Realistic Fiction

All posts in the Realistic Fiction category

1 January 2021

Published December 30, 2020 by rochellewisoff

A TOAST TO A SAFE AND HAPPY YEAR! 

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 © Na’ama Yehuda

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN THE PARTY!

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

ED SULLIVAN PRESENTS

“My 8th grade friends adored the Monkees.”

“You didn’t, I presume.” Dale sips her Sangiovese.

“Beatles copycats created by NBC. Actors.”

“Not Kosher, eh?”

“As a ham sandwich. Like every other American kid, I glued myself to the TV, February 9, 1964, dazzled by the four lads from Liverpool. My 10-year-old heart floated on the clouds, unaware of any other guest stars.” I click a link. “Until now.”

“Anyone I’d know?”

“Ever hear of Davy Jones?”

“The Monkee? Sure.”

“He reprised his Oliver Twist role as the Artful Dodger that very night.”

“Who knew?”

I raise my glass. “Vive internet!”

*

*

The Monkees were handpicked by NBC for a silly television show to capitalize on the Beatles’ movie Help. Ironically, these four guys did become a band in their own right. And, for the record, I do enjoy their music. 

R.I.P. David Jones – December 30, 1945 to February 29, 2012 😦

Weekend Writing Prompt -Quixotic

Published December 5, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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.

 

CHASING WATERFALLS

“What’s the secret to happy life, Grandma?”

“Never stop pursuing your seemingly quixotic dreams. Work hard. Play harder.”

With a splash, Grandma dove under the water.  

23 October 2020

Published October 21, 2020 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

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN THE PARTY

This week marks my 8th anniversary as Friday Fictioneers facilitator and my 5th anniversary as a retired sign maker/cake decorator. So I’m taking the liberty of sharing a twofer. 

Genre: Hysterical Faction

Word Count: 100

HONCHO DORI

My coworker and best friend was fired for saying, of all things, “Hunky Dory.” Her flippant reply to my “How’s your day going?”  at her register. I kid you not. The charge was “sarcasm to a customer and, therefore, misconduct.” Seriously?

The company’s plan to purge the “old folks” put a target on my back, too.

At an emotional low I joined Friday Fictioneers. I tried it. I loved it. By October 24, I inherited the blog challenge.

Eight years later, my friend’s victorious lawsuit is a story we retell with glee. Friday Fictioneers? Yep, I’m still steering the bus.

It’s still hunky dory with us.

YEE-HAW!!!

I ran out words to tell you my friend was fired March 7, 2012 and I joined Friday Fictioneers a month later on April 12.

****

Now for the second go around as promised. 😉 I posted this 24 October 2012, after inheriting Friday Fictioneers from creator Madison Woods. This was the only time I didn’t title my post with the date. I was told by a fictioneer that it was too confusing for me to post my title because it gave the impression that my title was part of the prompt. I complied and never saw her again. Go figure. There are some fictioneers who stuck with me, even though they were here before me. You know who you are. 😉 If I list them I’m bound to leave someone out. At any rate here’s my first story as facilitator. Same photo prompt. 

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

OF SIGHT AND SOUND

A stunning contradiction of cropped black hair, bronzed skin and sea foam blue eyes, Aggie McKewen’s face reflected her Inuit and Scottish parentage.

Keith, who worked at his uncle’s café in Seward County, Alaska, longed to speak to her but didn’t know sign language and she was fencepost deaf.  Every Saturday he served her grilled salmon in shy silence.

After six weeks of night classes he felt ready to declare himself and asked her out.

With a voiceless giggle she snatched his pen and order pad. There she wrote, “I’d love to but why did you call me a tampon?”

Weekend Writing Prompt – Heather

Published October 4, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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. 

Although this isn’t a true story, per se, it’s a reality for too many. 

FAIRY TALE ROMANCE

Lucky white heather in her bouquet,

She approaches her Prince Charming

And links her fingers with his

Never dreaming that loving hand

Will viciously end her life.

Weekend Writing Prompt – Hinterland

Published July 18, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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.

I’ve no doubt my friends who are writers will relate. 

FAR AND AWAY

Her hair gleamed in the soft candlelight. Desire flooded him. No longer could he—

“Yoo-hoo, Mom.”

I flinch and stare at him. “What?”

He peers at me over his beer. “You didn’t hear a word I said.”

“What did you say?” I cut into my steak. “Mm. Underdone to perfection. I’m sorry, I had something on my mind.

My son, the professional wordsmith, winks. “You have the writer’s look.”

“What’s that?”

“Your body’s here, but your mind is far away in the hinterlands of your imagination.”

