9 February 2018

Published February 7, 2018 by rochellewisoff

“Reciprocity is the glue that holds communities together.” – Neil MacDonald

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PHOTO PROMPT © JS Brand

Please be respectful and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.

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Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

FREESTYLE

Yellow Tangs and Blue-violet perch floated before Elise, unconcerned by her presence. Sunrays beamed through the crystal ceiling, illuminating purple fan coral that swayed to and fro like dancers. Palming the water, she somersaulted and dove deeper, chasing schools of glistening fish.

She flipped again, but before she could right herself, long tendrils of seaweed twisted around her wrists and ankles. Try and tug though she might, the plants held tight.

With a gasp, she woke amid tangled blankets and bedsheets. “Roger Miller was right. You can’t roller-skate in a buffalo herd and you can’t go swimming in queen-size bed.”

*

And Just for Fun 😉 😀

2 February 2018

Published January 31, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Please be considerate to your fellow writer/readers and keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you.

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The crunch is on. I’ve started putting a manuscript together for A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. So most of my writing energy these days is going into the short stories and excerpts for the book. The following is a tweaked excerpt from FROM SILT AND ASHES that’s cut down from the version that’s going in the next book. That made perfect sense, right?

Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1904

Word Count: 100

DOORPOST

Havah traced the shin, the first letter of the word Shaddai, Almighty on the weathered tube on her door jamb with her index finger. The mezuzah was one of the few things she managed to salvage from the ruins of her village.

She remembered how David, then thirteen, spent hours carving the wood. Careful not to crack it, he hollowed out a place to insert the parchment scroll inscribed with Torah verses. How had it survived? She brought her fingertips to her lips and kissed them, remembering her brother’s face.

“Sweet David, your words have I hidden in my heart.”

*

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

David and Mendel Cohen Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

FUROR

Published January 29, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman visits Bristol in the southwest of England. This week’s location was suggested by the talented and inspiring Kelvin M. Knight, blogger and flash fiction ninja. If you haven’t already, wander over and check out his blog.

Your mission is to write a 150-word story, poem, or essay inspired by this week’s location. You’ll find both photo spheres and streetview to inspire you. Once your piece is polished, please share it with other Pegman contributors using the link up below.

It has been one majorly busy weekend with an unexpected trip to the ER and a whole day lost. Here it is Monday morning…still catching up on Friday Fictioneers and posting a late Pegman story. What am I meshuggeh? On the other hand, the following tweaked snippet from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN puts me closer to having A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY completed. So it’s all good, right? Of course right!

Colston Hall in Bristol taken in 1917

Genre: Historical Fiction (Vienna 1908)

Word Count: 150

FUROR

Deep satisfaction surged through Ulrich. Four-year-old Rachel enthralled audiences across Europe, from Colston Hall in Bristol, to, just days before, in Vienna’s Musikverein.

“Rachel is a magnificent talent,” said Catherine.

“A prodigy. My little Mozart.”

The steady clop of the horses’ hooves along the cobblestones lulled Ulrich as they made their way around the circular courtyard called the Schwarzenbergplatz.

He stopped the carriage. “The famous Hochstrahlbrunnen fountain.”

“It’s simply gorgeous!”

In the midst of a large round pool, a geyser-like fountain spotlighted from below illuminated the night sky, by turns, with purple, blue, yellow, green and red.

A strident voice split through the peaceful water’s swooshing. A rail-thin youth gestured with the fervor of one addressing thousands rather than one equally scrawny youngster.

“These strange ones with their ugly language that sounds like snuffles and squeaking and their odd dress have no place here. We are Germans. ‘Deutschland über alles!’”

Child prodigy © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Catherine Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Ulrich Dietrich © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Hochstrahlbunnen fountain © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

19 January 2018

Published January 17, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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“The key to building an audience is reading and commenting others’ works.” Russell Gayer

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

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As the new year has begun, I need to concentrate on my coffee table book. (I hope you’re not tired of hearing about it.)

There are always those scenes on the cutting room floor. Here’s one that didn’t make it into AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. It’s edited from over 200 words as well. The lesson to be learned here is ‘never throw anything away.’ 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A TIME TO LAUGH

Guilt niggled Havah for watching Vaudeville at Electric Park on the Sabbath. But didn’t the Book say laughter is good for the soul?

Jugglers wearing gaudy costumes spun plates on sticks. Acrobats in skintight outfits flipped in midair.

Havah marveled when the magician made a pair of turtledoves appear out of nowhere.

“It’s called sleight of hand.” Itzak shrugged. “He probably had them stuffed in his trousers.”

“Who cares? He’s amazing!”

Next the trickster’s dog pointed to letters on cards with his paw to spell out his name—P-I-L-U.

