10 April 2020

Published April 8, 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 © Jeff Arnold

CLICK ME! PLEASE!

Thanks to my husband Jan who found an article about the following event. As soon as he shared the article I knew what my story would be. Just in time for Passover. Matzo and sweet wine for everyone.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHY IS THIS NIGHT DIFFERENT FROM ALL OTHER NIGHTS?

PFC Nachman Levy recited the four questions for the hastily-organized Passover seder. At nineteen, he was the youngest in the “Rainbow Division” so the task fell to him.

“We’ve taken Dahn from the Third Reich.” Wearing his tallis over his fatigues and a twinkle in his eye, infantry rabbi Captain Bohnen led the ceremony reading from the hagaddah. “This is the first Jewish publication in Germany in seven years.” He brandished a crumpled ink-stained Nazi flag. “We put this to good use—cleaning the printing press.”

1,500 Jewish-American soldiers cheered.

Nachman’s pulse raced. He raised his cup and shouted. “L’chaim!”

The Haggadah begins with a message from Major General Collins: “My Jewish Soldiers– The celebration of Passover should have unusual significance for you at this time, for like your ancestors of old you too are now engaged in a battle against a modern Pharaoh. This Pharaoh has sought, not only to enslave your people, but to make slaves of the whole world.”

General Collins also told attendees, “I am sure this Passover will live in your memories forever. You celebrate it in Germany, the land in which Hitler said no Passover would be celebrated for at least a thousand years.”

Rainbow Division Insignia

SPIRIT OF LOVE

Published April 5, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman heads west to the quaintly-named Happy Jack, Arizona. Your mission as always is to use the photosphere/street view part of Google Maps to wander around and find something that inspires you to write up to 150 words, then post your work to the InLinkz below. Reading and commenting on other stories is part of the experience, so you won’t want to miss out! Do you best, and have fun!

I didn’t really have a clue until this morning what to write. On the other hand, I needed a diversion and it’s not like I have anywhere special to go. Many thanks to Josh and Karen (Good to see you back!) for hosting the challenge.

Such a peaceful setting. I would love to be there right now.

Genre: Historical Fiction

(I imagine this to take place before the Conquistadors. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 😉 )

Word Count: 150

SPIRIT OF LOVE

During her eighteenth summer Sicheii told Johona he had given her to Kai, a man from another Diné clan. In her anger, she stomped her feet and wailed, beating the air with her fists. “I don’t want a man.”

“My decision is made. Kai is a dependable man,” her grandfather told her. “He will give you a home and many children.”

The Spirit had not blessed Kai with good looks. His nose was too big and his eyebrows too thick. Johona wept bitterly on their marriage night and refused to share her bed with him.

Kai did not force her. “My hogan is yours. I’ll wait. “He flashed a crooked-toothed smile.

Two summers later, Johona gave thanks to Mother Earth at the ceremony celebrating her son’s first laugh. She rested her head on Kai’s broad chest.

“This child brings joy!” Sicheii proclaimed

“And,” Johona beamed, “he’s handsome like his father.”

*Sicheii is Navajo for Grandfather

Parents, remember your baby’s first laugh? What a sweet sound. Imagine a ceremony to celebrate it? How beautiful is that? When I read about it, I had to write about it. 😀

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3 April 2020

Published April 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 © Douglas M. MacIlroy

Click the Frogs to join the fun!

Genre: Hysterical Faction

Word Count: 100

HASHTAG-GIMME-A-BREAK

Ah those befuddled moments between waking and the first swallow of coffee. Anything’s possible, isn’t it? Or so it seemed this morning when I turned on my iPad to find Keanu Reeves followed me on Twitter. Fame had found me. I followed him back.

A few minutes later, I received his private message. “Good day, beautiful, your face looks so familiar. Are you an actress?”

Puh-lease. I was born on a day, but not yesterday.

I went to his page @John_wink. Wink?

Hard to believe a star of Keanu’s ilk only had twenty-seven followers.

