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 Sammi’s Comment Section.
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.
Avraham set the seedling in the hole he had dug. “Blessed are You, Master of the Universe, Creator of life. May the memories of my Sarah and our little Isaac be blessed.”
Hannah helped Avraham cover the tender roots with sandy soil. “May the memory of my Shmuel also be blessed.”
Under Israel’s hot summer sun many others had come to plant. Their goal was to raise six million trees, one for each life taken.”
Avraham placed his hand on Hannah’s belly and smiled through his tears when their unborn child kicked. “By their deaths, they commanded us to live.”
The six million trees, planted in 1951 by Jewish National Fund, World B’nai Brith and immigrants, are a living monument of eternally green memorial candles for the six million of our people who perished during World War II.
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.
I came upon Noah and his crude cabin quite by accident while hiking in the Adirondacks back in 1938. Hospitable fella. Self-proclaimed mayor of Cold River City. Population: one.
“I left home as a youngster.” He puffed on his pipe. “I had my fill of American industrial slavery and highway carnage.”
“Don’tcha miss people?” I asked.
“Not much. I got my little garden. Fish in summer, venison in winter. An elegant sufficiency.”
In 1967 I read in the newspaper of Noah John Rondeau’s passing at the age of eighty-four in a hospital room. Not exactly the sendoff he’d hoped for.
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 Sammi’s comment section.
BEFORE WE WENT THERE
“I bet I can make this one reach the stars.” Eight-year-old Alan spun the propeller of his latest model airplane. “Maybe it’ll even fly across the whole galaxy.”
“Aw, you’re goofy.” Bobby caught a firefly and dropped it into a fruit jar. “It’s just a toy.”
Alan dropped down on the ground. Cool grass tickled his neck. He gazed at the stars in the dark summer sky. “Someday. You wait and see. I’m going to fly clear to outer space.”
“Say hello to the little green men for me when you do.”
Alan Shepard was the first American to travel to outer space in May 1961. So began the Space Race.
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.
“Tang. NASA sent it to outer space.” Russell stirred orange powder into his water. “Remember the commercials when we were kids? I wanted to be an astronaut like John Glenn.”
“Just like I remember. Fortified with vitamin C and full of sugar.” Rochelle raised her glass. “To William A. Mitchell, the Montana farm boy who grew up to be a food chemist and invented not only Tang, but Cool Whip and Pop Rocks as well.”
“A toast to our maven of trivia,” Russell took a sip and grimaced. “Blecch! Gimme a beer instead. To quote astronaut Buzz Aldrin, ‘Tang sucks.’”
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.
For as long as I can remember Dad took certain girls under his wing wherever he worked. It’s not like he preyed on young women. He simply saw a need and answered the call.
I accepted them as friends and sisters. One of them still is. She introduced me to her brother. I married him.
“Donna’s daddy passed away when she was a little girl,” said Dad. “She says I’ve filled her dad-shaped void.”
I’ll never forget the devastating phone call in the middle of the night. A drunk driver snuffed out seventeen-year-old Donna’s life and shattered my father’s heart.
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.
Millie Levy loved to learn about inventors. Famous or obscure. It didn’t matter.
“I wonder what Alexander Graham Bell would say about the iPhone.” She mused. “Or what Edison would think about LED lights.”
Millie’s brother Eli rolled his eyes. “Who cares?”
“I do. Get this. Maria Beasley invented a barrel-making machine in 1878. And J.F. Glidden was first to patent barbed wire in 1874. He made a fortune off cattle ranchers and farmers.”
Grandma Rachel pointed to the tattooed numbers on her arm. “I wonder what Mr. Glidden would say if he knew how Hitler used his precious invention.”
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 Sammi’s Comment Section.
The Ruskin Heights tornado claimed 44 lives and injured 531 more on May 20, 1957.
Although I wasn’t quite four, I will never forget the eerie yellow-green sky or thick hush the day a tornado demolished a nearby community.
Dear Friday Fictioneers, 😦 Our friend and fellow Friday Fictioneer in Friday Harbor (of all places) has suffered a stroke. We wish him a swift recovery. And for those who would like to send him a card or note to cheer him on, email me at rwisofffields.wordart@gmail.com for the address. Shalom, Rochelle
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.
“Greetings from the city of New York. Last night I went to watch fireworks and see the new Statue of Liberty. She is magnificent. I can’t wait until you see her with your own eyes.
You ask how I am. What could be better than living in the land of opportunity?
Angry shouts echoed from downstairs. Shlomo stopped writing his letter and surveyed his one-room apartment. He continued, “There are no Cossacks.” A baby howled in the flat next door. Shlomo’s stomach rumbled. He looked out at the peaceful street and wrote, “All is well.”
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.
You might remember my story a few weeks back about Korean American actor Philip Ahn. He was the eldest of four children. How could I resist shining a spotlight on his little sister Susan?
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count : 100
AMERICAN HERITAGE
“Appa,” eleven-year-old Susan blinked back tears. “Why must you go back to Korea?”
“There is work to be done.” Dosan caressed his daughter’s cheek. “Do your best to be a good American citizen but never forget your heritage.”
***
“How do I know you’re not the enemy?” asked the enlistment officer.
“I’m not Japanese. I’m Korean American.” Twenty-seven-year-old Susan bristled but stood her ground. “And proud to serve my country.”
“Okay, sign on the bottom line.”
***
Refusing to surrender to sexism or racism, Susan Ahn Cuddy served during WWII and became the first female aerial gunnery officer in the U.S. Navy.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 