A MOTHER’S GIFT

Published March 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Yellowstone National Park in the US. You’ll find both streetview and photo spheres to inspire you. Choose any place within Yellowstone and write 150 words inspired by it. Once your piece is polished, you can share it with others at the link up below:

Many thanks to our tropical travelers Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge.

There were so many gorgeous photos to choose from.

This week I took an old tale out of storage. It was one of my first Friday Fictioneers stories in 2012 (when I was still just one of the gang) and, to this day, is one of my favorites. Fifty extra words afforded me the opportunity to flesh it out a bit.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

A MOTHER’S GIFT

“Walk with me now.” Wind Woman squeezed her daughter’s hand. “It’s time you meet your mother.”

Red Fawn burned with impatience. Any other time she would love to listen to Wind Woman’s many stories. They had given Red Fawn’s childhood life and song.

Today she thought only of her warrior’s raven-black hair and bronzed arms encircling her. Of all the maidens in her clan, he’d chosen her.

Following behind Wind Woman, Red Fawn pouted. “You’re my mother.”

“You must know your birth tribe. Your children must know.”

At the top of the hill the older woman pointed to two burial mounds. “When we found them, he was dead. She laid you in my arms. Then she died.”

Wind Woman’s dark eyes brimmed. She pressed her palms against Red Fawn’s cheeks. “Hair like fire. Eyes like sky. The Great Spirit gave you to me. Tomorrow I give you to Iron Wolf.”

23 March 2018

Published March 21, 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 © Björn Rudberg

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As always, please be considerate to your fellow fictioneers and keep your story to 100 words or less. This does not include the title. Thank you and Shalom.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

TURN THE PAGE

“Happy birthday!” Grandma sang out in her Kentucky drawl. “G’wan, child, open your present.”

Heart thumping, Karen tore open the colorfully wrapped package. “I hope it’s my Cabbage Patch doll! Oh boy, it’s—” She fought tears.—“Tom Sawyer by M-mark Twain. Thank you.”

Grandma’s eyes flashed. “Disappointed, aintcha?”

“No, I…”Karen braced herself for a ‘when I was your age’ story.

“Betcha never heared o’ the Pack Horse Librarians.”

“Huh-uh.”

“Not many have, I reckon. In the Great Depression, them valiant ladies braved hell and high water on horseback just so’s us hill kids could have something to read.”

*

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16 March 2018

Published March 14, 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 © Ted Strutz

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My weekly admonition to over 70 participants. Please keep your stories to 100 words or less. Thank you for your consideration.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

READY FOR MY CLOSEUP

Addie beamed. “Isn’t my little girl just the prettiest thing?”

“Her ears are a bit large,” said Addie’s mother Bertha.

Glory’s ruffled skirt flared as she skated along the sidewalk way ahead of the other children. Puffs of ribbon adorned her glossy hair and covered her ears.

“You spoil her.”

“Glory is special.” Addie shrugged.

“She’s a daydreamer. Her marks in school are deplorable. What can the future possibly hold for such a child?”

Not many years later, Addie Swanson once more beamed with pride when Gloria’s image graced the screens of movie theaters from one coast to the other.

*

The actress as a child

*

Gloria Swanson 1899-1983

PILGRIMAGE

Published March 11, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Abaco, Bahamas. You won’t find much in the way of streetview out in this neck of the Bahamas. Mainly because you won’t find much in the way of streets. You can use the photo provided, or dangle Pegman over the map to find your own slice of paradise.

Your mission is to write 150 words inspired by what you find. Will you treat us to comedy? Tragedy? Sci Fi Slipstream Historical Fiction? Your only limit is your imagination. And of course the previously mentioned 150 words. Once you’ve polished your story-poem-essay, share it with other Pegman contributors using the link up below.

The pictures of the beaches and the ocean took me back to the Virgin Islands where I fell in love with snorkeling 😀 My story has absolutely nothing to do with that. 😉 As always thank you to Karen and Josh for facilitating the challenge that keeps drawing me in for the extra 50 word plunge.

Genre: Speculative Fantasy

Word Count: 150

PILGRIMAGE

“You never cease to amaze me,” said Dale.

Shrugging my blazing shoulders, I replied. “You mean my faulty memory? Oy, I wish I’d remembered my sunscreen this afternoon.”

Waves gently lapped the shore as sand and water squished between my bare toes. Moonlight sparkled on the water like sequins under a spotlight.

Dreams of meeting my friend sans Skype screen had finally become a reality. Nights of girl-talk followed days of sightseeing, sampling Bahamian food and snorkeling.

“Thanks for accompanying me to services tonight,” I said.

“Wouldn’t have missed it. I loved the music.”

“The shul’s named after Luis de Torres, Christopher Columbus’ interpreter—first Jew to set foot on the island—a Marrano—convert. 1492 was the middle of the Inquisition so his choices were become a Catholic or—”

“Leave it to you.”

“What?”

“One synagogue, 50 Jews and you managed to find them.”

“Shabbat shalom, mon amie.”

*

Yep, I did find one. Maybe someday I’ll really get to visit it (and Dale) in person.

9 March 2018

Published March 7, 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.

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Please be considerate of your fellow fictioneers. Keep your word count to 100 or less. Thank you.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

HOUSE OF LIFE

I was only a child in 1943, the year my world flipped upside down. The Germans arrested my father. What could my caro papà have done to make him a prime enemy of the Third Reich?

Our neighbor, who was a nurse, took Mammina and me to Fatebenefratelli Hospital. “Dr. Borromeo will take good care of you.”

“But I’m not sick,” I said.

“Anzi, bella, you are very sick with Syndrome K.” Dr. Borromeo assigned us to a room with a sign on the door that read, Altamente Contagioso “Any time you see Wehrmacht uniforms, cough like you are dying.”

*

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Fatebenefratelli Hospital

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

Published March 4, 2018 by rochellewisoff

There is a road some fifty-three miles NNE of New York City with a strange reputation. This week, Pegman has stranded you there.Volumes have been written about Clinton Road in West Milford, NJ, but you only need to write 150 words. The only limit is your imagination.Feel free to capture your own streetview. If you’re not up to a weird tale, feel free to wander anywhere within the state of New Jersey for your story.Once your 150 words are polished, you can share with other contributors using the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge that gives me 50 more words to play with. 😉

While the photo below is taken from the Pegman Buffet, I must confess, despite the directives, I didn’t stay in New Jersey. I went to Rickey Road in Raytown, Missouri, where, as with Clinton Road, the stories abound.

Genre: Fictionalized Memoir

Word Count: 150

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

I looked forward to my troop’s wilderness excursions. Had it not been for scouting, I might never have seen the great outdoors beyond my backyard. My parents, while not religiously observant, adhered to the eleventh commandment—“Jews don’t camp.”

Overnights were the best. Following an afternoon of dodging poison ivy and climbing hills, we’d gather around the campfire. Our mouths and fingers gooey from roasted marshmallows, we topped off the day with ghost stories about the infamous and spooky Rickey Road.

“My uncle found a man’s head in the grass,” said Lucy in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooo,” we’d giggle. “Gross!”

Margo’s cheeks glowed in the blaze. “It opened its eyes and screamed, ‘I want my golden arm!’”

Our childish imaginations kicked into overdrive. Each storyteller sought to outdo the last.

Back home in my own bed, I wouldn’t sleep for a month without a nightlight.

I miss those good times.

*********