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.
He smiled from his front seat on the bus. Zvi obviously enjoyed his job—introducing a group of dusty pilgrims to Eretz Yisra’el.
“The field on the left is 100% cotton. On the right—50% polyester.”
Looking beyond his twinkling eyes, one could see the depth of his faith and commitment to his ancient homeland. I only imagined what he experienced as an IDF soldier in 1967 for he avoided speaking of it.
Eleven years later I still hear his voice and his daily greeting.
“Today in Israel there is no rain, there is no snow. Don’t worry. Be happy.”
Zvi with his daughter Sarah, also a tour guide.
Shalom!
“Move, you dumb ass!” “Yes, dear.” With Cuzzin Kent.
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.
Here it is, Friday Fictioneers Eve and I still couldn’t resist Mr. Pegman. I’m very late to the party due to an extremely full weekend. My first art show/book signing was an immense success. So with a sheepish, but happy grin, I submit my story. Many Mahalos to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this challenge.
Pitcairn Island
When I saw Pitcairn Island, my mind went to Fletcher Christian and Captain Bligh. Christian’s descendants still live there after over 300 years. At any rate, I chose a different facet of its history.
MUTINY ON THE USS MGM
“The role of a lifetime and you’re perfect for it,” Frank handed the actor the script. “I promise you an epic your fans won’t forget.”
Steely gray-green eyes pierced through Frank. “Get Fairbanks, he’s a natural in sissy knee-pants.”
“That’s what they wore in the 1700’s.”
“And you want me to wear a damned pigtail? Like a little girl?” The actor ran his fingers through his dark waves and flexed his pectorals. “I have an image to maintain.”
Frank’s irritation at the petulant performer mounted. “Queues were normal for manly men of the day. And…er…one more thing, Clark. Seamen in the Royal Navy weren’t allowed facial hair.”
Clark Gable tossed the script in Frank’s lap. “You want me to shave? Have you lost your mind?”
Frank held up a photo of a Polynesian beauty “Meet Mamo Clark. Your costar.”
A dimpled smile spread Gable’s lips. “The moustache will grow back.”
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.
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.
Thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for heading up this challenge, one that I can’t seem to avoid. 😉 I’m not even caught up on my Friday Fictioneers reading, commenting and replying.
The Gold Souk in Dubai
Genre: Memoir
Word Count: 150
PRICELESS
“Cash for your old gold,” boasted a reputable local jeweler.
He set up a table at the front of the grocery store where I worked as a cake designer. There he made his offer to employees and customers alike.
“Wish I had something to trade in, I could use the money,” said Maggie, my coworker. “You got anything?”
My husband is something of a jewelry junkie and bought some stunning gold pieces while stationed in Dubai during the Gulf War. Nothing I care to part with. My favorite is a simple heart ring, the symbol of storms we’ve weathered in our marriage.
“Nah, but I wonder what this is actually worth.”
Maggie took it and left the bakery. When she returned she tossed it on the counter. “It’s fake.”
Isn’t it sad that a “trained professional” didn’t recognize 24 carat gold?
Like my daddy used to say, “It’s always something.”
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It’s rarely left my right index finger since December 1999. 24 carat gold is soft and easily bent. BUT it’s never turned my finger green.
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.
Trina wasn’t forced to wear a yellow star like her friend Hanna, but she was ostracized by the other children who called her schwarz schimpanse.
One day a uniformed woman entered the classroom. “Trina Azikiwe, I’m here to take you to the doctor.
“I’m not sick.”
The officer dealt Trina’s cheek a stinging blow. “Silence, Rheinlandbastard!”
Trina would never forget the cruel procedure that rendered her forever childless or the doctor’s admonition. “Never have sexual relations with good Germans.”
Good Germans? There were none better than her golden-haired mother and handsome bronze father who perished for their ‘sin’ in Dachau.
***
NOTE -Schwarz schimpanze – Black chimpanzee…(Do I need to translate ‘Rheinlandbastard?’)
Once more, following the research trail I learned some history I didn’t know. If that’s not wonderful enough, this is ART history.
Mural by Carlos Mérida – Institute of Social Security in Guatemala City
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 150
OPUS MAJESTUOSO
Carlos hunched over the piano, hands over his ears, tears dripping on the ivory keys. “No puedo oír la música. Mi vida se acabó.”
“Mi hijo,” Papa squeezed Carlos’ shoulder, “my son, you are only fifteen. It is sad that sickness damaged your ears, but your life is just beginning.”
“How can I be a pianist if I cannot hear the music?”
Papa opened a varnished wooden box containing tubes of color and various sized brushes. “Your art teacher says you show gran potential.”
Rolling one of the brushes between his fingers, a slow smile spread Carlos’ lips. His heart raced as he stroked an imaginary canvas. “I will paint todo el mundo, the whole world.”
___
51 years later, in 1958, Delilah Mérida’s smile radiated love and pride when the Guatemalan government honored his artistic achievement with the Order of the Quetzal. “My husband makes music for the eyes.”
Although I hope it came through in context, here’s the translation: “No puedo oír la musica. Mi vida se acebó.” -“I can’t hear the music. My life is over.”
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.
No doubt everyone has their own version of my story. This came to mind on one such night where I solved all of the world’s troubles and none of my own.
Genre: Somewhat humorous
Word Count: 99
EARWORM
I stare at the ceiling fan, hoping to hypnotize myself into oblivion. Instead my tangled thoughts rage with each rotation.
“Sherry ba-abeee…Sher-er-reee.”
Midnight.
“I’m gonna make a you my-yi-yi-in.”
“Authors are a dime a dozen. Chaim Potok I’ll never be. Loser.”
“Come, come, come out toniiight.”
01:45
Every person who’s ever wronged me comes to mind. I plot revenge.
“We’ll dance the night awaaaay.”
03:30. Numpty o’clock. I should just get up.
Finally my head sinks into the hollow of my pillow and I succumb to a delicious wave of drowse.
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.
Addie, tall for fourteen, Denise, the dress-up princess, Cynthia, and Carole, the Girl Scout who had earned every known badge, prepared for the youth service. I envied them as they tied each other’s sashes. I was only four, too young to participate.
Cynthia’s dark eyes sparkled. “How many times should we forgive?”
Her smile illuminating the Birmingham church basement, Addie, winked at me. “Seventy times seven.”
Moments later, the Grand Dragon spewed fire and brimstone. Time halted at 10:22 that September Sunday morning in 1963. Eternity claimed four angels.
I cannot forgive.
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“I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.” Martin Luther King, Jr.
This blog offers a different type of book review—one that’s combined with vocabulary building. Included here, following a short review, are a few particularly interesting words I found in Please Say Kaddish for Me. The definitions are followed by quotes from the story.
A particularly talented writer, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is also an artist who creates her own cover art.
Please Say Kaddish for Me is the story of a sixteen-year-old Jewish girl who escapes an attack on her home in Russia in 1899. Czarist marauders kill her entire family. Young Havah Cohen barely survives the frigid cold as she runs away in just a nightgown. She fortunately ends up in the arms of another loving Jewish family. But her struggles don’t end as more persecution of the people of her faith reigns down. The story unfolds as Havah builds her physical and emotional strength, learns to adapt to new situations…