25 January 2019

Published January 23, 2019 by rochellewisoff

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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.

I must make mention here, that in the going on 7 years I’ve hosted Friday Fictioneers, this is one of the few Ted actually sent for use as a prompt. Usually I just ‘borrow’ them (with express permission, of course. 😉 Thanks, Ted. 😀

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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Genre: Historical Faction

Word Count: 100

MCMLIII

“What’s so special about 1953?”

For one, Bob Wisoff bought his first car. A ’53 Chevrolet Bel Air.

September 4, he and Evalyne welcomed their second child.

On the same date, West Indian native, Clothilda Jacobs delivered her 5^th child, Lawrence. It was the twelfth day of New York’s longest recorded heatwave.

The Chevy is long gone.

Lawrence went on to delight audiences as Sweathog Freddy “Boom-Boom” Washington with a cocky grin and, “Hi there.”

Bob’s daughter, Rochelle, married and raised three sons. She still creates art, literature, and, occasionally, a bit of havoc.

It was a very good year.

18 January 2018

Published January 16, 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

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Ever have one of those weeks where the prompt doesn’t spark a single viable idea? No thesaurus in the world can help. We all have them. Here’s the result of my brain freeze.

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STREAM OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS

To Whom it May Concern,

I cannot write today. My imaginary friends won’t speak to me. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Mine are broken. All the duct tape in the world won’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again. The face in the mirror is blank. No reflection on you, of course. Have I reached 100 words? Nope. Thirty-three and a third to go. That’s an LP you know. They were vinyl CD’s back in the days before stereo was king. And nothing rhymes with orange. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Shalom,

Rochelle

4 January 2019

Published January 2, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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 © Russell Gayer

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Genre: Historical Friction

Word Count: 100

PILLAR OF FAITH

“Hurry, wife. The city’s crumbling around us.” The aged patriarch bent to fasten his sandals, and straightened with a groan. “Oy. I’m too old for this.”

“Do you prefer the blue tunic or the beige?” She held them up. “I think the blue brings out my eyes.”

“Woman! Are you meshuga? An angel warns us of the incoming wrath of God and you’re concerned with clothes?”

“No fashion sense.” She rolled her eyes. “You really believe this judgement mishegoss, don’t you?”

“Don’t you?”

“Angel shmangel.” She shrugged. “Lot, my love. I take everything you say with a grain of salt.”

*For those unfamiliar with Old Testament Bible stories, when God delivered Lot and his family from the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, the angel had instructed them not to look back. Lot’s wife did and turned into a pillar of salt.

***

ANNOUNCING:

My Coffee Table book A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY is now available on Amazon KINDLE, Paperback or Hardcover. Hardcover is also available at Barnes & Noble.com

I’m not crazy about the formatting job they did on the Kindle, but it’s all there. 😉 I’ve yet to see the paperback version so I reserve opinion. Nor do I understand why the paperback and hardcover are the same price.

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NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM?

Published December 30, 2018 by rochellewisoff

After being MIA from Pegman for a while, the muse struck. 😉 Now that the dust is settling a bit from the holidays. In any event, the Google trail took to an irresistible place in Zimbabwe History. The year is 1894 and Zimbabwe was known as Rhodesia. The following year a small band of Jewish refugees would build a synagogue in Harare.

As always, thank yous to Karen and Josh for hosting. Follow the link below to read other stories or to add your own. Remember reciprocation is half the fun.

Harare Synagogue

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM?

“An adventure he says,” whispered Fayga to her three-month-old Yankel. “Your papa is a meshuggeneh vants.”

She missed the synagogue in Lithuania, with its beautiful woodwork and intricate carvings on the Holy Ark.

More than anything, she missed her family. But, if she were back at home she would still miss them. Murdered. What difference did it make from where she mourned?

Yankel sneezed and squirmed on her lap. She waved a fly away from his nose. “Such a shayna punim.”

The tent juddered. A warm breeze wafted over her as the cantor sang, “Here oh Israel, Adonoi our God, Adoni is one.”

“Don’t you see? We’re no longer safe here, my beloved?” He packed his books into a trunk next to her Sabbath candlesticks. “The Messiah will find us no matter where we go.”

Who knew their journey would take them from Eastern Europe to Bulawayo in faraway Africa?

*meshuggeneh vantz – crazy bedbug

*shayna punim – pretty face (It was one of my mother’s nicknames for me 🙂 )

28 December 2018

Published December 26, 2018 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.

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie

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For those who celebrate, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. Another rerun this week. For those who have written for this prompt (and you know who you are) feel free to post a repeat as well. This is my story from July 12, 2013 . Time flies, doesn’t it? Thanks to all who have hung with me for the past 6 years. I’d list them, but I’d be sure to leave someone out. Hard to believe this is the last Friday Fictioneers post for 2018! A HAPPY HEALTHY NEW YEAR TO ALL! Shalom, Rochelle

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BRIGHT BLESSED DAY, DARK SACRED NIGHT

Life in 1907 New Orleans made Rebecca Karnofsy question the “land of the free”. As in Russia, they were still persecuted. Scapegoats.

After circling her hands around the candles, she recited the Sabbath prayer, ending with, “Omayn and Gut Shabbos.”

“Gut Shabbos.” Louis’ smile eclipsed his midnight-brown face.

