13 January 2017

Published January 11, 2017 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 © C.E. Ayr

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE HEAVIEST WHEEL ROLLS ACROSS OUR FOREHEADS

When I was a little girl in the 1950’s, Mom used to take me to visit my aunt in St. Louis. I looked forward to those train rides. Sunlight dazzled through the trees as they whizzed by and the rhythm of the wheels clicking along the track soothed me.

Dad, on the other hand, hated trains, but would never tell me why. Only once did he accompany us.

As we left Union Station, tears trickled from the corners of his faraway eyes.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“The stench was unbearable. Fifty of us crammed into a cattle car. I alone escaped.”

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NOBLESSE OBLIGE

Published January 8, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This is my fourth week taking the challenge. Perhaps it’s the lure of 50 extra words or the fun of choosing from a smorgasbord of photos. In any event, I’m back for more. Many thanks the Karen Rawson for hosting. Below are the instructions to join in:

Google Street View of Burhhanpur

Feel free to stroll around using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

I must confess that I’ve taken a former Friday Fictioneers flash fiction and tweaked it. Originally it was called ROYAL CONCESSION. It was fun to have the luxury of expanding it and changing it up a bit.

Word Count: 150

Genre: Realistic Fiction

NOBLESSE OBLIGE

Ellen grabbed the remote, turned off the television and climbed onto Jeff’s lap. “Tell me a story, Daddy.”

After countless life-or-death decisions and run-ins with EMT coworkers, his back and shoulders throbbed. The last fatality was Ellen’s age, a boy who breathed his last in Jeff’s arms.

He took back the remote. “Later, Doodle-bug.”

With five-year-old persistence, Ellen settled against his chest. “Once upon a time, in a castle in faraway India, lived a maharaja and his bee-yoo-tee-ful little princess. Your turn, Daddy.”

Her dark eyes held him prisoner. The remote slipped from his fingers. “Okay. The castle was called Shahi Qila. They rode jeweled elephants and swam in the Tapti River. Your turn, Doodles. What happened next?”

“They…” her voice faded into a yawn and her eyelids drooped.

Jeff’s taut muscles eased. He stroked her silken curls, kissed the top of her head and whispered, “…lived happily ever after.”

6 January 2017

Published January 4, 2017 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 © Sandra Crook

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Genre: I’ll take Historical Fiction for 100, Alex

WORDS OF LOVE

Hemda mourned when her sister succumbed to consumption, but how could she honor Devorah’s final wish to go to Jerusalem to marry her grieving widower, Eliezer the heretic?

“Israel,” he insisted, “must have one language.”

The rabbis seethed. “One uses the holy tongue for prayer—not idle chitchat.”

Nonetheless, Hemda dedicated herself to her husband as, side-by-side, they activated the wheels of change. Together they developed a modern Hebrew dictionary.

Her heart swelled when 30,000 attending his funeral proclaimed him a national hero.

British historian Cecil Roth later wrote: “Before Eliezer Ben-Yehuda Jews could speak Hebrew; after him they did.”

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APOLOGIES TO ROBERT BURNS

Published January 1, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Feel free to stroll around using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Great fun and a few more words for this Friday Fictioneers Facilitator. 😉

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to everyone who participated in last week’s prompt. If you’d like to suggest a location to Pegman, visit the contact page.

***

Here’s the photo that struck my fancy.

Here’s my bit ‘o’ fluff for the week. Happy New Year!

Genre: Questionable

Word Count: 150

APOLOGIES TO ROBERT BURNS

From the moment we met my heart belonged to him. His voice was like wind song and his words like tinkling bells on a sleigh.

He told me he was born 3 kilometers south of Ayr in Alloway in the year 1759.

But how could this be? This is New Year’s Eve, 2017.

Nonetheless when he recited poetry time had no meaning.

“As fair are thou, my bonie lass

So deep in luve am I,

And I will luve thee still, my Dear,

Till a’the seas gang dry.”

Lost in the depth of his blue eyes, I sipped my fourth Scotch. “I’ll stay with you always, my love.”

“Impossible, m’lady.” His cheeks flushed from pink to crimson. He dried my tears with the tip of his trunk and whispered in my ear. “Dinna fash yerself, lassie. We’ll tak a cup ‘o kindness now, but an elephant can’t stay forever.”

TO SLEEP PERCHANCE TO DREAM

Published December 26, 2016 by rochellewisoff

This is my offering for What Pegman Saw

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page. It’s simple: a story of 150 words or less inspired by your street view tour of the location.

This week’s location was suggested by gifted writer and photographer Graham over at grahamisjustmyname.com. Thanks Graham!

Join in and add your link!

This is the view I chose from the Google site.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 147

TO SLEEP PERCHANCE TO DREAM

Eva couldn’t wait for bedtime. Her faithful dream came every night. All day she longed for the sheer pleasure of flying amongst the cotton-soft clouds. The sky would always be a mixture of azure and cerulean. Lively music filled her ears as she flipped in midair.

This particular night she hovered above a waterfall. The thundering waters cavorted and flowed over shimmering quartz stones. A mermaid with a gleaming green tail sat on one of them in the midst of the waves. Her eyes glowed like candles. Sea spray veiled her shining violet hair that cascaded over her shoulders like a silken cape.

