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.
“Sunrise, Sunset…” Will sang as he combed his thinning white hair, grinning at his reflection. “One season following…”
A sudden wave of exhaustion and chest pain whelmed him. Breathless, he sank into a chair, closing his eyes.
“Willie, you’ll be late for Hebrew school.”
“Let me rest a moment, Mama.” He opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. “Oy! I will be late for the show.” He kissed her faded photograph. “See you soon.”
Later costar Carol Spinney, wearing his Big Bird feet, wrapped his arm around Will. “I love you, Mr. Looper.”
Today Pegman ventures to the Balkans to spend some time in Bulgaria. Feel free to use the prompt to inspire you in any way you see fit, be it historical fiction, poetry, a personal narrative, fantasy or whatever you like. The only requirement is to keep your post to 150 words or less as a gesture of respect for your readers.
Today, thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson, I’ve learned another bit of WWII Jewish history I didn’t know.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 150
RIGHTEOUS AMONG NATIONS
My grandmother and I strolled beside the spring, arm in arm. We’d had a picnic, just the two of us, to celebrate her 80th birthday and my 13th.
“I wish my Papa could’ve been here to enjoy your Bar Mitzvah. He was a rabbi, you know.”
“I know, Nana.”
“So I’ve told you.”
With her intense dark eyes she could take you captive until she decided to let you go. I didn’t mind.
Tears trickled down her weathered cheeks. “They closed the Jewish schools. We wore yellow stars. March 9, 1943, my 13thth birthday. They rounded us up like cattle. We waited to be deported. It was inevitable. I would never see my beloved papa again. He held me and wept like a child. Then the miracle happened—”
“At the last minute Dimitar Peshev, the Vice President of the Bulgarian Parliament, got the order reversed.”
“So I’ve told you.”
From Wikipedia, After the war, the Communists brought forth charges on the Old Bulgarian Parliament for collaboration with the Germans. Peshev was tried for being both an anti-Semite and anti-Communist and was even accused of having been bribed by the Jews in exchange for halting the deportation.[2] However, his Jewish friends from the Kyustendil delegation, led by Joseph Nissim Yasharoff, testified on his behalf and saved him from a death sentence. He was sentenced to 15 years of imprisonment but was released after one year.
This week Pegman is on the lush tropical island of Mauritius. WHAT PEGMAN SAW is a growing prompt challenge hosted by the talented writing team of Rawson and Carroll whom I appreciate as time goes by.
Link to this week’s stories here:
As I began my research trail on the Island of Mauritius, I was led far afield by a documentary on the History channel. 😉 Blame it on my husband who turned it on. The photo I chose is from Mauritius, but that’s as close as I came.
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 150
UNRESOLVED
“Look, Vovô. I bring a present for you,” Marina held up a glistening seashell.
Clarence hoisted his great-granddaughter onto his lap, took the shell from her and kissed the top of her head. “Belíssimo, like you, my little mermaid.”
“Tell me a story, Vovô. About when you and Tio John stole away from the island on the big rock.”
“1962.” He gazed at the sea and squinted at the setting sun, a brilliant ball against the amber sky, reflecting off the waves. “A whole lifetime ago.”
“Two lifetimes. Nearly fifty years.” Clarence’s brother John sank into a beach chair beside them. “Wonder if they still remember us. Wish we’d had a chance to say goodbye.”
“I shore do miss Mama’s fried chicken, ain’t nothin’ in Brazil holds a candle to it.” Clarence could still hear the prison bars clank behind him. He pressed his cheek against Marina’s. “Inescapable Alcatraz. Ha!”
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.
“Raaaawk! Perry pecked a pack of pimpled pipers.” The bird flapped his feathers and strutted across his perch. “Perry’s pimpled pipers ate pickled peaches. Raaaawk!”
Connie swept bird poo beneath his post, dumped it in the trash, and shook her head. “It’s Peter Piper, you silly goose.”
“Hoooonk! I’m a goose!”
“No, you’re a Mynah bird.”
“Raaaaawk! Mynah place or yours, sexy thing?”
“Don’t! Stop it, you dumb bird.”
“Don’t! Stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”
Outside, her husband’s truck juddered into the driveway. She met him at the door. “Russell Gayer, why can’t we have a dog like normal people?”
This week Pegman returns to the Western Hemisphere to take us on a tour of Littleton, West Virginia. Although I missed the challenge last week, a story formed pretty quickly for this one. I’m a day late and see that this group is growing. Nice to see. Thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting. I so appreciate the two of you on more than one level. 😉
To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 150
This story is dedicated to the forgotten veterans, the women who unassumingly served as nurses and ‘Donut Dollies.’