Unfollow. Block. Report spam. Bye-bye fame.

KEYSTROKES

Published March 25, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Another idea struck me this morning and decided why not double dip? This is what happens when a person wakes before 04:00 with her mind on spin cycle. A hearty thank you to my mother who sat me down with my brother’s Gregg textbook and insisted I learn to type. I argued, “What does an artist need with typing?”

PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

Genre: Questionable

Word Count: 100

KEYSTROKES

“Q is for quill which is what Charles Dickens used to write his stories.

W is for the white-out I would need were I using a manual machine.

E is for happy endings.

R is for ruminations, renderings and rebuttals. It’s also the first letter in my name.

T is for typewriter. Imagine writing a novel in longhand. Hats off to Christopher Latham Sholes.

Y is for yesteryear when life was simpler. Was it really?”

Rochelle studied her brightly-lit desktop screen. “Not so sure about this one.” She tapped the delete key. “Or maybe…” She hit CTRL Z. “Viva technology.”

Could I avoid history? I think not. CLICK HERE.

The reason Jeff took the picture. 😉

27 March 2020

Published March 25, 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 © Jeff Arnold

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN!

Another installment to celebrate Women’s History Month. 😀 This week, a woman from my own tribe. Some of us remember her from the TV show in the 60’s called “I’ve Got a Secret.”

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FOR SUCH A TIME

“I would’ve been taller.” Bella gaffed off her daughter’s complaints. “But we couldn’t afford it. Back to your homework.”

At 5’10”, twelve-year-old Bess stood head and shoulders above her classmates, garnering her the role of Olive Oyl in the school play. An honor she didn’t want.

As she matured, her awkwardness became statuesque grace.

Bess’s sister entered her in the Miss New York beauty pageant. Although embarrassed, she competed, refusing to use a pseudonym that didn’t sound “so Jewish.”

On August 15, 1945, in the shadow of the liberation of Auschwitz, Bess Myerson proudly wore the crown of Miss America.

*******

20 March 2020

Published March 18, 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

Green, not blue, click on the frog anyway. (You were expecting maybe poetry?)

A little snippet about Claudette Colvin not COVID 😉 Another woman history glossed over.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WRITE ME DOWN IN HISTORY

“’Thy kingdom come…’” The fifteen-year-old girl huddled on the musty cot, gazing through jail cell bars. Her arms ached from brutal policemen’s hands, gauging and yanking. “’…Thy will be done…’”

“Stand strong,” whispered Sojourner Truth.

“You shall overcome,” sang Harriet Tubman.

Now in her 80’s, Claudette Colvin recalls that fateful Wednesday, March 2, 1955, when she refused to give up her bus seat to a white woman.

“If she’d been an elderly white woman, I might have given her my seat.”

Few know or remember it was a child who inspired Rosa Parks and led her people out of bondage.

*

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Let Your Light Shine

Published March 16, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman finds himself in the once-great forests of Minnesota in the American Midwest. Your mission is to wander around using the google photosphere until something inspires you to write 150 words. When you’re satisfied, post your link to this week’s InLinkz site to share with your fellow participants. Remember, reading and commenting on other stories is part of the fun.

Have a good time, and do your best!

Thanks to Josh for keeping the lamps lit and the wicks trimmed.

My research trail set my feet firmly in Split Rock Lighthouse. Keep your hands clean and sanitized. Be well and enjoy the read. 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

LET YOUR LIGHT SHINE

“G.T. did I ever tell you about the time a sea monster came up out of Lake Superior.”

The boy’s eyes grew round as wagon wheels. “Really?”

“Holy oh jumpin’ up and down mackinaw city bobcat rooster! Big as a cockingaway.”

Tom Hassing raised his hands over his head for emphasis. “Would I lie?”

“There’s no such thing as cockingways, Grandpa.” G.T.’s sister Terry giggled. “He’s just making it up, isn’t he, Grandma?”

