Speculative Fiction

All posts in the Speculative Fiction category

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. 


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Genre: Speculatively Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100



 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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Published April 9, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman takes us to Dubrovnik, Croatia.

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.

Many thanks to Karen Rawson and her highly significant other J Hardy Carroll for hosting this refreshing prompt challenge.

Below is my prompt of choice. 🙂

Word Count: 150

Genre: Speculative Fiction


            The sea laps against the shores of former Ragusa, Yugoslavia, now Dubrovnik, Croatia.

            In the words of exiled sixteenth century Portuguese poet, Yeshaya Cohen, “If I had to find a peaceful place to rest in my old age, above any other city I would fancy only Ragusa.”

            Although it sounds boastful, I must tell you I have survived two earthquakes and several major wars.

            Torah scrolls within my Holy Ark, Moshe Rabaynu’s words inscribed on lamb skin, are centuries old. A handful of the faithful still worship the God of Avraham, Yitzhak, and Ya’akov within my formidable 700-year-old walls.

            Humans can’t see my tears, but I’ve shed many. They seeped between the stones and juddered my walls when I helplessly watched beloved Rabbi Baruch being taken captive by swastika-ed guards. Babes in arms perished with him on the Island of Rab.

            Despite harassment and persecution, like my people, I stand.  


Inquiring minds click here. 

8 July 2016

Published July 6, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Summer Showcase

Summer is the time for vacations, picnics on the beach and reruns on the telly. For me it’s a time to meet a deadline in July for my third novel in my series entitled AS ONE MUST ONE CAN. Many thanks to those of you who responded to my plea for your favorite reruns. 

Phriday Phictioneers Phone

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The following photo is the PROMPT. This week’s retread request is from Sandra Crook. If you’re one of those who wrote a story for this prompt feel free to re-post it and enjoy the respite. Remember that all photos are private property and subject to copyright. Use other than Friday Fictioneers by permission only. 


PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Marler Morrill

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Marler Morrill

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Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100

This story is from the week of 12 October 2012 when Madison was still Chief Fictioneer.


            Summer 1969, an American sailor stationed in Greece, I went on leave to Santorini.

In Pyrgos, I met sable-eyed Melina.

We drank each other. Her fragrant breasts welcomed me home.

“Marry me,” I whispered.

“I can’t.”

After that I never saw her again.

Summer 2010, I returned to Pyrgos.

On the street I stopped a silver-haired woman. “Melina Dimitri? Do you know her?”


“I love her.”

“Impossible! She was my great-grandmother. Died in childbirth in 1869. Here she is with my great-grandfather.”

When the woman flipped out an old photograph I gasped at the youthful images of Melina and…me.

24 June 2016

Published June 22, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Summer Showcase

Summer is the time for vacations, picnics on the beach and reruns on the telly. For me it’s a time to meet a deadline in July for my third novel in my series entitled AS ONE MUST ONE CAN. Many thanks to those of you who responded to my plea for your favorite reruns. 

Ellehcor Banner FF

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Another Highway

The following photo is the PROMPT. This week’s retread request is from C.E.Ayr If you’re one of those who wrote a story for this prompt feel free to re-post it and enjoy the respite. The photo is from Rich Voza. Remember that all photos are private property and subject to copyright. Use other than Friday Fictioneers by permission only.

copyright-Rich Voza

copyright-Rich Voza


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I’m really pleased that C.E. chose this particular prompt. It’s one of my all time favorites, not because of the photo itself but because of what it meant to me. I am posting two stories with permission from Doug MacIlroy who is currently MIA and says, “Tell the FF gang I said hello and that I wish them well and that like a relative of mine once said, ‘I shall return’.”

When Doug shared his abbreviated story with me via email in February 2013 I asked what he thought about my writing the partner story. Between iPhone texts and photos we worked to make our stories exactly 200 words between the two of them. It was a labor of love and a magical experience in writing. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did. 

Original posts HERE and HERE

Doug’s story is in the photo below.

Genre for both: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 65


Departure Clearance

Word Count: 135


            “Flight delayed.” Amelia snarled and closed the US Airways website. “Damn business trips!”

            Memories of their argument right before Chase left gnawed at her. She regretted her spiteful words.

            “I hate your job!”

            “You like the money.”

            “You’re never home. Your daughters don’t even know their father.”

            “Next time, babe, you and the girls are coming with me.”

            “What if—?”

            “‘What if’ never happens.” He gathered her into his arms. “Flying’s safer than driving on the freeway.”

            Five hours ago he’d texted from Phoenix. “Just a little turbulence. Nothing to worry about.”

            “Mommy?” Four-year-old Katy tiptoed into the room. “Daddy sat on my bed.”

            “It was only a dream, Kitten.”

            “No it wasn’t. He talked to me!”

            “What’d he say?”

            “He’s sorry he can’t come home.” 

            Her phone chimed. Message from Chase.

            “Dearest Amelia…” 

.Chase's last message

Jet Crash with houses.