In a stage whisper, Itzak said, “Glad his name isn’t Constantinople.”

Kansas City’s Electric Park circa 1900

Mrs. Havah Gitterman

Itzak Abromovich

Coming soon!

12 January 2018

Published January 10, 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 © Victor and Sarah Potter

Out of consideration for your readers/fellow writers, please keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you and shalom.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WEB OF THE ABSURD

“It’s a great role, awesome potential,” said Fred. “Who knows? Could make you a star.”

Apprehension flooded Adam. “I’m trying to have a serious career.”

“You call spaghetti westerns and chocolate milk commercials serious? C’mon, kid, whaddya got to lose?”

“All right, it can’t hurt to read the script.”

Weeks later, Adam slid tights over his muscular legs. “No one’s going to buy this.”

Securing the long cape, he flexed his toned pectorals and grinned at his reflection through his cowl’s eye openings. “Not bad.”

As Adam West emerged from his dressing room, Burt Ward shouted, “Holy guano, it’s Batman!”

*

Here’s one of those commercials that led to the creation of an icon:

Toodle-loo, Mr. West.

The Dynamic Duo: Burt Ward as Robin & Adam West as Batman

Hey!

MOST HOLY PLACE

Published January 6, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week, Pegman takes us to the cradle of civilization: Tel Saki, Syria. The country has been at war longer than Pegman has been mapping, so the pictures are confined to photo sphere and often feature shattered lands and cityscapes.

Thanks to J Hardy and his lovely missus Karen for hosting. 😀

I really was going to wait to write a story today, but this photo grabbed me and wouldn’t let go.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

MOST HOLY PLACE

25 October 1973

My Dearest Y’hudit,

This morning, the doctor told me I’ll be home in time for our son’s Brit Milah. Unless he is a she. I would wink but my eyes no longer work.

Why on the holiest of holidays? One minute I’m davening in shul and the next I’m dodging tanks and enemy bullets. No time to break the fast.

I watched our field doctors bind the wounds of Egyptians. “Would Moses do the same?” I asked Baruch Levin, one of our medics.

He replied, “Talmud teaches, ‘He who saves one life… is as if he saves an entire universe.’ On the battlefield no life that can be saved should be lost.”

Later, one of his grateful patients blew Baruch’s righteous head off. It was the last thing I saw…forever.

I’m sorry to burden you, my beloved. I hope you can still love me.

Eem ahavah,

Amitai

Glossary

Brit Milah – Rite of Circumcision, performed when a baby boy is eight days old.

Davening – Praying

Shul – Orthodox term for synagogue

Eem ahavah – With Love

5 January 2018

Published January 3, 2018 by rochellewisoff

“Reciprocation is the glue that holds this community together.” Neil MacDonald

Remember : “It’s not what you’re looking at that matters, it’s what you see.” Henry David Thoreau

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 © Roger Bultot

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Although we think of arranged marriage as something that happened in Fiddler on the Roof, many cultures still adhere to the custom today, including Ultra Orthodox Jews. The following is a scene from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. The year is 1902 and takes place in a little village in Eastern Europe.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BEHIND THE VEIL

“Mama?”

White satin gleamed in the lamplight. Straightening to ease the ache wracking her spine, Fruma Ya’el set the gown aside.

“What’s troubling you, child?”

“This wedding’s a mistake.” Gittel knelt and laid her head in Fruma Ya’el’s lap.

Fruma Ya’el’s heart ached for her girls. Any fool could see Havah and Arel had fallen in love. What could she do? Betrothal papers were signed years ago.

She combed her fingers through Gittel’s auburn hair. “Some things cannot be changed. Arel’s love for you will grow over time, as will yours for him. You believe this don’t you?”

“Do you?”

Havah Cohen- Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Fruma Ya’el -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Arel Gitterman -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Gittel Levine - Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

50 Happy Things 2018: Bloggers Unite to Flood the Internet With Gratitude

Published January 2, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Thanks to Dawn Landau for making Gratitude a New Year’s Tradition. I’m happy to be taking part once more.

“For the fourth year in a row, this is an opportunity to hit pause and focus on all the good things that each of us has in our lives. The holiday season has a way of rushing in, every year, and making it hard to remember that throughout the year, there are blessings. There are so many things that bring joy, so many happy things; yet it’s easy to find to lose sight of this fact, as we manage busy lives.”

To take part, set your timer for ten minutes and write 50 things you are grateful for. Once I started it was hard to stop.