“A fine boy.” Bernie patted his head. “Already he’s repaid my loan.”

One of the Karnofsky boys sniffed. “He just bought a dumb old horn.”

Eyes wider than wide, Louis jumped up from his chair. “Someday dis whole wonderful world gon’ hear my trumpet an’ know my name is Louis Daniel Armstrong!”

Young Louis Armstrong with his mother and sister.

Amen.

****

ANNOUNCING:

My Coffee Table book A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY is now available on Amazon KINDLE or Paperback. Hardcover is available at Barnes & Noble.com

The print version is also available on Amazon.co.uk. Amazon Australia and India have the Kindle version only. I’m not crazy about the formatting job they did on the Kindle, but it’s all there. 😉

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21 December 2018

Published December 19, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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Please be considerate of 70 or more participants and keep your story to 100 words. Thank you.

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.

Copyright – Adam Ickes

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Another week of reruns. This is a story I posted 5 years ago 13 December 2013 Click the link to see who was with us then. A few of you may have written a story for this prompt. If so, feel free to post your own rerun.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

UNEXPECTED GIFT, UNEXPECTED TIME

Charli’s hiking boots are caked with dried mud that defies my cleaning efforts.

From her first cry, I dreamed of dressing my firstborn in pink pinafores with ruffled lace. But, before she turned two, Charli made it clear she detested pink.

Since then, I’ve given birth to another tomboy and a son who happens to love pink. Go figure.

After the accident on her thirteenth birthday, the boots were the only part of Charli I didn’t sell, toss or donate.

I listen for the doorbell. In a moment I’ll meet the girl to whom I gave my daughter’s untamed heart.

14 December 2018

Published December 12, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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.

Copyright –Douglas M. MacIlroy

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The holiday season is upon us and I find myself to be busier than a one-armed paper hanger. Between the mandatory gifting, my husband’s birthday the 15th, book signings/art shows, and working on a new novel that’s taking up quite a bit of head-space, I’ve taken the liberty to craft this dreadful run-on sentence and also to post some reruns this month. The photo and story are from December 14, 2012 Some may remember it. For those of you who wrote a story for this prompt, feel free to post a rerun. The photographer of this prompt has been MIA for a while, but I assure you, our disc flinger is alive, well, and happy.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

UNHOLY BONDS

Somewhere between “I do” and diapers Gavin’s winsome bride turned into a nattering, self-centered shrew. Everything he said or did she took as either an affront or lack of caring.

If he brought her flowers she accused him of seeing another woman. If he made overtures she accused him of treating her like a sex object.

Eventually he gave up trying to fix their relationship and escaped to his garage sanctuary.

One afternoon Lois stood over him, packed suitcase and their three-year-old son in tow. “I’m leaving.”

“Pick up a quart of milk.”

“For good.”

He smiled. Peace at last!

7 December 2018

Published December 5, 2018 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.

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

JOURNEY TO THE FRONT OF THE ROOM

“Tell me ‘bout when you was a boy, Daddy.”

Henry hugged little Hattie, the baby of his thirteen children. “Last time I got sold I mighta been nine, maybe ten.”

“Play your banjo, Daddy.” Her huge eyes shone. “Please.”

“Only if’n you sings along.”

***

After performing in carnivals and minstrel shows, Hattie McDaniel set her sights on Hollywood.

In the 1940’s and 50’s the NAACP criticized the Oscar winning actress for her servile screen roles. She defied her accusers saying, “Until you offer a better alternative, I’d rather portray a maid for $700 a week than be one for seven.”

30 November 2018

Published November 28, 2018 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.

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

HEARTLESS

Buddy woke up one morning, struggling to breathe. He sat up, but the intense pain in his stomach doubled him over. “Must be something I ate.”

After two weeks in the hospital, he shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks, Doc. For a while I feared I was going to that yellow brick road in the sky.”

The doctor handed him a prescription. “Take it easy—no more aluminum makeup.”

“No problem—lost my job.”

Later Buddy Ebsen called Ray Bolger. “Hey, you old scarecrow. I should never have traded roles with you. Tell Mr. Haley to keep his oil can handy.”

*

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23 November 2018

Published November 21, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Fun times with Russell Gayer at Ozarks Writers League Conference. November 17, 2018 (Not the prompt 😉 )

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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.

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Genre: Historical Fiction based on an actual survivor’s account.

Word Count: 100

PERSPECTIVES

Holding her granddaughter’s hand, Marta shut her eyes. “Doesn’t the water make a beautiful sound?”

Barely six, Segol fidgeted beside her. “It’s just water, Savta.”

“No. It sings the song of eternity.” Opening her eyes, Marta pointed to Segol’s new dress. “Your ema tells me you couldn’t decide between this blue one or the green one. She said you cried and cried.”

Segol hung her head and muttered. “Yes.”

“Such a choice. When I was six, I had to make a choice, too. Should I go with my mother to Auschwitz or flee to the convent? I cried and cried.”

***

Happy Thanksgiving this week to my American friends. I thought of reposting this story I shared 3 years ago. It’s a different perspective re Thanksgiving. The story is called “Keshagesh” which is a Cree word for “Greedy Guts.” Since many of you read and commented on it then, I’m just posting the link for the curious. https://rochellewisoff.com/2015/11/25/27-november-2015/