COUNTRY ROADS
“My dearest Jimmy,
Remember 1971? We came home from Vietnam that year—the same year John Denver’s song became a hit. I think he must’ve written it with you in mind.
‘Littleton,’ you laughed, your eyes shining like the stars over the Shenandoah River. ‘It’s just a Podunk town in the middle of nowhere.’
Nonetheless, to you it was home…’almost heaven’.”
Sharon set aside her pen and paper. Picking up Jimmy’s guitar, she strummed the melody and sang, “…West Virginia, Blue Ridge Mountain…” She closed her eyes. “Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains…”
A gentle breeze riffled her hair. “You promised to bring me here after the war. And so you have.”
She folded the note, tucked it inside the guitar and propped it against his headstone. Forever she would carry his face and hear his last words, “Nurse, please don’t let me die.”
*
*
*
In this image provided by the U.S. Army, the 2nd Brigade was faced with a new problem at their Bien Hoa, Vietnam base: from Fort Rilay to Vietnam come the 93rd Evacuation Hospital complete with nurses on Dec. 19, 1965. The problem of getting a private shower for the girls fell to Company B 1st Engineer Battalion. In the interests of the health, welfare and cleanliness of the nurses, the men of Company B decided to give up their own air-conditioned shower. The dressing area of the shower was boarded up and the entrance-way closed off. An appropriate “Off Limits” sign was made and posted. (AP Photo/U.S. Army)
Waves lapped against the boat’s hull. Moonlight made the water sparkle. Thoughts and ideas flipped inside the author’s head like Spanish dancers.
She opened her laptop and, for a moment, stared at the blank screen. With relish, she typed sentence upon sentence, her excitement mounting. Her fingers seemed to take on a mind of their own, tapping across the keyboard.
She grinned. “Too good to stop here.”
Before she knew it, 100 words grew to 200. Not one of them could be spared.
A gossamer-winged faerie settled on the writer’s shoulder and whispered, “Way too good to meet the challenge, eh?”
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.
This lovely photo shows the moon rising over the trees as viewed from a ferry boat. What story does it tell you? Can you share it in 100 words or less?
“The year I turned 10,” he lay back in his hospital bed, staring at his bandaged hand, “my uncle invited me to the movie set. I’ll never forget it. There he was. The King. At that moment I knew what I wanted to be.”
“A rock star with a nasty temper?” The nurse adjusted his IV. “The morphine should kick in soon.”
His fingers throbbed. “The doc says I broke five bones and I might never play guitar again.”
The nurse’s eyes brimmed. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Petty.”
“Don’t be.” He murmured as he drifted off. “I won’t back down.”
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.
Because the time to work on the content to go with the artwork, I’m using Friday Fictioneers as a proving ground. My plan is take excerpts from the book continue to distill them into standalone flashes. This doesn’t mean all my stories will be book related, it just means that you might be seeing more of them.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
SACRED PROMISE
Although he had closed his shop for the day, Gavrel could not go back on his word to finish Reuven’s new shoes. He buffed them until they glowed in the lamplight.
Gavrel pulled off his young brother-in-law’s tattered shoes. “Just in time, my little apple. You’re growing so fast I’d better start your next pair tomorrow.”
A frown darkened Reuven’s ruddy face. “Papa, Lev says someday you’ll have a son of your own and won’t want me anymore.”
Heart racing, Gavrel crushed the boy against his chest. “If I have ten more sons, not one will ever take your place.
There’s an abundance of both street view and photo spheres in this beautiful city. Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you like for your post.
Your job is to write a 150-word (or less) story about this week’s chosen location. Where will you take your readers? You’re invited to join the talented writers of Pegman this week in St. Petersburg, Russia.
To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:
For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.
As you may already know, I’m currently working on getting my fourth book A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY ready for publication. It will be a collection of illustrations and excerpts depicting characters and scenes from my novel trilogy. These excerpts seem to lend themselves to 100-150 word flashes. This week’s location was the perfect opportunity. Thank you for your indulgence and your help. 😉
St. Petersburg Philharmonic
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 149
ELEGY
With the unpleasant task of delivering bad news to a dear friend and former patient behind him, Dr. Nikolai Derevenko settled back for the evening. In an attempt to cheer himself, he picked up his flute from the table, brought it to his lips and played a Bach sonata. Usually the music would lift his spirits, but tonight it only intensified his loneliness as he reflected on his life, beginning with the day he informed his father he had chosen to go to medical school.
Sergei Derevenko, a prominent violinist in the St. Petersburg Philharmonic, eyed Nikolai with a mixture of anger and hurt.
“You’d rather slice people open and wallow in their blood and bile than delight thousands of patrons with your talent? I don’t understand you, Kolyah.”
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 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. 
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 