A MOTHER’S GIFT

Published March 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Yellowstone National Park in the US. You’ll find both streetview and photo spheres to inspire you. Choose any place within Yellowstone and write 150 words inspired by it. Once your piece is polished, you can share it with others at the link up below:

Many thanks to our tropical travelers Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge.

There were so many gorgeous photos to choose from.

This week I took an old tale out of storage. It was one of my first Friday Fictioneers stories in 2012 (when I was still just one of the gang) and, to this day, is one of my favorites. Fifty extra words afforded me the opportunity to flesh it out a bit.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

A MOTHER’S GIFT

“Walk with me now.” Wind Woman squeezed her daughter’s hand. “It’s time you meet your mother.”

Red Fawn burned with impatience. Any other time she would love to listen to Wind Woman’s many stories. They had given Red Fawn’s childhood life and song.

Today she thought only of her warrior’s raven-black hair and bronzed arms encircling her. Of all the maidens in her clan, he’d chosen her.

Following behind Wind Woman, Red Fawn pouted. “You’re my mother.”

“You must know your birth tribe. Your children must know.”

At the top of the hill the older woman pointed to two burial mounds. “When we found them, he was dead. She laid you in my arms. Then she died.”

Wind Woman’s dark eyes brimmed. She pressed her palms against Red Fawn’s cheeks. “Hair like fire. Eyes like sky. The Great Spirit gave you to me. Tomorrow I give you to Iron Wolf.”

23 March 2018

Published March 21, 2018 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 © Björn Rudberg

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As always, please be considerate to your fellow fictioneers and keep your story to 100 words or less. This does not include the title. Thank you and Shalom.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

TURN THE PAGE

“Happy birthday!” Grandma sang out in her Kentucky drawl. “G’wan, child, open your present.”

Heart thumping, Karen tore open the colorfully wrapped package. “I hope it’s my Cabbage Patch doll! Oh boy, it’s—” She fought tears.—“Tom Sawyer by M-mark Twain. Thank you.”

Grandma’s eyes flashed. “Disappointed, aintcha?”

“No, I…”Karen braced herself for a ‘when I was your age’ story.

“Betcha never heared o’ the Pack Horse Librarians.”

“Huh-uh.”

“Not many have, I reckon. In the Great Depression, them valiant ladies braved hell and high water on horseback just so’s us hill kids could have something to read.”

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16 March 2018

Published March 14, 2018 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 © Ted Strutz

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My weekly admonition to over 70 participants. Please keep your stories to 100 words or less. Thank you for your consideration.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

READY FOR MY CLOSEUP

Addie beamed. “Isn’t my little girl just the prettiest thing?”

“Her ears are a bit large,” said Addie’s mother Bertha.

Glory’s ruffled skirt flared as she skated along the sidewalk way ahead of the other children. Puffs of ribbon adorned her glossy hair and covered her ears.

“You spoil her.”

“Glory is special.” Addie shrugged.

“She’s a daydreamer. Her marks in school are deplorable. What can the future possibly hold for such a child?”

Not many years later, Addie Swanson once more beamed with pride when Gloria’s image graced the screens of movie theaters from one coast to the other.

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The actress as a child

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Gloria Swanson 1899-1983

PILGRIMAGE

Published March 11, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Abaco, Bahamas. You won’t find much in the way of streetview out in this neck of the Bahamas. Mainly because you won’t find much in the way of streets. You can use the photo provided, or dangle Pegman over the map to find your own slice of paradise.

Your mission is to write 150 words inspired by what you find. Will you treat us to comedy? Tragedy? Sci Fi Slipstream Historical Fiction? Your only limit is your imagination. And of course the previously mentioned 150 words. Once you’ve polished your story-poem-essay, share it with other Pegman contributors using the link up below.

The pictures of the beaches and the ocean took me back to the Virgin Islands where I fell in love with snorkeling 😀 My story has absolutely nothing to do with that. 😉 As always thank you to Karen and Josh for facilitating the challenge that keeps drawing me in for the extra 50 word plunge.

Genre: Speculative Fantasy

Word Count: 150

PILGRIMAGE

“You never cease to amaze me,” said Dale.

Shrugging my blazing shoulders, I replied. “You mean my faulty memory? Oy, I wish I’d remembered my sunscreen this afternoon.”

