24 July 2020

Published July 22, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

INHERITANCE

“Your mother committed suicide, and her sister before her.” Grandfather sneered. “Now your grandmother. You’re all cursed.”

The night before, he’d forced Charlotte to share his bed “to ease his sorrow.”

She whipped and poured eggs into a skillet. “Influenza killed Mama.”

“Your papa lied. Mark my words, you’re next.”

She plopped an omelet onto his plate. “Bon apetit.”

“Aren’t you going to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” She propped her drawing board on her lap.

“What are you drawing now?”

“You, Grandfather. I want to remember this moment.”

“What did you put in this?”

“Not much. Salt, pepper and Veronal.”

*Did she murder her grandfather? Historians are divided.

Charlotte Salomon with her grandparents

17 July 2020

Published July 15, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Genre: Rant

Word Count: 100

CUSTOMER SATISFACTION

A week ago, my “keep refrigerated” medication arrived—three days late and warm—via UPS.

I called their support number to discover “customer” and “service” is a UPS oxymoron. After pressing one for this and two for that, I complained to one agent after another. Each guaranteed pick-up and a call back from their center.

Four days later, I tossed the deceased meds and resorted to messaging UPS on social media.

The standard excuse: “Additional volume due to global health crisis. We’re working on a resolution.”

My promised UPS call came today and so did the replacement package—via FedEx.

10 July 2020

Published July 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 @ A. Noni Mouse

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Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

I REST MY CASE

My son slept on a mattress on the floor. Dirty glasses and plates with mold enough to save the planet from infection littered his room. Filthy clothes and towels covered the bed.

I fumed. “You could hide a body in this room.”

One morning I went to wake him for work. No Evan. I even called his friends.

My heart thrashed at red smears on my white cabinets.

Before I could call the police, Evan entered the kitchen. “Mo-om, why didn’t you wake me? Oh, sorry about the spaghetti sauce.”

“Told you. You can hide a body in that room.”

Weekend Writing Prompt – Syzygy

Published July 4, 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 would be such a great word in Scrabble, especially if you hit a triple word score. Of course, you’d need a blank because there are only two ‘y’s’.

WHEN FRIENDS ALIGN

“Sammi’s joking. Syzygy can’t be a real word.” Rochelle fumed.

“Look it up,” said Na’ama. “It’s between ‘systole’ and ‘Szechuan.’

“Oooh, Szechuan. Yum!” Dale flashed her million-dollar-smile. “Let’s do lunch.”

3 July 2020

Published July 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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STOP!

Jeff drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Damned red light.”

“Down, Scruffy.” Meredith looked up from her magazine. “Can you imagine the chaos without traffic lights? In fact, until 1923, our fair city of Cleveland was a mess until inventor Garrett Morgan witnessed a serious collision between an automobile and a cart. The horse had to be put down and a little girl was severely injured.”

“And…?”

“And Mr. Morgan patented a three-position traffic signal which brought order to roads worldwide. He later sold the patent to General Electric who added colored lights. Hey, Jeff?”

“What?”

“The light’s green.”

****

Garrett Morgan

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Weekend Writing Prompt – Unwelcome

Published June 27, 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.

QUARANTINE

“It itches, Mommy.” My feverish two-year-old pointed to a cluster of blisters on his chest. “Make it stop.”

“Sesame Street Live is out of the question.”

“But I’m not sick.” Six-year-old Simon whined. “It’s all Trevor’s fault.”

“Pretty sure it’s Chicken Pox,” I told Margo, the company secretary. “It’s making the rounds at daycare.”

Fortunately, Trevor had a mild case. An easy week—alas, without pay.

Fourteen days after Trevor’s outbreak, Simon woke with a bumper crop of unwelcome lesions.

Covered from stem to stern, Simon whined. “It’s all Trevor’s fault.”

***

26 June 2020

Published June 24, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Todd Foltz

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

REMOVAL

Morning sun shoots burnished orange and golden flames across the horizon as I help Elisi gather wild onions. She’ll cook them with eggs, Cherokee style.

As we dig our fingers in the moist dirt, she tells me ancestral stories.

“My grandfather grew up in Georgia. A good life.”

“If it was so good, why’d they move to Oklahoma?”

“They had no choice, Unisi. Our people walked a thousand miles, some without shoes. My great-grandmother died, giving birth.” Tears trail Elisi’s wrinkled cheek. “President Jackson claimed it was to keep us out of harm’s way.

“Don’tcha mean out of his way?”

***

Elisi is Cherokee for Grandmother and Unisi means granddaughter.

*Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, Chickasaw and Seminole had by the early 19th century begun to assimilate into Anglo-American culture. We can’t change history, but perhaps we can make our grandchildren’s history a sweeter memory.

If you have 17 minutes to spare to learn more CLICK HERE.

***

And if you have a little more time click the portrait below to listen to my latest interview with Jimmy Leonard and learn the reasons behind the painting. Thank you.

19 June 2020

Published June 17, 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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

A STROLL ALONG THE BEACH

My seventy-four-years-young grandmother walks beside me with a slight limp.

“Did you have an accident when you were a girl, Nan?”

“Polio.”

“Why aren’t your legs deformed like the kids in those old films?”

“I was only five at the time.” Nan’s eyes mist. “My mother defied our doctor, who wanted to shackle me with steel braces, and took me to one of Sister Kenny’s treatment centers. There they wrapped my legs in hot wool and forced me to exercise.”

“Didn’t that hurt?”

“Like hell.” She grins and skips toward the ocean. “Last one in the water’s a rotten egg.”

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12 June 2020

Published June 10, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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CLICK ON THE FROG

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

ANGEL UNAWARE

I worked in a grocery store with a gregarious black woman named Rochelle.

Every morning, we’d greet each other with a cheerful, “Good morning, Rochelle.”

One day as we chatted at her register, a customer with a small boy rolls through her line. She tells him, “Both of us are Rochelle. We’re twins.”

He scrutinizes us and shakes his head. Pointing to her hands he says, “No you’re not. You gots fancy fingernails and she don’t.”

American poet William Edgar Stafford said, “Kids: they dance before they learn there is anything that isn’t music”

I don’t want to grow up.

*How does my story connect to the prompt? It’s all about colour. 😉

*

Used with Permission from the Photographer

5 June 2020

Published June 3, 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.

Click the frog for adventures in literature!

Genre: Histrionic Fiction

Word Count: 100

ASK FOR MAYO AT YOUR OWN PERIL

“You want your sweet potato chips?”

“Ugh, take ‘em.” Ralph scowled “Give me the regular ones any day. I can’t believe I let you order for me. At least the pastrami sandwich was good.”

Alice savored the flavor. “For your information sweets pack a more nutritional punch than whites.”

“I’ll give you a punch.” Ralph waved his fist under her nose. “One-a these days, Alice. Pow! Right in the kisser.”

“Seriously. Sweet potatoes have more vitamin A and twice the C.”

She reached for his plate again. He clapped his hand over hers. “Keep your grubby mitts off my pickle.”

*