Holding out her arms, her melodious voice beckoned. “Eva, sweet Eva, come swim with me.”

***

“Eva, get up!”

Shira shook her sister’s narrow shoulders. Grey light through the barrack’s filthy window illuminated Eva’s skeletal face and serene smile.

Weeping, Shira whispered, “Arbeit macht frei.”

23 December 2016

Published December 21, 2016 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 © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

LOVE LIKE YOURS

Like white feathers, snow drifted past the window and blurred before my eyes. I dropped a coin in the jukebox on the table and selected our song. The one he wrote.

I swirled a curly fry through a mound of ketchup then let it fall from my fingers. “I can’t believe he’s gone. Just like that.”

Bill’s cheeks glistened. “He’d want us all to move on.”

“It won’t be the same.” I blew my nose in my napkin. “There’ll never be another.”

Joy eclipsed my grief when Bill slipped a diamond on my finger. “Will you marry me, Peggy Sue?”

*

Singer Don McClean called it The Day the Music Died and some historians refer to it as Rock’s First Tragedy. On February 3, 1959 the “Winter Dance Party” tour was cut short when the plane carrying Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Richie Valens crashed near Clear Lake, Iowa.

*

POSTAGE DUE

Published December 18, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Bonaparte, IA Post Office

What Pegman Saw is a new Flash Fiction challenge utilizing Google Maps by K Rawson. The assignment is to write a story –150 words or less– based upon the location provided. Use the photo or follow the Google Maps link and take your own street view tour.

Here is this week’s location.

I’m stepping out of my Friday Fictioneers comfort zone this week. Having more than 100 words to play with was actually something of a luxury.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 149

POSTAGE DUE

“Didja check the return address?” asked Milly.

Charlie, the postmaster, pushed back his cap and scratched his head. “Ain’t got one. Jest addressed to you and James.” He unfolded a rumpled note. “It says, ‘December 20, 1914. Keep it warm and dry. Merry Christmas.’ It’s postmarked Pleasantville, Iowa. You know anyone there?”

“We went through there last January.” The vision of a young couple popped into her mind. “Grace and Elliott Tucker. She couldn’t’a been more’n fifteen. They put us up for a few days when one of our horses went lame. Nice folks. I hope they’re well.”

“Afraid Mr. Tucker done got his-self killed. Struck by lightning.” Charlie handed her an obituary included with the note. “You gonna accept the package?”

Milly lifted the month old infant from the mailing pouch, breathed in his sweetness and kissed his round cheek. “In time for Christmas dinner. Welcome home, Noel.”

16 December 2016

Published December 14, 2016 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: Realistic Fiction with a side of History

Word Count: 100

CONTRA-BUN

Mary watched the snow blanket the ground and opened her book. “Good reading weather.”

“Whatcha reading?” Laura pointed over Mary’s shoulder at a picture of a spider on an intricate web. “Neat drawing.”

“Charlotte’s Web.” Mary showed her the cover. “‘Pictures by Garth Williams.’”

“Controversial artist,” said Charlie, their older brother, stretching out on the sofa. “The White Citizens Council in Alabama had his book The Rabbits’ Wedding banned from their library in 1958.”

“Yeah, right.” Mary frowned. “For what? Excessive cuteness?”

“Interracial marriage.” Charlie’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “One bunny was white and the other was black.”

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Although I was unaware of this controversial book growing up, I loved Garth Williams’ illustrations in the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. His work had a huge influence on my own work.

9 December 2016

Published December 7, 2016 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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The following is a tweaked scene from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 99

MOMENT OF MOMENTS

Like an impetuous child, Havah hopped from foot to foot. New York City’s imposing skyline appeared to be painted against gray clouds.

What kind of life would they have in this unfamiliar place? She wound and unwound the fringes of her shawl around her index finger. Would Americans understand her English?

Yussel grasped her arm. “Is she there?”

“Yes, Papa. Like a queen with flowing robes and a crown, she’s standing in the harbor holding her torch high in the air for the entire world to see.

His sightless eyes brimmed and he smiled serenely. “Yes, I see her.”

*

YUSSEL GITTERMAN -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The final edits are complete! The third book in the Havah Cohen Gitterman trilogy is out!

CLICK HERE

2 December 2016

Published November 30, 2016 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.

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE ELEVENTH COMMANDMENT

In preparation for his bar mitzvah, twelve-year-old Harvey Weinstein opened the book to his parashah. His stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry.”

“Sh’mot beginning with Chapter 16,” said Rabbi Shmuel. “First in English, then Hebrew.”

Harvey fumed. “I’m tired of Torah. I’d rather play Xbox.”

“This is the perfect reading for you.” The rabbi winked and pointed to the page. “The children of Israel kvetched day and night in the wilderness. ‘Oy, Moses, we’re wet. We’re cold. We’re starving to death.’ Nu? Is there something we can we learn from them?”

“Yeah.” Folding his arms across his chest, Harvey smirked. “Jews don’t camp.”

What can I say?