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My home – just celebrated our tenth year in our dream home.
My husband – 46 years of marriage.
My 3 sons who have all grown to be men I’m proud of.
My granddaughter Olive
Her new sister Elsie born on my dad’s birthday, 12 November 2017
Olive’s adorable dog, Poppy
Friday Fictioneers – I’ve made so many friends through sharing stories, learning how similar we are in our hopes and dreams no matter where we’re from.
What Pegman Saw…I took part in it this past year. Nice to have a different prompt and 50 extra words to play with.
My health
A nearby place to swim
The joy of swimming a mile, flip turning at each end of the pool
Counting backwards in Hebrew and Spanish to keep track of my pool lengths
My elliptical trainer for those times it’s too cold to get out of the house
A good hot shower after a hearty workout
A warm cozy room that serves as office and studio
Strong, hot black coffee in the wee morning hours when it’s still dark outside
My G-d who speaks in a still small voice during those quiet times
Abundance of healthy foods
A sense of humor, the ability to laugh at myself
My friends and family who’ll laugh at me if I don’t.
My synagogue
My dancing friends on our synagogue dance team
My rabbi, who knows the value of a good pun
My blogging friends
The internet and Skype friends around the globe
The ability to make people happy with my writing and art – I say this with gratitude for the feedback from others
My 6-speed Chevy Cruz that’s paid for
No longer having to punch a clock and the privilege of doing what I dreamed of doing as a child, ie being a professional artist
Some successful book signings and art fairs.
A growing number of art commissions.
Books to read and lose myself in
Music, all kinds (I won’t deny it, I love classical…particularly Chopin).
Being able to read and write Hebrew (more or less)
Taking time to enjoy the quiet
Good paintbrushes
My computers: desktop and laptop
Legs that still work
Smelling fragrances and odors, it means my olfactories works
The color PURPLE
Other colors beside purple 😉
The fresh smell after a rainstorm
Flowers, Daffodils being my favorite
My muse who tells me stories when I least expect it
My spinning mind that decides to go into overdrive when I want to sleep.
A good Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc
Gluten free pasta so I don’t feel deprived
Ozarks Writers League – OWL
All of my Wisoff cousins I never knew I had until we discovered each other online
Friends I’ve known since early childhood. It’s a rare blessing to share pictures of grandchildren with the same ‘kids’ I used to play hopscotch with
I can still turn a cartwheel.

29 December 2017

Published December 27, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Our Mantra

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The following is an edited version of a poem I wrote in the 90’s while battling severe depression and anorexia nervosa which is about control. I thought I was in control but, almost too late, realized the demon was controlling me. To sort through my confusion I wrote poetry as a means of journaling. Happily, this is no longer my reality, but at the time…

Genre: Adverse Verse

Word Count: 100

VICIOUS CYCLE

Knotted cords surround my thoughts

Like twine that binds a package;

Profusion of convolution, confusion

No solution

Seeking resolution, absolution.

I’m choking

On the dry bread of shame.

And I’m left no choice

But to savagely purge myself.

Cathartic poison,

Painful comfort.

I run a perilous race

To a fatal finish line.

Lethal, venomous humiliation besieges me.

The sins of the forefathers,

Cousins, babysitters and uncles

Devour and bury.

The demon lures and captures me

In his serpentine embrace.

Too weary to resist seduction,

I relinquish and surrender.

Profusion of convolution, confusion

No solution

Seeking resolution, absolution

To what conclusion?

PRELUDE TO SUCCESS

Published December 23, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Ho Ho Ho! This week Pegman takes us to the town of North Pole, Alaska in the USA.

Though it appears Santa’s workshop is near, you’re not obligated to write a Christmas-themed story or poem. The spirit of Pegman is to write 150 words inspired by your own tour of the location. Wander around and chose your own screenshot, if you like.

Once you’ve created your story, add it to the InLinkz using the button below. Sharing, reading, and commenting on other stories is part of the fun.

Many thanks and Merry Christmas to Karen and Josh who facilitate this challenge.

North Pole, Alaska

This week I took a five-year-old Friday Fictioneers story out of mothballs, expanded it and made a few changes. Those 50 extra words can be a delightful game changer. 😀

Genre: Holiday Spirit

Word Count: 150

Dedicated to my friend, John Schuech. If Santa Claus does exist, it’s in this man’s huge heart. ❤

PRELUDE TO SUCCESS

“Failure.”

Isn’t that what Tiana said when she’d flung her clothes into a suitcase? “I can’t take any more. Call me if you ever get your act together.”

Since he’d come back from Iraq, Emmet had been plagued with nightmares and had made four suicide attempts. He’d lost three jobs this year alone.

“Try it,” said his buddy John. “It’ll do wonders for you.”

Combing his prematurely white hair, he glared at his weary bearded reflection. He couldn’t blow this gig.

***

His footsteps echoed down the sterile hallway. How long had he spent in this place being stitched back together?

Stopping at room 223, he pushed open the door and tiptoed to the bed. Feeding tubes and IV’s snaked around the slumbering child.