18 May 2018

Published May 16, 2018 by rochellewisoff

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FOOTPRINTS

The uniformed matron smiled. “Take off your shoes and tie the laces together so you can find them more quickly after your shower.”

The doors clanked shut behind the child. No cleansing water sprayed from the nozzles.

Cold tile chilled his bare feet. Naked, he shivered and gasped his final breaths.

“Mama! Mama!”

His desperate, silenced voice rattles my soul.

Could he have been another Einstein?

Perhaps he’d have been a storyteller whose words delighted thousands.

The shoe is crumpled and the eyelets are rusted. It fits the palms of my hands—the only evidence of a candle snuffed aborning.

*

TREDEGAR 1911

Published May 14, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Gwynedd, Wales. This week’s location was suggested by regular Pegman storyteller Alicia Jamtaas. Be sure to visit her site and enjoy her flash fiction and poetry over at https://lishwriter.wordpress.com/ Thanks for the great suggestion, Lish!

Your mission is to visit the region via Google Maps, and write (up to) 150 words inspired by the prompt. You can use the photo above, or browse around for your own view anywhere in Gwynedd. There are plenty of photo spheres around Caernarfon Castle, and both street view and photo spheres all over Gwynedd.

Once your piece is polished, you can share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

So here I am late for the party once more. And…while my picture is of a street in Gwynedd, my story takes place in another part of Wales–Tredegar. You may be saying, “Oy, there she goes with the Jewish history again.” 😉 Couldn’t help myself.

As always, thank you to Karen and Josh for facilitating this group of globe trotting writers.

Genre: Historical Fiction (You were expecting maybe vampires?)

Word Count: 150

TREDEGAR 1911

“Why, Adoshem?” Tears streamed from my papa’s eyes and soaked his beard. “Again and again You bring destruction upon us? For this we fled Russia—to be slaughtered in Wales? ‘He has hurled fire into my bones—’” A sob choked his words.

I trembled. The night before I’d hidden under my bed, covering my ears to blot out shouts of, “Get the Jews!” and the crash of shattering windows.

Broken furniture littered the floor. Papa’s sewing machine lay in two pieces. Spools of thread and shredded fabric were strewn everywhere.

Mama’s soft voice cut through the hush. “Danken Gott, we’re alive.”

Papa winced. “For how long. Everywhere the goyim hate us. ”

At that moment a Christian youth entered the shop, head bowed, and gave Papa a banknote. “My father sends his apologies and this to help rebuild.” He took a broom from the floor. “Perhaps I can help.”

CLICK FOR A BIT OF HISTORY

11 May 2018

Published May 9, 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 ©Jill Wisoff

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

The story you are about to read is true. No names have been changed to protect the guilty.

FAMILY TIES

“Wise-off?”

“No. ‘Wiss-off.’ It’s a short ‘i’.”

Very few can pronounce it correctly on the first try. We were the only Wisoffs in Kansas City—probably the world. Talk about feeling like the odd one out.

“Your great-grandparents who came over from Lithuania with 7 children shortened Wissosky,” said Dad. “There are plenty more little Wisoffs running around back east.”

In 1999 thanks to AOL, I met Jill Wisoff who lives in New York City.

Say what you will about the evils of social media, but thanks to my unique surname, I don’t need DNA to find relatives on Facebook.

Click to hear and see a recent reading I did. Sight, sound and four flash fictions.

Some Even Call it Poetry

Published May 7, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Many thanks to Marsha Gershun who, for the third year in a row has organized the CloudBursT at Beth Torah Synagogue in Overland Park, Kansas.

Martha Gershun

This was my second year to participate. Although, only a handful of us turned up, it was a lovely time to share our individual Jewish experience.

Two of my Hebrew students came to support me…Joy and Joie…so you could say it was a joyful experience. 😉 I wish I’d thought to take a picture of the two of them. Alas, I didn’t so you’ll have to take my word for it that they are two very lovely ladies.

Although I would love to have shared a few other readers, my husband’s smartphone could only take so much. So for your watching and listening (hopefully) pleasure, here’s my part of the program. My Friday Fictioneers and other Pegman participants will undoubtedly recognize these pieces.

4 May 2018

Published May 2, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 © Karen Rawson

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THIS HOT MADNESS

Benjamin shoved a notebook under his son’s nose. “What is this mishegoss?”

Although the boy had expected his father’s wrath, he trembled. “They’re my stories, Papa. I’ve decided to become a writer.”

“A sixteen-year-old child decides?” Benjamin shook his fist and thundered. “For this we send you to yeshiva?”

“I make straight A’s in Talmud class. Why can’t a rabbi write fiction, too?”

Benjamin flung the binder to the floor. “Frivolous nonsense!” Pages scattered like dry leaves.

***

In 1967, thirty-eight-year-old Chaim Potok marveled when his debut novel, The Chosen, became a NY Times best seller. “What would Papa say now?”

*

If you have 4 extra minutes and want to know more, CLICK HERE

BEYOND THE WALLS

Published April 30, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman goes to the Great Wall of China. Feel free to choose from photospheres you find anywhere along it’s length. This link will get you started, or you can venture off on your own. No need to stay with your tour group on Pegman tours 😉

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by your tour of the location. You’re welcome to write fiction, essay, poetry, or anything you choose. Once your 150 words is polished, you can share it with other Pegman contributors at the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Thanks, always, to Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge. Great fun!

I wasn’t sure I’d make it back this week. We’re finding it takes a while to re-acclimate after a long trip. At any rate, this story has been brewing for the past couple of days, so, despite my being late for the Pegman party, I post this for those who’ll read.

The photo I chose.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

BEYOND THE WALLS

The letter arrived a few days before my thirtieth birthday. I studied the handwriting. It almost looked like I’d written it myself. Was it a cruel prank or a defining moment?

“No doubt this is terrible timing, but I’ve been searching for you half my life. Your Facebook posts about your poor mum’s dreadful automobile accident, told me I’d found my answer…”

Searching for me? I lived in Missouri, thousands of miles from London. This stranger, named Sally Myers-Hempstead, proposed we make a Skype date.

Ron booted up my laptop. “What’ve ya got to lose, Sis? This might be your answer, too.”

What answer? My adoption had never been a secret. Mom and Dad loved to tell the story of how they went all the way to China for their baby girl.

My mirror image smiled onscreen. “Happy birthday, Sondra!”

I managed to whisper. “Happy birthday to you, too, Sally.”

*

It does happen…quite a bit actually. These two young ladies, adopted by different families were reunited on GMA a couple of years ago. There are many other stories out there, similar to my bit of fiction.

20 April 2018

Published April 18, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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*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.

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.

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. 😉