Waves gently lapped the shore as sand and water squished between my bare toes. Moonlight sparkled on the water like sequins under a spotlight.

Dreams of meeting my friend sans Skype screen had finally become a reality. Nights of girl-talk followed days of sightseeing, sampling Bahamian food and snorkeling.

“Thanks for accompanying me to services tonight,” I said.

“Wouldn’t have missed it. I loved the music.”

“The shul’s named after Luis de Torres, Christopher Columbus’ interpreter—first Jew to set foot on the island—a Marrano—convert. 1492 was the middle of the Inquisition so his choices were become a Catholic or—”

“Leave it to you.”

“What?”

“One synagogue, 50 Jews and you managed to find them.”

“Shabbat shalom, mon amie.”

*

Yep, I did find one. Maybe someday I’ll really get to visit it (and Dale) in person.

9 March 2018

Published March 7, 2018 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 © Sandra Crook

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Please be considerate of your fellow fictioneers. Keep your word count to 100 or less. Thank you.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

HOUSE OF LIFE

I was only a child in 1943, the year my world flipped upside down. The Germans arrested my father. What could my caro papà have done to make him a prime enemy of the Third Reich?

Our neighbor, who was a nurse, took Mammina and me to Fatebenefratelli Hospital. “Dr. Borromeo will take good care of you.”

“But I’m not sick,” I said.

“Anzi, bella, you are very sick with Syndrome K.” Dr. Borromeo assigned us to a room with a sign on the door that read, Altamente Contagioso “Any time you see Wehrmacht uniforms, cough like you are dying.”

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Fatebenefratelli Hospital

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

Published March 4, 2018 by rochellewisoff

There is a road some fifty-three miles NNE of New York City with a strange reputation. This week, Pegman has stranded you there.Volumes have been written about Clinton Road in West Milford, NJ, but you only need to write 150 words. The only limit is your imagination.Feel free to capture your own streetview. If you’re not up to a weird tale, feel free to wander anywhere within the state of New Jersey for your story.Once your 150 words are polished, you can share with other contributors using the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge that gives me 50 more words to play with. 😉

While the photo below is taken from the Pegman Buffet, I must confess, despite the directives, I didn’t stay in New Jersey. I went to Rickey Road in Raytown, Missouri, where, as with Clinton Road, the stories abound.

Genre: Fictionalized Memoir

Word Count: 150

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

I looked forward to my troop’s wilderness excursions. Had it not been for scouting, I might never have seen the great outdoors beyond my backyard. My parents, while not religiously observant, adhered to the eleventh commandment—“Jews don’t camp.”

Overnights were the best. Following an afternoon of dodging poison ivy and climbing hills, we’d gather around the campfire. Our mouths and fingers gooey from roasted marshmallows, we topped off the day with ghost stories about the infamous and spooky Rickey Road.

“My uncle found a man’s head in the grass,” said Lucy in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooo,” we’d giggle. “Gross!”

Margo’s cheeks glowed in the blaze. “It opened its eyes and screamed, ‘I want my golden arm!’”

Our childish imaginations kicked into overdrive. Each storyteller sought to outdo the last.

Back home in my own bed, I wouldn’t sleep for a month without a nightlight.

I miss those good times.

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Troop 499-Can you find me?

2 March 2018

Published February 27, 2018 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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NOTE: Oops! Tuesday is NOT the new Wednesday. As some of you already know, I write and schedule my stories ahead. (Keeps my sanity…well…somewhat.) At any rate, I scheduled the wrong start date. At least the prompt is here…some might remember the week my page went live but the prompt didn’t show up with it. Thanks for understanding.

Please be considerate of your fellow fictioneers and keep your word-count at 100 words or less–title not included. Thank you.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

REQUIEM FOR A HEAVYWEIGHT

“What’s your name, kid?”

Winded from his match, the coal miner’s son took a deep breath. “Volodymyr Palahniuk.”

His prospective manager punched Volodymyr’s stomach. “Tight as a drum. And you’re lightning in the ring, but that moniker’s gotta go. Whatcha think of……say… Jack Brazzo?”

“I like it.”

“Atta boy.”

Over the next year, Jack scored 15 victories and 12 KO’s. A force to be reckoned with until Joe Baksi, another coal miner’s son, outpointed him.

Years later Jack, who changed Brazzo to Palance and turned to theater, said, “You must be nuts to get your head beat in for $200.”

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