7 April 2017

Published April 5, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

ROAD KINGS

            Arthur mopped his forehead with his sleeve while holding his bicycle’s handlebar with his opposite hand. He tried to keep up with his buddy who had been blessed with longer legs.

            “Wait up, Bill!”

            The other boy grinned over his shoulder.  “Pedal faster, slowpoke. The fish ain’t gonna wait all day, ya know.”

            Once they reached the river, the boys laid their poles beside their bicycles and raced to the bank.

            Relishing the cool water, Arthur sighed. “Pedaling’s hard work. Someone oughta build a bike with a motor.”  

            “Who knows, Mr. Davidson?” Bill Harley splashed and sputtered. “Maybe someone will.”

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William S. Harley

Arthur Davidson

 

William S. Harley and Arthur Davidson circa 1914

(L-R) My Road King, Jan Fields with Arthur’s great nephew,”Willie G” Davidson and his biker babe.

VOICE OF A SPANISH DANCER – COMING TO MY SENSES

Published April 3, 2017 by rochellewisoff

COMING TO MY SENSES

        There is a scene in my second novel, FROM SILT AND ASHES, where Yussel Gitterman tells his grandchildren that the Almighty is merciful. His fifteen-year-old grandson, who has survived the violence in Eastern Europe, lashes out. “When we light candles for the dead, it will start a bonfire. How can you call that God’s mercy?”

            Yussel, who is blind, answers by pressing his hand over Lev’s eyes. He then challenges the boy to see his surroundings with his ears, nose and skin.

 “Tell me what you hear, Lev.”

“I hear Bayla and Evie’s giggles.”

“Anything else?”

For a moment Lev stood still, bit his lip and cocked his head. “Kreplakh’s (dog) snoring under the sofa. Tikvah’s (infant) bawling.”

“Good, Lev. Now what do you smell?”

“What do I smell?” Lev’s voice scaled up an octave with each word.

“You have a nose?”

“Sure.”

“And it works?”

“All right. All right. I smell…mm…sponge cake and apple pie. Coffee. Aunt Cate’s lavender perfume and Uncle Wolf’s nasty cigar.”

“You see, Lev, not all smells are pleasant. Not all sounds are sweet. But…we are alive. That, my son, is God’s mercy.”

            For the past couple of weeks, the weather in our area has been, to say the least, wet and gloomy. Although the rain is much needed, day after day of grey skies has had me digging holes in my outlook.

            Inspired by my friend, Valerie Davies’ blog https://valeriedavies.com/2017/03/26/simple-pleasures-they-may-not-be-what-you-think/           and thinking about my book’s passage, which is one of my favorites, I’ve decided to take Yussel’s challenge.

            I exercise at least five days a week—sometimes less, sometimes more. More often than not, depending on the weather, I walk to the fitness center, a little over a mile away. This way I am able to do both weight bearing and aerobic exercise.

            To some, swimming laps might seem like the penultimate boredom. Not to this Spanish Dancer. The gurgle and swish of the waves is music. I note the difference in watery tones as I vary my strokes and the way the water billows when I exhale. As I flip-turn like an Olympic swimmer to change directions, I’m weightless, buoyed by the current. Unlike an Olympic swimmer embroiled in a race, I take my time when I somersault and enjoy the patterns the ripples make. As I suspend for a few seconds I note the way the water blossoms overhead.

Spanish Dancer Human

Spanish Dancer Jellyfish

            Once showered and dressed, I’m ready for my mile trek home.

            Spring is upon us and splashes of color are everywhere—bright yellow Daffodils and Dandelions—Redbuds and Dogwoods, stunning against a Payne’s grey sky. I fill my eyes with them.

The scent of charcoal from someone’s fire the night before hangs on the breeze. Exhaust fumes and a hint of cigarette smoke taint the rain and grass scented air. I wrinkle my nose. “Not all smells are pleasant.” As I near home I breathe in the scent of hyacinths from a neighbor’s garden.

            Crossing a bridge I, listen to the voice of the water as it flows over rocks. Although I don’t know one bird’s call from another, I can tell that there are several different species singing their arias. Robins, geese, crows and owls are among the few I recognize. A lawnmower starts up in the distance. A rooster crows. Two dogs bark as I pass their turf. A chainsaw grinds and a rake scrapes the sidewalk. “Not all sounds are sweet.”

            I am happy to be alive.  

 

TO BOLDLY GO WHERE NO AUTHOR HAS GONE BEFORE

Published April 1, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today, April 1st,  Pegman takes us 225 million kilometers to Mars.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Be sure to wear your helmet, and watch out for storms!

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 Karen Rawson for hosting this mission to Mars.

Happy April One-eth. So it should surprise me that our host should choose a place like Mars? Below is my choice from the Pegman Prompt Buffet and my story, submitted for your approval. 

Genre: Memoir and Musing

Word Count: 150

WHERE NO AUTHOR HAS GONE BEFORE

            In the 1950’s, my parents, who owned a restaurant in downtown KC, would hand my brother a few dollars and say, “Jeff, take your sister to the movies.” This afforded them a couple of child-free hours.

