21 July 2017

Published July 19, 2017 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 © Kent Bonham

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Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

INCARNATE

Most people I know have fond memories of their first automobile. Mine was a used 1971 royal blue Volkswagen Beetle. Fun size—like me.

My father hated it. “A Jew has no business driving a Nazi-mobile.”

The kids loved to sit in the ‘back-back,’ a mini cargo hold behind the rear seat and the bug was easy to maneuver. I enjoyed tootling around in it until the clutch went out. The heater worked great—all summer. Other quirks included slowing to a crawl at busy intersections while I floored the gas pedal and prayed.

Could Dad have been onto something?

14 July 2017

Published July 12, 2017 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 © Janet Webb

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

BUTTON-DOWN CONFESSION

My mother’s button collection fascinated me. Among my favorites were pearly ones with silver trim or grape-shaped ones made of glass. Like the jar in which she stored them, they smelled of stale mustard.

One afternoon I dumped them out on the table. A shiny blue straggler embossed with curvy white leaves rolled toward the edge. Mom caught it.

Her faraway eyes sparkled like the button itself. “My dress fastened in front. Indigo satin. He called me Princess Blue Belle.”

“Cute. Daddy’s clever, isn’t he?”

“Oops!” Blushing, she crammed the button into her pocket. “Time to clean up for supper.”

*

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

COUNTRY OF THE BLIND

Published July 10, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Bogota, Columbia.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Caroll for hosting this irresistible challenge each week.

Unfashionably late to the party this week. In fact I didn’t think I’d be on the guest list at all, but this piece sort of niggled inside my head. I seem to be in a reflective mode lately. I did try a bit of research…Jews in Bogota…”Famous People in Bogota for $50, Alex.” But this one haunted me and begged to be written. Now, if I haven’t bored you with intro…

Genre: Anecdote/Memoir

Word Count: 150

COUNTRY OF THE BLIND

The 1950’s through the 1960’s is often referred to as the Golden Age of Television. In a day where astounding computer graphics have replaced the salt-in-water special effects of Star Trek’s transporter beam, Millennials might scoff at such presumption.

Where are programs such as Playhouse 90 and, my personal favorite, The Twilight Zone? In my opinion, reality shows or over-the-top sitcoms are no match for them.

One black and white production of the DuPont Theater etched its stamp on my psyche and gave me nightmares. The play starred Lee Marvin who portrayed Juan De Nuñez, a prospector from the city who seeks wealth in the mountains of Columbia. Instead he finds himself held captive in village where everyone is blind.

To this day I feel the shock that sizzled through eight-year-old me when the camera zeroed in on an eyeless Marvin who said, “I am the richest man in Bogota.”

*

7 July 2017

Published July 5, 2017 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 © Claire Sheldon

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Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

GEM OF AN IDEA

Darren scratched his ear with a straightened paperclip. Gina slapped it from his hand. “Stop! You’ll perforate your eardrum!”

“Then I won’t havta hear your nagging.”

“Ohhh, just do your homework.”

“Do your own.” He rolled his eyes. “Sisters.”

“My report’s done.” She stacked three typewritten pages and paper-clipped the corners together. “Consider the lowly paperclip. Know who invented it?”

“Who cares?”

“Some think it was Johan Vaaler, a Norwegian. But it was actually an American, William D. Middlebrook, who even patented the machine to make them in 1899. Whaddya think?”

“I think you need to get a life.”

*

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UNTER DER WAND

Published July 1, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman takes us to Berlin’s Stresemannstraße in the former GDR.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson for facilitating this weekly challenge.

The Berlin Wall Today

Some of you might remember a shorter version of this story. I confess. It’s a refurbished rerun. It just seemed to fit and it’s been two years since I posted it. Perhaps the addition of fifty words has freshened it up a bit.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

UNTER DER WAND

“Hurry, Annika.” Vati whispered, glanced over his shoulder at the border guards and pulled me by the hand down Bernauer Strasse. “Mr. Schulenburg and his friends have risked their lives for this moment. This is our one and only chance to get to West.”

“What about Fritz?”

“Forget him!”

It was October 1964, a few days before my seventh birthday. What did I care of Mr. Schulenburg’s sacrifice? I only cared about Fritz.

Blinded by tears, I stumbled into a crowded building once used as a toilettenhäuschen where we followed other refugees through a hole in the floor. My father held me as we crawled through the dank tunnel. Within minutes we were lifted out on the other side.

While others shouted for joy I mourned my loss.

“Don’t cry, Liebling.” Vati grinned and took a groggy puppy from his coat pocket. “I couldn’t forget him either.”

Once more I share a link that’s worth a little over three minutes of your time.

30 June 2017

Published June 28, 2017 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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

“I AM STILL ZVI.”

He smiled from his front seat on the bus. Zvi obviously enjoyed his job—introducing a group of dusty pilgrims to Eretz Yisra’el.

“The field on the left is 100% cotton. On the right—50% polyester.”

Looking beyond his twinkling eyes, one could see the depth of his faith and commitment to his ancient homeland. I only imagined what he experienced as an IDF soldier in 1967 for he avoided speaking of it.

