It never occurred to me to designate a theme song for my blog until Junk Chuck (whoever he) dropped by my “About Rochelle” page and left this video. Nothing more to add. Enjoy!
😉 Shalom,
Rochelle
P.S. Click here to meet Chuck. You won’t be sorry.
World Travelers: Friday Fictioneers
Published July 18, 2014 by rochellewisoffEvery week at least one hundred global writers shorten the distance by sharing their flash fictions based on a single photo prompt. I have the honor and privilege of hosting the Friday Fictioneers challenge created by Madison Woods three years ago. I’ll probably never meet each one face to face, although I’ve been able to meet up with a few.
This past week, Friday Fictioneers Bill and Janet Webb had lunch Sandra Crook and her husband Neville on their boat in France.
From left to right: Neville and Sandra Crook, Janet and Bill Webb (who resembles neither zombie nor zed).
Also among our world travelers is Dawn Landau who lives in Washington state met with fellow fictioneer Björn Rudberg for lunch in Stockholm.
I love putting more than faces to names, don’t you?
18 July 2014
Published July 16, 2014 by rochellewisoff
Below is the PHOTO PROMPT. Can you tell me what this photo says to you in a hundred. (Complete story: beginning, middle and end) I dare you to step outside your comfort zone. I double dare you!
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Adam Ickes
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word count: 100
RESULTS
“Elise? We need to talk about your labs.”
It’s been over an hour since I sat down in the waiting room.
‘What if’s’ torment me. I comb my hair with my fingertips, loop a curl around my pinkie and imagine myself bald.
Stop that!
Just because my doctor has concerns she wants to discuss doesn’t mean it’s…
Oh God, what will Steve do without me? Will he remarry? What about the kids?
My eyes sting.
Pole-vaulter to conclusions? Sue me. I’m an Aries.
The nurse enters to summon the next patient and stares at me. I hold my breath.
“Elise…”
11 July 2014
Published July 9, 2014 by rochellewisoff
Below is the PHOTO PROMPT. What does it say to you? Tell me in one hundred words or less.
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Kelly Sands
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
SAUVIGNON BLANC 1940: THE GRAPES OF WRATH
Nine-year-old Laurel shivered and rubbed her eyes.
“Are we going to die, Mum?”
Her mother held her tight and shouted over concussions that juddered the shelter.
“The storm will pass.”
The ceiling caved in, their lantern shattered on the floor and her world went black.
In the morning sirens sounded the “all clear” and by afternoon civil defense workers had dug their way through to them.
Laurel squeezed Mum’s cold, stiff hand. “Wake up. Please, wake up. The bombers are gone.”
****
In the cold darkness of the wine cellar the storm still raged.
Eighty-one-year-old Laurel shivered and rubbed her eyes.
The Gift
Published July 3, 2014 by rochellewisoffFor the first time in over two years I took a two-week break from Friday Fictioneers. The reason being that I had some special out of town guests and I wanted to devote as much time to them as I could. Many of you know these two stellar writers, Janet Webb from Naperville, IL and Douglas MacIlroy from Kamuela, HI.
Since Doug planned to be in town for a couple of disc golf tournaments I invited him to the “Fields Bed and Breakfast.” Naperville isn’t far from Kansas City so I extended an invitation to Janet. One of the perks of having more than one guest room is that we can accommodate more than one guest.
It was nice to relax and get in some recreational reading. I think I was waking up from a recreational nap when Doug snapped the photo.
Doug sitting at my desk.
One of the high points of the visit was a trip to Joplin where we had lunch with Russell and Connie Gayer. Since they live in Arkansas we met in a somewhat central location. On the way we stopped for gas in Webb City, MO. Doug snapped the next photo. Too good to pass up.
Janet Webb in front of that Webb City water tower.
Connie and Russell Gayer. A rather serious expression on one of our favorite humorists.
The man behind me is my husband, Jan. Connie took the picture.
We celebrated Doug’s victory in his division of the KC Wide Open.
One of Doug’s favorite Kansas City sites. A disc golf shop downtown. The photo’s a bit blurry but the expression on his face says, “I’ve found Paradise.”
Selfie in a reflection. Doug had to snap this one so you get an idea of the differences in our heights. (One of us has some.)
While Doug was in Columbia for his second tournament, I managed to break my toe, the second in two months. You can read all about it here.
Y’all come back now. Take your shoes off…at your own risk.
4 July 2014
Published July 2, 2014 by rochellewisoff
What does the photo prompt below say to you? Tell me in a hundred words. 😉
PHOTO PROMPT, Copyright – Claire Fuller
Genre: Realistic Fiction
World Count: 99
WHAT’S ON THE MENU?
“There’s so much I haven’t seen, Mom.”
“It’ll keep. You’re only eighteen.”
“I’m a woman.”
“You’re still a child. The city will eat you alive.”
“It’s a full scholarship.”
Three months later, miles from parental scrutiny, Evelyn strolled into the university studio, virgin sketchbook under her arm.