            Jeff chose the movies. I never minded. We saw them all—The Mysterians, Forbidden Planet, and so on—while munching popcorn and jujubes. I don’t remember being bothered by the fact that, in many of the flicks, the actors’ lips didn’t sync with the dubbed voices.

            When I turned eleven, Jeff introduced me to “The Martian Chronicles.”  I fell in love with Bradbury’s golden eyed, bronzed skinned Martians.

            My love for sci-fi has continued over the years. Yet, my writing hasn’t bent much in that direction. Heinlein I’ll never be.

            However, given the unprecedented popularity of “The Martian,” perhaps I’d attract a larger audience if I’d written, “Please Say Kaddish for Me on Mars.”

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In any event, if you do like historical fiction about the Jewish pogroms in Eastern Europe at the turn of the twentieth century you might enjoy my trilogy 😉 :

31 March 2017

Published March 29, 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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Please be considerate and try to keep your story to 100 words. Thank you. 

***

Genre: Plagiarized Poetry with Apologies to Lewis Carroll

Word Count: 100

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WHAT’S SO FUNNY?

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The sun shone on the Med,

Twas shining with all its might.

The sea was wet as wet can be.

Rusty-Drain and Pinky walked hand in hand,

Shuffling through quantities of violet sand.

“If only it were cleared away,” said Pinky. “Wouldn’t it be grand?”

*

“The time has come,” said red-nosed Rusty,

“To speak of many things:

Of poems—purple pygmies—and joy buzzers—

Of snake-proof boots and strings—

And why the Arkansas is boiling hot—

And whether pachyderms have wings.”

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“O Rusty-dear,” whined Pinky, shedding bitter tears.  

“We’ve had a pleasant run

“Alas, wee whoopee cushion have I none.”

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Any questions?

RUSTY-DRAIN

Click here if you’d like to read Original Poem

PINKY

THE VIRTUES OF SIMPLICITY

Published March 26, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman takes us to Nassau, Bahamas

How I wish this trip could be made in person. A virtual trip will have to suffice for now. The photo below is my choice from the Pegman Buffet. 😉 

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

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE VIRTUES OF SIMPLICITY

            “I’m tired of cartoons,” said the little girl with round eyes the color of ripe cocoa plums. “Tell me a story, Great-Grandpa.”

            He clicked off the television. “Soul-destroying nonsense. Shall I tell you about Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty?”

            She wrinkled her nose. “Tell me what it was like when you were a boy in the Bahamas.”

            He gathered her onto his lap. “We were so poor we didn’t have a telephone or electricity or even indoor plumbing. But we had the bluest skies at our temples and the ocean at our feet.”

            “What did you do for fun?”

            “I climbed trees, ate wild bananas and went swimming almost every day.”

            “You were lucky! Did you ever go to the movies?”  

            “I didn’t even see a movie until I was twelve.”

            “And now you’re a movie star like Denzel Washington.”

            Sidney Poitier kissed his great-granddaughter. “Nah, I’m just an ordinary guy.”

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Sidney Poitier in one of my favorite films, “To Sir with Love”in 1967

 

Sidney Poitier receives the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2009

24 March 2017

Published March 22, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Another Highway

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 © J Hardy Carroll

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Please be considerate and try to keep your story to 100 words. Thank you. 

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Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

COLD CASE

Mystery shrouded the vacant house at the end of the block.

According to the fifteen-year-old newspaper article I found while researching for a term paper, the place belonged to a young couple. One night someone broke in and savagely gutted Mrs. Jenson in her eighth month.

I asked my parents about it.

“Mr. Jenson hung himself,” said Dad. “Pity, they never found the baby.”

Mom flinched. “Glad they’re finally tearing that eyesore down.”

Dad’s spectral smile vanished and Mom turned ice-white when I presented them with the yellowed clipping and a photo of Mrs. Jenson who could’ve been my twin.

LORD OF ALL BEASTS

Published March 20, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman takes us to Kampala, Uganda.

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 J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson for hosting this challenge that I can’t seem to resist.

Due to another insanely busy weekend and no extra head space, I’m a bit late for the party. This was a learning experience for me. 

My prompt selection from the Pegman Buffet

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

LORD OF ALL BEASTS

            Assa handed the young woman a package filled with herbs. “Put these in your tea and, in less than a year, you will hold your little one in your arms, Dembe.”

            Dembe’s full lips spread into a smile and her dark cheeks shone with tears. “Thank you, I hope he will be a strong, handsome boy like yours, Mrs. Dada.”

            “Call me Mzazi, for I am not longer a wife, only a mother.”

            Gazing out the window, Assa watched her ten-year-old son trudge up the dusty road. His slow pace and stooped shoulders told her he was weary from a day of working in the fields. This would not be so had Andreas not cast them out, swearing the child was not his. Her anger burned white-hot.

            “Jambo, Miss Dembe.” He bowed as he entered the house.

            Hugging her package to her chest, Dembe nodded. “Jambo yourself, Bwana Idi Amin.”

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