DELLA

Published November 25, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Isle of Wight in the United Kingdom. Take a tour of the area and see what inspires you. The only rule is that your submission be 150 words or less. You can capture your own picture of the area or use the one provided.

This week’s location was suggested by GeorgieMoon and and I know you’ll have fun here. Thanks for the suggestion Georgie!

As always, thanks to Karen Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this challenge.

I’ve been MIA from Pegman the past couple of weeks as my coffee table book is taking shape and life has gotten a little hectic. My story has nothing to do with the Isle of Wight and I’m not sure it even has a beginning, middle and end but it’s what is on my mind this morning. You see, my friend passed away just last night. I don’t post this to garner your sympathy, but to tell you about one of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the privilege to know. She leaves in her wake others who can and, I’m sure, will echo my sentiments.

Genre: Eulogy

Word Count: 150

DELLA

The heart has a revolving door, doesn’t it? People come and go, some for longer periods than others. Then there are those who take up permanent residence. We may not see them every day or even call them to chat but they are always there.

She and I had that kind of relationship. A year, even two, could go by, yet, when we met for an occasional coffee, we picked up where we left off.

Her name meant bright or noble. No one else embodied those words in quite the same way. She was the pillar of faith, spirit of wisdom and voice of reason. I never saw her waiver or even slow down.

82 years young? No! She was ageless.

To refer to her in the past tense is unfathomable. Her influence, as my second mother and friend, as long as I walk this earth, will be ever present.

Della on her 80th birthday

24 November 2017

Published November 22, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Wrote a longer piece? Don’t think you can cut it back? The following excerpt from my second novel FROM SILT AND ASHES turned flash fiction was originally 308 words long. Obviously that would go way over the word limit. So, first I had to decide what I want to say in 100 words. Once I decided, I tweaked some of the sentences to fit and lost four other characters in the chapter. 😉 Naturally it’s my hope that this will whet your appetite to read the longer version, ie the book and, perhaps the trilogy. I thank you. Havah thanks you. 😀

Genre: Historical Fiction (circa 1905)

Word Count: 100

A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND

A pile of torn paper remained on the floor where Rachel had been playing. Havah’s anxiety mounted. She only turned her head for a moment.

What if her blind toddler meandered out into the path of an oncoming automobile?

Kreplakh cocked her head, barked and scampered around Havah’s feet.

“You fell down on the job, you stupid mutt. Rachel! Rachel!”

Kreplakh ran to the closet and scratched at the door.

“You want in there?” Havah yanked it open and sank to her weakened knees.

There in the laundry basket, amid petticoats and linens, thumb in mouth, slept little lost Rachel.

Rachel Esther Gitterman

Kreplakh, self appointed service dog

Mrs. Havah Gitterman

Book II of Havah’s Trilogy

17 November 2017

Published November 15, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

LAST RITES

Grandma Tollard met Jeannie at the front door, her long grey hair askew. She seized Jeannie’s arm with one bony hand. “Thank you for coming, dear.”

“What happened?”

“I…we, that is…he…he had a heart attack and—”

“Did you call 911?”

“—he’s dead. I called Fr. Jenson.”

Grandma clutched her lace peignoir robe at the neck and led Jeannie to the bedroom. Biting her quivering lip, Jeannie pulled the sheet over her grandfather’s grinning countenance.

She wrapped a comforting arm around her weeping grandmother.

Grandma sniffed. “I’ll never forget his final words to me.”

“What were they?”

“‘Hi-ho Silver!’”

Many thanks to my BFF Jeannie O’Hare for her generosity in allowing me to share her strange but true family stories. Some things just can’t be made up…but they can be embellished.

Jeannie and me

To hear my interview on Impact USA radio last week CLICK HERE

10 November 2017

Published November 8, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FOR THE DEAD AND THE LIVING, WE MUST BEAR WITNESS *

I remember it like it was yesterday—November 9, 1963 in Chicago, my father took me downtown to celebrate my 10^th birthday.