Eleven years later I still hear his voice and his daily greeting.

“Today in Israel there is no rain, there is no snow. Don’t worry. Be happy.”

Zvi with his daughter Sarah, also a tour guide.

Shalom!

“Move, you dumb ass!” “Yes, dear.” With Cuzzin Kent.

Greetings from HaAretz – The Land

At the Wall

MUTINY ON THE USS MGM

Published June 27, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Here it is, Friday Fictioneers Eve and I still couldn’t resist Mr. Pegman. I’m very late to the party due to an extremely full weekend. My first art show/book signing was an immense success. So with a sheepish, but happy grin, I submit my story. Many Mahalos to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this challenge.

Pitcairn Island

When I saw Pitcairn Island, my mind went to Fletcher Christian and Captain Bligh. Christian’s descendants still live there after over 300 years. At any rate, I chose a different facet of its history.

MUTINY ON THE USS MGM

“The role of a lifetime and you’re perfect for it,” Frank handed the actor the script. “I promise you an epic your fans won’t forget.”

Steely gray-green eyes pierced through Frank. “Get Fairbanks, he’s a natural in sissy knee-pants.”

“That’s what they wore in the 1700’s.”

“And you want me to wear a damned pigtail? Like a little girl?” The actor ran his fingers through his dark waves and flexed his pectorals. “I have an image to maintain.”

Frank’s irritation at the petulant performer mounted. “Queues were normal for manly men of the day. And…er…one more thing, Clark. Seamen in the Royal Navy weren’t allowed facial hair.”

Clark Gable tossed the script in Frank’s lap. “You want me to shave? Have you lost your mind?”

Frank held up a photo of a Polynesian beauty “Meet Mamo Clark. Your costar.”

A dimpled smile spread Gable’s lips. “The moustache will grow back.”

23 June 2017

Published June 21, 2017 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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Genre: Speculatively Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

DESIGNATION

Slow moving traffic and gray skies contributed to Ted’s equally gray mood. The rhythmic thump and swish of windshield wipers lulled him.

He had almost drifted off when banging on his passenger-side window startled him. Leaning over, he opened the door.

“Mahalo, hoaloha. I must get back to my sheep near the harbor.”

“Friday Harbor?” Ted stared at the stranger’s crescent-shaped eyes and old fashion clothing. “Where’re you from?”

“Hawaii, but I work for Fort Cowitz.”

“They shut down in 1869. What’s your name?”

“Poalima. ‘Friday’ in English.”

A horn’s blast made Ted jump and the stranger vanished like steam.

*

Mahalo, hoaloha – thank you, friend.

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PRICELESS

Published June 19, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman takes us to the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for heading up this challenge, one that I can’t seem to avoid. 😉 I’m not even caught up on my Friday Fictioneers reading, commenting and replying.

The Gold Souk in Dubai

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 150

PRICELESS

“Cash for your old gold,” boasted a reputable local jeweler.

He set up a table at the front of the grocery store where I worked as a cake designer. There he made his offer to employees and customers alike.

“Wish I had something to trade in, I could use the money,” said Maggie, my coworker. “You got anything?”

My husband is something of a jewelry junkie and bought some stunning gold pieces while stationed in Dubai during the Gulf War. Nothing I care to part with. My favorite is a simple heart ring, the symbol of storms we’ve weathered in our marriage.

“Nah, but I wonder what this is actually worth.”

Maggie took it and left the bakery. When she returned she tossed it on the counter. “It’s fake.”

Isn’t it sad that a “trained professional” didn’t recognize 24 carat gold?

Like my daddy used to say, “It’s always something.”

*

It’s rarely left my right index finger since December 1999. 24 carat gold is soft and easily bent. BUT it’s never turned my finger green.

OPUS MAJESTUOSO

Published June 11, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman walks through Guatemala City

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson for hosting this enjoyable challenge!

Once more, following the research trail I learned some history I didn’t know. If that’s not wonderful enough, this is ART history.

Mural by Carlos Mérida – Institute of Social Security in Guatemala City

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

OPUS MAJESTUOSO

Carlos hunched over the piano, hands over his ears, tears dripping on the ivory keys. “No puedo oír la música. Mi vida se acabó.”

“Mi hijo,” Papa squeezed Carlos’ shoulder, “my son, you are only fifteen. It is sad that sickness damaged your ears, but your life is just beginning.”

“How can I be a pianist if I cannot hear the music?”

Papa opened a varnished wooden box containing tubes of color and various sized brushes. “Your art teacher says you show gran potential.”

Rolling one of the brushes between his fingers, a slow smile spread Carlos’ lips. His heart raced as he stroked an imaginary canvas. “I will paint todo el mundo, the whole world.”

___

51 years later, in 1958, Delilah Mérida’s smile radiated love and pride when the Guatemalan government honored his artistic achievement with the Order of the Quetzal. “My husband makes music for the eyes.”

Carlos Mérida

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***

Although I hope it came through in context, here’s the translation: “No puedo oír la musica. Mi vida se acebó.” -“I can’t hear the music. My life is over.”