ECONOMICS

Published November 16, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Shewdagon Pagoda in Myanmar. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write up to 150 words inspired by this week’s location. Feel free to use the image supplied in the prompt, or take to Google maps and find your own view with in the borders of Myanmar.

Once your piece is polished, share it with others at the linkup below. Reading and commenting is part of the fun!

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this round the world blog challenge.

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 150

ECONOMICS

Muu Yi tugged at the wang around her neck. “It makes my shoulders hurt, Aahwarr.”

“You only have five coils.” Her grandmother glanced up from her loom and grinned. “Wait until you have eighteen like me.”

“Why do we wear them when a lot of the women in the village don’t?”

“Modern girls. They care nothing for tradition.” Aahwarr hunched over her weaving and clucked her tongue. Then she straightened. “Listen. I will tell you a story. Thousands of years ago, a sorcerer fell in love with and married a dragon. The dragon laid three eggs which became the Pa-Oh, the Karen and our tribe the Padaung. To honor our dragon mother we make our necks look like hers.”

“I am proud to wear the rings.” Muu Yi clapped her hands. “I like that story.”

“So do the tourists, little one.” Aahwarr patted her granddaughter’s cheek. “So do the tourists.”

15 November 2019

Published November 13, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Roger Bultot

Hop right up and Click the Frog

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

O MEIN PAPA

Papa belted out prayers with off-key passion. A few small congregations who couldn’t afford real cantors hired him as a ba’al tefillah.

Shabbos mornings, Natty Birnbaum stood close to him and sang. He’d bask in Papa’s approving smile. It was the only time he ever saw it.

When Natty was seven Papa passed away while reading prayers.

Nearly 100 years later, Birnbaum, better known as George Burns, remembered with a wry smile, “After he sang in one little synagogue, the following synagogue, instead of hiring him, they kept it closed during Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.”

Natty never forgave God.

Wanna know more? Got 10 minutes? To watch the video CLICK HERE

WHITE NIGHTS

Published November 9, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman goes to Guyana, South America. Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by this week’s location. Feel free to use the image supplied with the prompt, or zoom in to Guyana on Google Maps and find your own inspiration. Warning, there are not a lot of photo spheres, but the more you zoom around the more you’ll find.

Once your piece is polished, share it with others at the link up below. You may contribute, poetry, prose, or essay–or whatever the location inspires you to write. Reading and commenting is part of the fun!

click the frog. You know you want to.

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this challenge.

The following is an expanded version of a story I posted 4 years ago in Friday Fictioneers. For those of us who remember…let us never forget.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

WHITE NIGHTS

Like a frightened animal, the girl huddled in the darkest corner of an abandoned shack on the beach. I offered her refuge in my winter home in Bridgetown. After much coaxing she accepted.

“Where are your parents?” I asked. “Do they know where you are?”

She fell into my arms, shaking with anguished sobs. “Dead. Everyone’s dead.”

I embraced her, unable to stem my own tears. “You’re safe now.”

“He promised us a rainbow family in Paradise,” she whispered the next day over lunch.

“We saw the bastard on the news. How did you escape?”

“I told the guard Father wanted flowers for the meeting. I hid under bushes all day, ran all night and then stole a fishing boat. I floated a long time.” She licked her blistered lips.

“Scorcher today.” My husband burst onto the patio, pitcher in hand. “Kool-Aid anyone?”

“No, thank you.” She choked. “Not ever.”

DRINKING THE KOOL-AID

8 November 2019

Published November 6, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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

I’m not blue but I will be if you don’t click me to join the fun. 😉

Genre: Histrionic Fiction

Word Count: 100

A WRINKLE IN TIME

Elise wound a chestnut curl around her index finger and frowned. “Time for a little Miss Clairol.” Twisting her lips into a wry grin, she tilted her head. “Maybe I’ll just dye it purple.”

After she brushed her teeth, she cleansed her face and applied her foundation repeating the Mary Kay mantra she had learned years ago, “When you pat you place, when you rub you remove.”

The morning ritual continued with eye-shadow and mascara.

She gave her lips a coat of color and studied her reflection over the sink. “How the hell did my mother get in my mirror?”

*

My mother didn’t really look like this. 😉

1 November 2019

Published October 30, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Fatima Fakier Deria

The frog isn’t blue but click him anyway. 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE LIFE OF THE PARTY

Hibiscus aka Brownie brushed away a tear as she put the finishing touches on her article for the Detroit News. She wrote a good life, but her “Love-Haven” column was fantasy.

A divorced single mother, she became a top saleslady for Stanley Home Products.

However, a bowl made from polyethylene slag changed her life.

“Its burping lid is amazing.” At parties she dropped the full plastic bowl on the floor. It remained sealed, clinching sale after sale.

“Brownie Wise, my vice-president, you could sweet-talk a bee out of its honey,” said inventor Earl Tupper.

Hence, the Tupperware™ party was born.

*

The first woman to ever be on the cover of Business Week, Brownie Wise was a force with which to reckon. Sadly, her story doesn’t have a happy ending. Thanks to Earl Tupper’s ego, her name was expunged from the Tupperware company. While Earl Tupper sold the company for millions, Brownie Wise lived the rest of her life in obscurity, refusing to even own a piece of Tupperware.

CLICK for more.