His German accent sounded like music. “Vhere shall ve go, schatzi?”

“The Art Institute.”

I skipped along the sidewalk, holding his hand. He stopped and went to his knees in front of a synagogue. Slipping off his hat, he covered his face. The sun limned his blond waves.

“What’s wrong, Vati?”

“Meine Schande. Those magnificent windows—shattered! 25 years ago today. Schweinehund! Jewish businesses—destroyed! What did I do? Die Nill! I—I stood by and did nothing.”

*Quote from Elie Wiesel

79 years ago this week.

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.

3 November 2017

Published November 1, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Once more another excerpt from my trilogy as I prepare the coffee table companion book, A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. Designed for those who like art and very short stories. 😉 This is an excerpt from the third in the series, AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. A little background for those unfamiliar. The menorah in the story is a ‘character’ of sorts. Crafted by Yussel’s father, it has survived the pogroms and the long journey to America.

Genre: Historical Fiction circa 1907

Word Count: 100

FAMILY HEIRLOOM

Arel scowled. “Lev, where’ve you been?”

“The library, I—”

“You missed supper.”

Havah grasped Arel’s arm and whispered, “Please let him explain.”

“My house. My rules.” Arel slapped Lev, knocking Yussel’s menorah off the table.

The ground listed beneath Havah’s feet.

Lev gasped.

Yussel cried out, dropped to his knees and searched with trembling hands until he found the broken pieces. He hugged them to his chest. Tears quivered in his sightless eyes.

“It’s only one branch, Papa.” Havah knelt beside him. “Surely it can be fixed.”

“Once a limb is severed can the tree be made whole again?”

Arel Gitterman

Coming soon!

Mrs. Havah Gitterman

October’s End

Published October 31, 2017 by rochellewisoff

The weekend, beginning with Thursday, the 26th was busy one. It began with an interview with Jim Christina and Russ Avison on The Writers Block. Some will remember that I had the joy of going out to California to interview in the studio with them last November. The opportunity just didn’t present itself this year so we muddle through via telephone. Nonetheless, I had a great time.

Here is the link with Jim’s generous intro: 😀

Russ and I had a great conversation with author and artist Rochelle Wisoff Fields last evening. An informed writer and unique historian of early 1900’s Russia and the US. Giver her books a read! Here is the podcast address: http://latalkradio.com/content/writer-102617%20#audio_play

It’s an hour long and 40 minutes of it is Yours Truly. I hope you’ll take the time to listen.

Russ Avison

Jim Christina

Finding Cure Through Literacy

Friday morning we hit the road at 5:00 AM to make the long drive to Texarkana for the 8th Annual Gathering of Authors, a charity event and book signing. The festivities were kicked off with benefit banquet. All proceeds were to go to St. Jude’s Hospital.

I made some new friends and valuable connections. Not to mention it was nice to just get away for a couple of days with my hubby.

Afterward went to spend the rest of the weekend with gracious hosts Tom and Frances Mosby in Dover AR. Since Jan hadn’t heard my interview and we had a long drive we listened to it. Now he knows that “big men walk in fear of me.” (Thanks, Russ.)

Frances and I have known each other since kindergarten so we can always find things to talk about. Yes, we still chatter like a couple of school girls. I’m glad that the guys get along so well, too.

Below are a few photos from the weekend for your viewing pleasure. 😉

Frances and Tom Mosby. We forgot to take pics together so here they are at their sons recent wedding.

Meeting of the artists. With Debra Jo Johnson

Chatting with Ann Redelfs, MD and new friend.

Alpacas on the Mosby ranch.

Judy Lowe, fellow author and new friend.

Young award winning authors

Meeting other authors for lunch on Friday

Tammy Holder Thompson, The woman who started it all.