Anna tugged Terry’s ponytail. “It’s all those hours in the tower keeping the lamp burning so ships don’t get lost in the night.”

Despite the years of isolation between the 1930’s and 40’s she never lacked for entertainment with her lighthouse keeper. How he loved telling tales, first to their two children and now to their daughter’s children.

Anna took a pan of sticky buns from the oven, basking in the yeasty, fresh-baked cinnamon aroma and laughter.

Assistant keeper Tom Hassing came to Split Rock light station for a half-season in 1933, returned in 1938 and stayed there with his wife, Anna, until he retired in 1953. During these years, the posting was year-round and they lived there with their children, Evelyn and Harry. Later, after she was married, Evelyn Hassing Amell’s son and daughter, Tom and Terry, would spend time with their grandfather at the light. My story is based on an interview with grandson Tom, called G.T.

13 March 2020

Published March 11, 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.

The frog’s not blue, but will be if you don’t click her.

Genre: Women’s History

Word Count: 100

FROSTED YELLOW WILLOW

“Wong Liu Tsong often played hooky from school to see movies at the Nickelodeon.” Lily Wu read her report aloud. “When she grew up, she changed her name to Anna May Wong and overcame many obstacles to become a famous film star.”

Tim Wu rolled his eyes. “If it’s a great Chinese actor you want, write about Jackie Chan.”

“It’s Women’s History Month. Now—one of Anna’s biggest disappointments came in 1935 when Hollywood passed her over for the role a Chinese woman in The Good Earth.”

“So?”

“The role went to a Caucasian actress. What’s wrong with this picture?”

*Frosted Yellow Willow is the literal translation of Wong Tsiu Tsong.

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SILENCE OF THE LAMBS

Published March 9, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman hitches up his camel for a trip deep into the Saudi Arabian desert, an oasis known as Wadi ad-Dawasir. There is no street view, but more than a few photospheres. Feel free to wander until you find something that appeals to you, then write up to 150 words about it. Sharing, reading, and commenting is the meat of a photo prompt, so please participate. If you enjoy yourself, please encourage others to join this community.

Thanks for playing, and do your best! Thanks to Josh for hosting.

To read other stories, click here.

Two weeks in a row for me. 😉 I debated over this one. But being one day after International Women’s Day, it seems right to speak out for women who have no voice.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

SILENCE OF THE LAMBS

We met in Toronto Pearson airport, where Clemira sought asylum. Her dark eyes broke my heart. She grasped my hands in both of hers. “Thank you for your help.”

Two years before I myself fled Saudi Arabia after my father killed my sister for going out in public without her Hajib. He poured acid on her while she slept. In my dreams I still hear her screams.

“I will do whatever I can.” I kissed Clemira’s scarred cheek. “How did you manage to escape?”

“The new law enabling women to drive saved me.” The plucky seventeen-year-old mother of three squared her shoulders. “My passport is up to date from our vacation. My brother—a rare sympathetic man—bought my ticket. I packed my things while Akbar slept. Then I took the car and drove to the airport.”

“Aren’t you worried about your children?”

“Akbar won’t beat them. They are boys.”

6 March 2020

Published March 4, 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.

The frog is far from blue. Click him anyway.

Some of you might remember the following story. It’s a retread from the summer of 2014. When it came up in conversation recently, I decided it was time to give it another run. Different photo and some know the reason why. 😉

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHAT’S ON THE MENU?

“There’s so much I haven’t seen, Mom.”

“It’ll keep. You’re only eighteen.”

“I’m a woman.”

“You’re still a child. The city will eat you alive.”

“It’s a full scholarship.”

Three months later, miles from parental scrutiny, Evelyn strolled into the Pratt Institute studio, virgin sketchbook under her arm.

She lowered herself onto an art bench, looked up at the statuesque model on a raised platform, held her pencil erect at arm’s length to calculate perspective and, with great relish, contemplated all that nature had bestowed upon him.

“Study hard,” her mother had said.

Evelyn smiled.

“I will, Mom, I will.”