Brownie at her best

Earl Tupper showing Brownie the raw slag

Brownie and Jerry Wise

SEEKING ASYLUM

Published October 28, 2019 by rochellewisoff

In the spirit of Halloween, Pegman ventures to one of the creepiest places in the United States, the condemned Overbrook Lunatic Asylum in Cedar Grove, New Jersey. A quick Google search will reveal to the writer many horrifying facts about this cursed place, some of which may inspire up to 150 original words to be shared with fellow Pegman adventurers. Feel free to stroll around until you find something you like, then post your work to the InLinks site. Have fun, and happy Halloween!

I’m not sure how original my 150 words are. This story is somewhat out of my comfort zone, which I’m told is a good thing for a writer. 😉 I guess you could say it haunted me.

Many thanks to Josh and Karen for this challenge which is all about location, location, location.

CLICK FROG TO JOIN IN THE FUN

Word Count: 150

SEEKING ASYLUM

My brother kicked a pile of chipped paint and crumbled floor. “What a shame they’re tearing down this old loony bin.”

“Yeah.” Light beamed through a broken window, illuminating a broken-down piano. “Guess we’ll have to find somewhere else.”

“They say it’s haunted.”

I startled. The voice belonged to a girl sitting in a lopsided chair. She skimmed her fingertips across the yellowed keys, a faraway look in her sky-blue eyes. “I don’t believe it for a minute, do you?”

I pointed to her old-fashion nurse’s cap and uniform. “Halloween costume?”

“Tis the season.” She giggled. “Wanna hear some Scott Joplin?”

“Maple Leaf Rag” shook the walls.

When she finished I applauded and turned to my brother. “Is she amazing or what?”

He scratched his head and sent me a puzzled look. “Who?”

I whipped back around to see a tattered nurse’s cap on the keyboard. “Umm…nobody. Race ya home.”

25 October 2019

Published October 23, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Jean L. Hays

Hi-ho! Give us a little click.

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PIN MONEY

“Drat. This is my favorite skirt.” Dale noted her unraveled hem. “I left my sewing kit at home.”

Rochelle dug through her purse. “Here you go.” She handed a safety pin to her friend. “Temporary fix.”

“Thanks.”

“Ever wonder who invented the safety pin?”

“No. Do you?”

“Glad you asked.” Rochelle grinned. “William Hunt, a little-known inventor from Martinsburg, New York, created it from 20 centimeters of wire in 1849 so he could pay off a $15 debt. He later sold the patent for a mere $400.”

“Oy!” Dale rolled her eyes. “I just had to ask Encyclopedia Britannica Wisoff-Fields.”

CLICK TO KNOW MORE

Note…Where did 7 years go? 7 years ago I was working on my first novel, employed as a cake decorator in a local grocery store and had just begun to write for Friday Fictioneers. I loved the feedback and meeting other writers around the world. Sandra Crook, Russell Gayer and Ted Strutz were among the first to welcome me. I had only been an FF’r for 6 months when Friday Fictioneers creator, Madison Woods decided it was time to move onto other things. I was devastated. Coerced by my husband and two other friends, I begged Madison to let me take the helm. Click Here to check out my first story as facilitator. Thank you to those who participate, reciprocate and have become great friends! ❤

18 October 2019

Published October 16, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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

POKE THE FROG TO JOIN

Thanks to Keith Hillman for his Froggie adaptations.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

STATE OF ISRAEL

A cool breeze ruffled Shlomit’s hair. How different from her previous life when head-coverings symbolized her devotion to Adoshem and Avi.

Avi Weinstein, zealous for Torah. His parents’ only son. The perfect husband.

After her seventh miscarriage, he beat her.

Even now her footsteps pounded out his accusations along the cobblestone Jerusalem street. “Murderer! Mother of death.”

Three years ago Avi died, leaving no heirs.

Shlomit fled the Hasidim and their restricting laws.

Beside her Elan squeezed her hand. No side-curls. Colorful clothes. Her devoted Jewish husband.

Avi’s hateful words faded. Elan patted her swollen tummy. “Beautiful mother of life.”

***

While I didn’t see the women flashing their the Haredim, I did witness the demonstration of these men and boys storming the streets of Jerusalem yelling, “Shabbos!” firsthand.

And here’s the link to another video about the state of Israel. It’s kind of long so it’s up to you to watch or not watch. 😉 Like anyone else, I have my opinions but I’ll not share them here. I do wish we could all celebrate each other’s differences.

CLICK

INSTINCT

Published October 13, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to the Arlington National Cemetery in Washington DC, USA.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the prompt. Feel free to use the location supplied above, our take your own tour of Washington D.C. via Google maps and find a view that inspires you.

You may write poetry, prose, essay, limerick, sonnet, or fiction of any flavor. Once your piece is polished, share it with others at the linkup below. Reading and commenting is part of the fun.

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this unique challenge. To join click the frog.

image-arlington_national_cemetery_public_domain-10944

This week I revisited and fleshed out a story I posted in Friday Fictioneers four years ago.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

INSTINCT

Six years my senior, my gentle brother was my hero. He was the valedictorian of his graduating class. Awarded a scholarship to Harvard, he owned the future.

I had just turned twelve when his draft notice came. Vietnam consumed every newscast. Mom was inconsolable.

The day he left to go overseas I clung to him and sobbed. “I’ll never see you again.”

“Duty calls, Sis.” He pinched my cheek and kissed my nose. “I’ll be back. You’ll see.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

***

Tonight we celebrate his sixty-fifth birthday. His hands tremble as he cuts the cake. The knife falls from his fingers and tears stream down his stubbled cheeks.

“I cut off their ears and hung them from a chain on my belt loop.” He swallows a pill with a swig of beer. “Thirty-six kills. God, I miss it.”

My brother did come back from Vietnam but he never returned.

11 October 2019

Published October 9, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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.