flash fiction

All posts tagged flash fiction

17 January 2020

Published January 15, 2020 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 © J Hardy Carroll

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STRENGTH IN EACH TEAR

Lula cuddled and sang to her two-year-old son. The doctor’s words echoed through her mind. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. You need a miracle.”

            The screaming prayers of the itinerate preacher beseeching God for a miracle only served to add to Lula’s sorrow. Her baby would never enjoy the beauty of a red rose or a blue sky. Born too soon, the incubator stole his sight.

            “Don’t you worry. We’ll make our own miracle.”  

            Ten years later, Barry Gordy dubbed Lula’s boy Little Stevie Wonder, saying, “Mrs. Morris, your son’s musical gift is nothing short of a miracle.”

WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT- DEVOUR

Published January 11, 2020 by rochellewisoff

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section

This morning I’m taking the liberty of rerunning a Friday Fictioneers story from November of 2016. It’s historical fiction, a bit embellished perhaps…but, hey, that’s the fiction part. I added 8 words to meet the word count. (Title not included 😉 ) 

“…it was intended to be the Mercury theater’s own version of dressing up in a sheet and jumping out of a bush and saying, ‘Boo!’ Starting now we couldn’t soap all your windows and steal your garden gates by tomorrow night so we did the next best thing.” Orson Welles, October 30,1938

THE NIGHT AMERICA TREMBLED

            In 1938 my dad sprang for a new RCA Victor 7K1 console.

            The radio took a prominent place in our home. President Roosevelt’s voice filled our living room. I loved Charlie McCarthy. My sister adored Bing Crosby and soap operas like Our Gal Sunday

            One night, putting the finishing touches on my Halloween costume, mom turned the dial. “Stardust, Ramon Raquello and his orchestra.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Boring.”

            A panicked voice interrupted. “Ladies and gentlemen this is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed…”

            We cowered, believing, as many Americans did, invaders from Mars had landed.

            What a pity they weren’t real and didn’t devour the Reichstag.

10 January 2020

Published January 8, 2020 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 © C.E. Ayr

Click the Camping Frogs to Add your Link!

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

FREESTYLE INSOMNOLENCE

              The clock beside the bed ticked. Zero-dark-thirty. 3:00 AM.

              Sleep refused her while loons mocked. Ted snored away what remained of the night.

            Snozzzz. Tick-snozz. Tick-tick. Snarzzzzzz.

           “I give up!”

            Elise slipped on her swimsuit and stepped outside. Campground lights reflected off the pool water. She dove in and swam until tension floated from her shoulders.

            Ted snored his welcome when she tucked back in beside him. Deliciously drowsy, she checked the clock before drifting off. 5:00.

           Two hours later, he shook her. Sun poured through the windows. “Hey lazybones, gonna sleep all day? How ‘bout a nice invigorating swim?”

3 January 2020

Published January 1, 2020 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.

(However it’s mine…and a rerun. Some may remember it. 😉 ) Since we’re still in the holiday season I’m posting yet another rerun. This one is from January 2013.

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Click the Frog to Join the festivities!

Genre: Autobiography

Word Count: 100

SUNRISE, SUNSET

            Every Sunday my mother dragged me to my grandfather’s house. She urged me to get to know him, learn from him. After all, he’d survived Russia’s pogroms. My family history.

            I feared him and asked no questions. He offered no stories.

            One week mom took a vinyl copy of Fiddler on the Roof for him to hear. His timeworn torso sank into his recliner as he listened to Tevye the milkman sing.

            “If I were a rich man, yaba-deebee-deebee-bum.”

            Fifty years later I still remember how my austere grandfather’s granite-hard eyes transformed to liquid quartz.  “My father sang…just like that.”

***

I chose to share the following version of the song. It’s the one my grandfather listened to.

27 December 2019

Published December 24, 2019 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

Click on the Frog to join the Festivities!

Due to my scheduling error, this has gone live on Tuesday instead of Wednesday. Consider it a Christmas or Hanukkah present. Easier to leave it than take it down and start over. Oops. :/

Shalom,

Rochelle

Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! This week I’m taking a break and posting a retread from nearly six years ago. Some may recognize the story. (different photo) A special thank you to those who have been with Friday Fictioneers as long or longer than I. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A SOLDIER OF THE GREAT WAR

            In 1918 Dad deployed to France singing “Over There” and returned, months later, a sullen shell.

            Then, for Christmas 1919, Grandma gave me a stub-tailed, bull-terrier puppy. 

            Instead of the “you-can’t-keep-it” snarl I expected, Dad grinned.

            “He’s the spittin’ image of the bravest soldier in the 102nd. Bullets and mustard gas couldn’t defeat him.”  

            “He looked like a dog?”

            “Not ‘looked like,’ son. I’d a never made it outta the trenches if that pooch hadn’t…”  

            Dad coughed and blinked, took my pup under one arm, straightened to attention and raised his hand-hook to his brow.

            “Sergeant Stubby, I salute you!”       

20 DECEMBER 2019

Published December 18, 2019 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 © Dale Rogerson

Click the Frog & Hop Aboard!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STRONG MEDICINE

Susan rocked three-year-old Pierre as she watched snow fall outside the window. She kissed his damp forehead.

Six-year-old Caryl padded into the room and climbed up beside his brother. “Can you make him well, Momma?”

She tweaked Caryl’s nose. “He’ll be breaking your toys by breakfast.”

“You’re the bestest.” Caryl’s dark eyes shone. “Why did you become a doctor?”

“I was a little older than you when I watched a sick woman die. Mama sent for the doctor—not once, but four times.”

“Why didn’t he come?”

“To him she was an Indian like us and her life didn’t matter.”

 

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13 December 2019

Published December 11, 2019 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 © Mikhael Sublett

Give us a little click. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

KEEPSAKE

           Hadassah stood amid the ruins of her once elegantly furnished home.

           She ached for two-year-old Aaron who had been seized and taken to the gas chamber. Peter took a bullet trying to save their son.

Typhoid claimed thirteen-year-old Gittel hours before the liberation.

 

            Seven-year-old Gittel held out a piece of paper splotched with color.

            “What is it?”

            The child huffed. “Anyone can see it’s a butterfly.”  

            “Our daughter’s an artist.” Peter beamed. “I’ll frame it.”

 

            “How on earth…?” With a gasp, Hadassah dropped to her knees and pulled the unscathed picture from the rubble.  

            “I painted it for you, Mama.”

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