3 July 2020

Published July 1, 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 © 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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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 © 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

CLICK!

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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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 © Ronda Del Boccio

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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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.”

*

Note: Alice and Ralph Kramden weren’t Jewish but they were New Yorkers which is similar. 😉 So I leave you with these words of wisdom:

Meet the Creator of Friday Fictioneers

Published May 29, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Once upon a time, eight years ago to be exact, I was a fledgling author with a newly published short story anthology. I’d recently started a blog and occasionally received more than two comments on my posts! Sigh.

One April Wednesday morning in 2012 as I scrolled through my Facebook feed I saw a notice on the Ozarks Writers League, OWL, page from someone named Madison Woods. It was a reminder that it was time for Friday Fictioneers, a weekly blog challenge that would change the course of my life.

I was hooked from the first prompt.

My first photo prompt, April 12, 2012

(I had a lot to learn about commenting and reciprocation 😉 )

Who knew that six months later I’d be adopting Madison’s baby? Enough of that! The purpose of this post is to introduce you to the lady, author and artist who birthed the idea of Friday Fictioneers.

Original Artwork © Madison Woods

CLICK HERE TO READ A RECENT INTERVIEW WITH MADISON.

29 May 2020

Published May 27, 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…you know you want to.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

AUTUMN FRAGRANCE

“How are you, GI Joe?”

Even though we listened to her every day, nobody took her seriously.

“They have forgotten about you back home. Your sacrifice means nothing to your people.”

Let her spout her bullshit, we looked forward to the music from home.

“Your great nation has abandoned you.”

After months of being shot at by the VC and suffering jungle rot, my orders came. I was headed for home!

At Travis I was met not with ticker tape and hurrahs, but with protesters screaming, “Get back on the plane, baby killer!”

Hanoi Hannah was onto something, after all.

***

Click for more info.

22 May 2020

Published May 20, 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.

Come on along and click the dancing frog to join the fun!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE LEADER OF THE BAND

Cossacks torched the shtetl of Tolochin. Flames shot up from Cantor Beilin’s home. Five-year-old Israel choked on the billowing smoke, huddled in a ditch with his brother and sisters. He had never seen Papa weep so.

A ship carried the Beilins to America. In New York’s Lower Eastside, Izzy discovered his talent and at thirteen sang on the streets for thrown pennies.

Music and America. His love for both welled up inside of him and spilled over in the songs he wrote.

Composer Jerome Kern said of Izzy, “Irving Berlin has no place in American music—he is American Music.”

***

Born in 1888, Irving Berlin lived to be 101. Trying en-capsulize him in 100 words is no easy task. While you might not be familiar with name, I’ll bet you’re familiar with his music. “Alexander’s Ragtime Band” (Scandalous in 1911), “Easter Parade,” “Puttin’ on the Ritz,” “God Bless America,” and that seasonal favorite “White Christmas” to name a few.

Irving Berlin 1906

August 18, 1790

Published May 17, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman travels to America’s smallest state, Rhode Island. As always, feel free to stroll around until you feel inspired to write up to 150 words. When you’re finished, post a link to your story on the InLinkz page to share with the other contributors. Remember that reading and commenting on the other stories is a big part of the fun!

Thanks to Josh and Karen for hosting the challenge.

Click the frog to join the fun.

With all the beautiful pictures of Providence on the Google maps menu, my research road took me about 39 miles south of Providence to Newport.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

AUGUST 18, 1790

Twelve-year-old Jacob squirmed on the wooden seat between Papa and Grandpapa Aaron. The warm August breeze through the synagogue’s open windows made him sleepy. “Why must we be here today? It’s not Shabbat.”

His grandfather patted his knee. “I came to this country when I was your age, you know.”

“Yes, Grandpapa.” Jacob rolled his eyes. How many times had he heard how his grandfather came to the colony of Newport, Rhode Island to escape oppression in Brazil? “I know.”

“What you don’t know,” Grandfather pointed to a tall man sitting in the seat of honor, “is today is the day you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”

Twenty years later, Jacob held his son on his lap. “I will never forget the day President Washington spoke at Jeshuat Israel and said these words, ‘The government of the United States gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution, no assistance.’”

*

Nu? How could I resist the first synagogue in America. Established in 1763? (Guess you could call that providence. 😉 )