She lowered herself onto an art bench, looked up at the statuesque model on a raised platform, held her pencil erect at arm’s length to calculate perspective and, with great relish, contemplated all that nature had bestowed upon him.
“Study hard,” her mother had said.
Evelyn smiled.
“I will, Mom, I will.”
Toemageddon
Published June 29, 2014 by rochellewisoffLIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE
I’ve often claimed to be my own anecdote. But if I can’t laugh at myself…and so on and so on and Scooby dooby dooby do.
Although I don’t like to share my physical trials and tribulations, sometimes a situation presents itself that’s too ridiculous not to share. For example, some may recall post about my minute clinic excursion for a mouth ulcer last year that led to a trip to the ER for an abnormally low heart rate.
My story begins during the last week of April when I slipped and stubbed my left big toe before going of to work. I thought nothing much of it as I donned my shoe. No bruise, no swelling. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable the rest of the day. Imagine my shock and amazement when I removed my shoe that afternoon.
X-rays showed that I’d fractured it at the top joint.
A month later, another x-ray showed that my poor broken digit hadn’t healed. My sentence was another four weeks in the stylish, open toed “oxford.” Ironically I haven’t had much pain with this one. For this I’ve been thankful.
This brings me to this past Friday morning. As I blissfully stepped out of the tub after a refreshing shower I banged my right toe against the sliding-door track. Sharp pain. But I’ve done that before many times over. Nothing to worry about, right?
Instead of subsiding, the pain grew steadily worse as did the swelling and discoloration. By yesterday morning (Saturday) it had swollen more. My husband insisted on taking me to the local ER.
Before all was said and done I warned the ER nurses about my heart rate which for me is normal. (49 for those curious readers.)
A tech came in and snapped four different x-ray views. I prayed for a diagnosis of simple bruising. Go home put ice on it.
No such luck.
The PA came back and showed me one of the x-rays on her iPhone. A lovely little fracture in the middle of the joint where foot meets toe.
So I look forward to returning to work Tuesday wearing not one, but two, ortho boots.
Sigh. Off to take my pain meds.
L’chaim.
27 June 2014 – Summer Rerun II
Published June 25, 2014 by rochellewisoff
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PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Madison Woods The photo is actually from Lura Helms for whom I have no link.
Here’s another of my favorites revisited. 😉 originally posted August 16, 2012
Genre: Literary Fiction
Word Count: 100
CASUALTY OF WAR
In the woods on the outskirts of town is the Tree of Life. Not to be confused with the original, this one earned its name from a century of discarded oddities which have grown into its branches.
Jason and I carved our names into the bark the day before he left for Viet Nam. We’d marry when he returned.
When the final letter came my heart cratered to my stomach.
He’d met Trinh-Lee, his true love.
Today you can still read the crude print that says, “Jason loves Karen.”
Just below it, imbedded in the trunk, is my disengagement ring.
20 June 2014 -Summer Rerun
Published June 18, 2014 by rochellewisoff
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Below is the photo prompt. I’ve tried to enlarge it but it defies all my attempts. 
PHOTO PROMPT
Copyright -Mary Shipman
*I have out-of-town guests coming this week so I won’t be reading or commenting much after Thursday. I really appreciate all of you.*
This was the fourth story I posted for Friday Fictioneers, 1 May 2012. It’s still one of my favorites and it’s fun to go back there to see who commented and what they said. 😉
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word count: 99
SIMPLE HOUSE
In 1901 taxidermist Jefferson Thomas constructed a home and a thriving business. His petulant mail-order bride hated rural life.
One day her prized ruby from a former suitor disappeared. Blaming Jefferson, she demanded a divorce. Tongues wagged when she abandoned both her husband and child.
A century later a tornado devastated the house to a pile of clapboard. Amid the rubble, Jefferson Thomas III found nothing left of his heritage save a lone wall. He tore off a length of wallpaper and yelped.
A glass eyed, mummified woman stared back at him, a ruby ring clinched between her teeth.
13 June 2014
Published June 11, 2014 by rochellewisoff
REMINDER: This page is “FRIDAY FICTIONEERS CENTRAL” and is NOT the place to promote political or religious views. Also, you are responsible for the content of your story and policing comments on your blog. You have the right to delete any you consider offensive.
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- 😉 My story follows the PHOTO PROMPT below and link tool. I enjoy honest comments and welcome constructive criticism. 😀
PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Ted Strutz
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
BENEATH BUNKER HILL
Determined to keep his promise to Joseph’s orphans and give him a proper burial, Paul searched the grave where dozens were buried. Flies buzzed. Maggots burrowed into the eye-sockets of the nine months’ fallen patriots. Mouldering flesh and matted hair cleaved tenuously to shattered skulls. His gorge rose. He covered his nose and mouth. How would he ever recognise his friend amongst so many?
His thoughts wandered to a day long-past.
****
“Remarkable, Master Revere.” Joseph studied his smiling reflection.
****
Sunlight glinted off a bit of copper in a corpse’s mouth. Paul gasped.
“My dental work. It is General Joseph Warren.”
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