Busted.

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

19 June 2020

Published June 17, 2020 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

CLICK!

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

A STROLL ALONG THE BEACH

My seventy-four-years-young grandmother walks beside me with a slight limp.

“Did you have an accident when you were a girl, Nan?”

“Polio.”

“Why aren’t your legs deformed like the kids in those old films?”  

 “I was only five at the time.” Nan’s eyes mist. “My mother defied our doctor, who wanted to shackle me with steel braces, and took me to one of Sister Kenny’s treatment centers. There they wrapped my legs in hot wool and forced me to exercise.”

“Didn’t that hurt?”

“Like hell.” She grins and skips toward the ocean. “Last one in the water’s a rotten egg.”

 

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8 May 2020

Published May 6, 2020 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

GO AHEAD…CLICK ME!           

The following story is a work of fiction. Sadly, it’s based on fact for too many people. 

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

DRIVING THE BUS

Amy brushed, flossed and swished Listerine around her mouth. Spitting it out, she watched the blue liquid swirl down the drain. She raised her head, stared at her reflection, baring her teeth. “Minty fresh. I really gotta stop this ralphing crap.”

            She took a mental inventory of everything she’d eaten. Basically, she cleaned out the fridge. Twinkies, two toaster waffles, a banana, a cheese ball, three hardboiled eggs and so on.   

            She’d gotten the idea of taking Ipecac from a recovering bulimic’s book, meant to be a testimony of her victory over her eating disorder.

            “Handy little ‘how-to’ manual, eh?”

*Glossary:

Ralph is slang for vomit. Driving he Bus is slang for the same. 

Ipecac is a substance used to induce vomiting. Parents of small children keep it in the medicine cabinet in case of accidental poisoning. I had to use it once when my son was two.

Listerine, for those unfamiliar, is a brand of mouthwash popular in the States.

                           

SILENCE OF THE LAMBS

Published March 9, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman hitches up his camel for a trip deep into the Saudi Arabian desert, an oasis known as Wadi ad-Dawasir. There is no street view, but more than a few photospheres. Feel free to wander until you find something that appeals to you, then write up to 150 words about it. Sharing, reading, and commenting is the meat of a photo prompt, so please participate. If you enjoy yourself, please encourage others to join this community.

Thanks for playing, and do your best! Thanks to Josh for hosting.

To read other stories, click here.

Two weeks in a row for me. 😉 I debated over this one. But being one day after International Women’s Day, it seems right to speak out for women who have no voice. 

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

SILENCE OF THE LAMBS

We met in Toronto Pearson airport, where Clemira sought asylum. Her dark eyes broke my heart. She grasped my hands in both of hers. “Thank you for your help.”

Two years before I myself fled Saudi Arabia after my father killed my sister for going out in public without her Hajib. He poured acid on her while she slept. In my dreams I still hear her screams.

“I will do whatever I can.” I kissed Clemira’s scarred cheek. “How did you manage to escape?”

“The new law enabling women to drive saved me.” The plucky seventeen-year-old mother of three squared her shoulders. “My passport is up to date from our vacation. My brother—a rare sympathetic man—bought my ticket. I packed my things while Akbar slept. Then I took the car and drove to the airport.”

“Aren’t you worried about your children?”

“Akbar won’t beat them. They are boys.”

8 November 2019

Published November 6, 2019 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 © Ronda Del Boccio

I’m not blue but I will be if you don’t click me to join the fun. 😉 

Genre: Histrionic Fiction

Word Count: 100

A WRINKLE IN TIME

Elise wound a chestnut curl around her index finger and frowned. “Time for a little Miss Clairol.” Twisting her lips into a wry grin, she tilted her head. “Maybe I’ll just dye it purple.”

After she brushed her teeth, she cleansed her face and applied her foundation repeating the Mary Kay mantra she had learned years ago, “When you pat you place, when you rub you remove.”

The morning ritual continued with eye-shadow and mascara.

She gave her lips a coat of color and studied her reflection over the sink. “How the hell did my mother get in my mirror?”

*

*

*

My mother didn’t really look like this. 😉

WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT – INEFFABLE

Published November 3, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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.

PORTAL

“This photo’s always fascinated me.” I turn over the cardboard and study the foreign print. “Wish I could read it.”

Oxana stares at it. “It’s Russian. Very old.”

I flip it back over and gaze at the girl with ineffable awe, wishing I could read her thoughts. “It’s my grandmother Nettie Weinberg and her mother Edith. Great-grandma looks like she walked right out of ‘Fiddler on the Roof’, doesn’t she?”

 

 

 

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