As we meandered down our street toward home, our neighbor Bud who we’d asked to take in our mail, stopped us to tell us there was a serious problem. With my heart in my mouth, I followed Bud and Jan into their house. Bud’s wife, Cindi met us at the door with wine and said, “You won’t want to be our friends anymore. I washed your mail.”

Have you ever seen a stack of mail that has been trough wash, rinse and spin? Most of it was recognizable. Just mush around the edges. Once we ascertained that there was nothing of any consequence, we toasted our friendship with laughter and wine.

Thank you, Bud and Cindi Turner for being such good friends!

27 October 2017

Published October 25, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FINAL CURTAIN CALL

“Sunrise, Sunset…” Will sang as he combed his thinning white hair, grinning at his reflection. “One season following…”

A sudden wave of exhaustion and chest pain whelmed him. Breathless, he sank into a chair, closing his eyes.

“Willie, you’ll be late for Hebrew school.”

“Let me rest a moment, Mama.” He opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. “Oy! I will be late for the show.” He kissed her faded photograph. “See you soon.”

Later costar Carol Spinney, wearing his Big Bird feet, wrapped his arm around Will. “I love you, Mr. Looper.”

Will returned the hug. “Hooper! Hooper!”

Carol “Big Bird” Spinney and Will Lee

MORE INFO ON WILL LEE

RIGHTEOUS AMONG NATIONS

Published October 21, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman ventures to the Balkans to spend some time in Bulgaria. Feel free to use the prompt to inspire you in any way you see fit, be it historical fiction, poetry, a personal narrative, fantasy or whatever you like. The only requirement is to keep your post to 150 words or less as a gesture of respect for your readers.

Today, thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson, I’ve learned another bit of WWII Jewish history I didn’t know.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

RIGHTEOUS AMONG NATIONS

My grandmother and I strolled beside the spring, arm in arm. We’d had a picnic, just the two of us, to celebrate her 80^th birthday and my 13^th.

“I wish my Papa could’ve been here to enjoy your Bar Mitzvah. He was a rabbi, you know.”

“I know, Nana.”

“So I’ve told you.”

With her intense dark eyes she could take you captive until she decided to let you go. I didn’t mind.

Tears trickled down her weathered cheeks. “They closed the Jewish schools. We wore yellow stars. March 9, 1943, my 13th^th birthday. They rounded us up like cattle. We waited to be deported. It was inevitable. I would never see my beloved papa again. He held me and wept like a child. Then the miracle happened—”

“At the last minute Dimitar Peshev, the Vice President of the Bulgarian Parliament, got the order reversed.”

“So I’ve told you.”

From Wikipedia, After the war, the Communists brought forth charges on the Old Bulgarian Parliament for collaboration with the Germans. Peshev was tried for being both an anti-Semite and anti-Communist and was even accused of having been bribed by the Jews in exchange for halting the deportation.^[2] However, his Jewish friends from the Kyustendil delegation, led by Joseph Nissim Yasharoff, testified on his behalf and saved him from a death sentence. He was sentenced to 15 years of imprisonment but was released after one year.

20 October 2017

Published October 18, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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This is a scene from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN, the third in my Havah Cohen Gitterman trilogy. By the third book, the characters have survived the hardships of Eastern European persecution. Many of them are dealing with what we know today as PTSD. This scene takes place in 1907 when little was known, much less addressed.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

AMNESIA

“All these years the only thing I remembered was her suicide. I’ve hated her for it,” Shayndel shuddered. “How could I forget why?”

“You were only five,” whispered Fruma Ya’el. “It’s understandable—”

Shayndel buried her head in her hands. “‘Jew bitch,’ they called her. ‘Get help!’ she begged me. But I couldn’t move. I—I watched as they—”

Protracted memories riddled Shayndel. “Bayla never spoke again—until the morning she…she climbed the tree in the yard to the highest branch. Naked. Great with child. She spread her arms, smiled at me and said,” Shayndel choked, “‘Goodbye, little sister.’”