TAKE TWO

Published November 16, 2022 by rochellewisoff

The beauty of this challenge is making friends. And friends being what they are, like to poke fun at each other. At least that’s my thoughts on it. Following a post from a fellow Friday Fictioneer last week I couldn’t help myself.

PHOTO PROMPT © Starsinclayjars

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Genre: Hystercial Fiction
Word Count: 100

WHO THE HELL IS NOBBINMAUG?

Running along a Boucherville road, I called out to Dale. “Gimme a break! My legs aren’t as long as yours.”

“Not my fault you’re a sawed-off runt.”

Then we both saw it. A black and white dog sitting beside the path, an orthopedic boot between his teeth. We stopped to pet him.

His eyes glowed with an eerie golden light.

He dropped the boot and growled. “Find Nobbinmaug. Find Nobbinmaaauuug.”

Lightning streaked across a suddenly darkened sky. Thunder crashed. The ground crumbled beneath our feet.

I woke with a start and whispered to no one, “Who the hell is Nobbinmaug?”

Who is Nobbinmaug?

9 September 2022

Published September 7, 2022 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

1938

“Is this how you remember it, Mom?” asked Ruth.

Naomi hadn’t seen the scenic deutsche Stadt in fifty years. The synagogue had been replaced by a church. Although some shops still existed, her childhood home did not.

She swallowed. “I was ten. Momma gave me a sack of her homemade macaroons for the long journey. She told me, ‘You’ll be safe with Aunt Gertie and Uncle Norman in New York.’

“Poppa crushed me in his strong arms. ‘Momma and I will come for you soon. You’ll see.’

“From the ship I watched them grow smaller and smaller.

“They never came.”

2 September 2022

Published August 31, 2022 by rochellewisoff

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Every writer has those days when their imaginary friends won’t come out to play. This has been my week. 😉

Genre: Hysterical Friction
100 Useless Words

DRAWING BLANKS

“I’m drawing blanks.” I stare at David’s photo. “I’m the leader. I can’t just post a photo prompt without my own story.”

“Drawing blanks is a good title,” says my good friend and nemesis Harvey Wingnut. “As an artist you should be quite adept at that.”

“You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.”

I beg my muse for an idea.

“Sorry, chick. You’re on your own,” she whispers. “I’m vacationing in the Bahamas.”

You get the picture.

I study the shadowy prompt and wonder who’ll be buried under that shed this week.

“You win, Harvey. ‘Drawing Blanks’ it is.”

It means nothing but, then, neither does my post. Fun stuff with our niece in July.

19 August 2022

Published August 17, 2022 by rochellewisoff

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This was my fifth annual visit with my brother and sister-in-law. As always it was hard to leave, but good to come back home. The ocean was rough this year and dangerous for swimming most of the time. Still great beach times. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 😉

Genre: Histrionic Fiction
Word Count: 100

ANNUAL HOLIDAY

“You take separate vacations?”

Rochelle grinned at the tanned woman beside her as the plane made its ascent. “Every year for the past five. He goes to South Dakota for the bike rally and texts me pictures of the most gorgeous scenery.”

The North Carolina landscape dwindled below. Rochelle turned from the window. Ten days of sightseeing and beachcombing with her brother zipped by. They’d laughed at punchlines without telling the jokes and reminisced about things only siblings would remember.

“Wouldn’t you like to go with your husband sometime?”

“Nah.” Rochelle wrinkled her nose. “It’s way too peopley for me.”

22 July 2022

Published July 20, 2022 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Hysterical Faction
Word Count: 100

CHLORINE DEPRIVATION

Retirement has certainly taken the sting out of Monday. Every day is a weekend. Monday’s one of my swim days. Fifty-four invigorating laps. This morning I tingle with anticipation.

Sipping my morning coffee, I check my emails which are mostly deletable spams.

“What’s this? A member announcement from my fitness center? Have my old-fogy dues gone up again?”

My breath catches in my throat as I read. It’s as if I’m staring down a tunnel with no light on the other side.

“ ‘The Indoor Pools, both lap and rec, will be closed until further notice due to lifeguard shortages.’