4 March 2016

Published March 2, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Thoreau NZ birds

Phriday Phictioneers Phone

The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette. 

Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count. 

Copyright-Sean Fallon

PHOTO PROMPT © Sean Fallon

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Many of you will remember this prompt. It’s one of my first as Friday Fictioneers Fairy Blog Mother. This week I feel the need to direct my writing energy to another project so I’m falling back on a re-run. It’s one of my favorite photos and stories from nearly four years ago. Looking back on the link from that prompt I see that quite a few of you wrote stories for it. Thank you for sticking with it. ❤ Feel free to take a break or write another story. 

Genre: (hopefully not) Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100


            Prototypical milquetoast, Benjamin Parker wore bow ties and kept to himself. 

            Three days of no-call, no-show to work passed before anyone missed him enough to call the police.

            When we broke into his immaculate apartment we found his pajama-clad body in bed. There were no signs of foul play.

            Jars filled with things like batteries, safety pins, wine corks and matchbooks lined cabinets and counter-tops.

            “Quite the collector. Wonder if he jarred his tidy whities.” I flung open the closet door and choked. “What the—?”

            In single file on the top shelf human heads floated in name-tagged gallon jars.


This coming Sunday, March 6, I’ll be interviewed on local TV at 7:50 AM CST. It will be streamed live here.  Click the red new button and then “Live Streaming.” 

And for your listening pleasure.

6 November 2015

Published November 4, 2015 by rochellewisoff
Thoreau Dogs

(Not the Prompt)

Blue Ceiling FF

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The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Please give credit where credit is due, ie the photograph contributor. It’s not just a nice thing to do, it’s PROPER ETIQUETTE. 


For those who would like constructive criticism on your story it’s my pleasure to introduce to you


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PHOTO PROMPT - © Connie Gayer (Mrs. Russell)

PHOTO PROMPT – © Connie Gayer …(Mrs. Russell)

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Genre: Historically Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100


            My Ephraim’s shiny eyes was bluer than the April sky. I set him on a blanket where he cooed and sucked his fist. Then I laid out picnic fare for me and Tom.

            “Our wheat’s a-dyin’ of thirst, Cora-Lee,” he said. “I hear tell them know-it-alls in Washington says we’re destroying the land and causing this here weather change.”


            Suddenly a black cloud ripped across the prairie and snuffed out the sun. I choked on dirt as we ran for cover. That day in 2035 Ephraim’s tiny lungs filled with dust and his colorless eyes don’t shine no more.



Dust Bowl

Could it Happen Again? Click.

23 October 2015

Published October 21, 2015 by rochellewisoff

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            This past week marks my third anniversary as Friday Fictioneers Facilitator. To celebrate I’ve taken the liberty of rerunning a photo prompt and my story from the week Madison passed the baton to me. If you were part of the group at that time feel free to rerun your story as well.

            I’d like to share some thoughts with you as I go into my fourth year as your “Fairy Blog Mother” (Thank you, Vijaya). I’ll begin by saying that I appreciate those who were part of the group before me and have stayed on the bus. Your encouragement has helped me through some difficult times as I’ve learned there’s more to facilitating than simply posting and hosting.

            The discipline of writing an entire story in a hundred words has done wonderful things for my longer pieces. I’ve also experienced the joy of watching growth in other writers and I love the diversity and cultural exchange as we represent different parts of the world. I’ve made some delightful friendships that wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

            Since 2012 participation has doubled.  I make it a point to at least read every entry. That being said, I’ll admit that serials that require my having to refer back to a previous story frustrate me. If you must write a serial, please make sure your entry stands alone. As one writer said recently, I can barely remember what I wrote last week.

            My other pet peeve is the multiple prompt stories.  I find these pieces that try to shoehorn three to four challenges to be stilted and confusing. Mind you, no one will be expelled for posting them. Everyone has preferences and I’m no exception.

            I’ll end here with a hearty thank you for indulging me more than a hundred words. And THANK YOU FOR YOUR PARTICIPATION!!!  


Now it’s your turn. What do you like about Friday Fictioneers? How do you feel the discipline helps you as a writer? What are your pet peeves, ie what don’t you like?


The next photo is the PROMPT which first appeared in October 2012. 



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Genre: Para-Abnormal

Word Count: 97


              Apprehensions whelmed the new driver. How could she steer the behemoth? Her feet barely reached the gas pedal.

             A lithe maiden with pointed ears and iridescent wings, floated past her.  Next was an imposing man whose black silk cape skimmed the floor. One by one, diverse passengers stowed their baggage and found their seats.

            “Welcome,” said the last in line. “I’m Russell.”

             Warmed by his congenial smile she tried not to stare at his plastic clown nose and grasped his offered hand.

             Zzzzzzt! His joy buzzer sent shockwaves to her shoulder.  

             He chortled. “Are we there yet?”




You can find the original posting of this story here. 

I hope you’ll read the message before the prompt and take some time to give me feedback. Thank you. 




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