Nooooooo!”

1 July 2022

Published June 29, 2022 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

BLUMEN

I trembled with nine-year-old excitement as I presented the flowers. Their sweet fragrance filled my nostrils as I curtsied.

The new chancellor smiled and said, “Danke schön meine Liebchen.”

When I made my way back through the crowd to my classmates, my friend Ilsa hugged me, her blue eyes sparkling. “How lucky you are to be chosen.”

Soon after that day, my family and I packed all the belongings we could carry and moved away from Germany.

Lucky? Jah. Never will I forget his cold eyes. What would the Führer have said had he known this flower girl was Jewish?

18 March 2022

Published March 16, 2022 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: What’s so Funny?
Word Count: 100

CRASHING THE GATE

Every morning she raced him through the entrance as fast as her four legs would carry her. He huffed and puffed behind her, trying to keep up. Alas his best was never good enough.

She would wag her stubby tail in victory as if to say, “Ha! You’ll never win, chubby.”

He’d hang his head as the gate clanked shut behind them. Locked out again. He and his playmate clawed at the rusty hasp and whimpered.

Connie, the lady of the house opened the gate and kissed his cherry-red nose. “Honestly, Russell, I wish you’d just fix the doggone latch.”

11 March 2022

Published March 9, 2022 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
A tribute to all the “Uncles and Aunts” who risked their own lives to save others.

SAFEKEEPING

Shira slipped a worn photo of a smiling two-year-old from her pocket that, like she, had managed to survive hell. Had Hans kept his promise? Trembling, she knocked on the cottage door.

It opened. “Danke Gott!” A stout man with ruddy cheeks embraced her. “Ilsa, who is this lady?”

A five-year-old clung to his leg. “I don’t know, Uncle Hans.”

Shira knelt. “Don’t you remember me?”

Ilsa shook her head and stared at the numbers on Shira’s forearm.

Shira’s heart sank. “Oy, meyn kleyn ketzl.”

“Momma katz?” Ilsa threw her arms around Shira’s neck. “I knew you’d come for me.”

*Oy meyn kleyn ketzl – Oh, my little kitten”

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Saddle Up Saloon; Howdy Rochelle Wisoff-Fields!

Published October 25, 2021 by rochellewisoff

Many thanks to Kid and Pal at the Saddle Up Saloon for allowing me to share my art and writing story with them.

Carrot Ranch Literary Community

“Hey Kid. I see ya got a innerview with Rochelle Wisoff-Fields this week. I ‘member her from ourfirst art showat the Saloon.”

“That’s right Pal, an’ thesecond art showin’too. Oh, here she is now. Howdy Rochelle!”

“Hello Kid, hello Pal.”

“Rochelle, many of us know you from yer blog where ya host and write fer Friday Fictioneers. But yer also a visual artist. When did ya first idennify as ‘artist’?”

“Kid, I can’t remember a time I didn’t identify as an artist. You might say I was born with a purple crayon clenched in my fist. Some of my earliest childhood memories include those of my Sunday school classmates fighting over my drawings.

My mother was slightly less enamored with my earliest works, saying she could never find a blank piece of paper because ‘Rochelle scribbled on every sheet.’”

“So which came first, the visual art…

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15 October 2021

Published October 13, 2021 by rochellewisoff

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.

Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count:100

KEVADON

Life is made up of challenges, isn’t it? What more can a person do than play the hand she’s been dealt?

My mother often spoke of the vicious morning sickness she suffered during her pregnancy in the 1960’s.

“My doctor called it a miracle drug,” she said with tears streaming. “One little pill cured my nausea.”

You would think I’d be used to the gawking stares. Born with fingers protruding from my shoulders, I resigned myself to the merry-go-round of prosthetics and wheelchairs a long time ago.

Nonetheless, I dream of winning a foot race.

If only I had feet.

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Some may remember the Thalidomide scandal in the UK in the 1960’s. In England the drug was called Destival. Taken by pregnant women for morning sickness, it caused horrendous birth defects. It’s only recently come to light that, while the drug wasn’t approved by the FDA in the States the Wm. S. Merrell Co. distributed it.

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