flash fiction

All posts tagged flash fiction

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.

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Here's the photo that struck my fancy.

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!

froggy

gulfoss-waterfall

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

Friday Fictioneers and Poppy

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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

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?”

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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. 

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holiday-greetings-from-j-r

 

POSTAGE DUE

Published December 18, 2016 by rochellewisoff
Bonaparte, IA Post Office

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.

froggy

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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Thoreau NZ birds

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

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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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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the-rabbits-wedding

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. 

little-house-in-the-big-woods

charlottes-web

9 December 2016

Published December 7, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Phriday Phictioneers Phone

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Cuzzinz and Thoreau

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 PTOMPT © Lucy Fridkin

PHOTO PROMPT © Lucy Fridkin (my friend since kindergarten…wow, that’s a loooong time!)

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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.”

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*

Framed Havah at 16

HAVAH COHEN GITTERMAN – Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

YUSSEL GITTERMAN -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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

aomoc-titled-cover-art

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. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

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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? 

25 November 2016

Published November 23, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Prom Night 1971 Enlargement

(This year, November 28th, marks our 45th wedding anniversary. And our parents didn’t think we’d last 6 months. 😉 )

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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 © CEayr

PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr

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Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 99

FOR LOVE OF DIBROMINDIGO

“What are you wearing to the party tonight?” he asked.

“My purple dress.”

“Could you be more specific? Almost everything in your closet is purple.”

“It’s the color of royalty.” She clicked on Wikipedia. “The ancient Phoenicians prized it as early as 1570 BC. Phoenicia means ‘Land of Purple.’”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course it does.”

“Billions of sea snails have given their lives to produce the dye. According to historians it fetched its weight in silver in Colophon in Asia Minor. The Romans used it for their ceremonial robes.”

“So that means you’re wearing…”

“…my purple dress.”

Dibromindigo is the major component in Tyrian purple.

Dibromindigo is the major component in Tyrian purple.

Charging up for next time!

I couldn’t resist including this.

It’s also my default ringtone. 😉

If you missed my interview on the The Writer’s Block Radio Show, click to listen. 

18 November 2016

Published November 16, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Erie Canal

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Flowers from the Hill ThoreauThe 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 © Björn Rudeberg

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

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Genre: (Recent) Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

CODA

            Unable to lift her head, Jacqueline watched her husband sit at the piano.  “Please, play Brahms for me.”

            As he performed the lilting sonata, she imagined her cello strings against her fingers and felt the weight of the bow. With wide vibrato her now lifeless fingers slid from one note to the next.

            Daniel finished and sank down on a chair beside the bed.  

            A tear trickled from her eye. “Do you remember the night we met?”

            “I tried to accompany you.” He smiled. “It never dawned on you how difficult it was for us mere mortals to follow you.”

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jacqueline-du-pre-and-daniel-barenboim

Jacqueline du Pré and Daniel Barenboim

CLICK to learn more. 😉

When the research thread led me to Jacqueline du Pré I was immediately taken captive. Her talent, presence and tragic story sucked me in. Finding a short clip was next to impossible. The conductor is her husband Daniel Barenboim. I realize that classical music isn’t everyone’s style so there’s no need to feel obligated to watch the video. Shalom, Rochelle

11 November 2016

Published November 9, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Another HighwayThe 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

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 98

I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU

                                                                                                                                       August 1953

Chère Maîtresse,

            Today I hold my firstborn, Lois Marie. Marie is for my mother of blessed memory who perished before I turned nine.    

            Remember how she shoved me into your tender arms at Camp de Rivesaltes? Remember how you kissed away my tears? Why did you leave your comfortable home to spit in the face of death?

            “It is my purpose,” you said.  

            Although I’ve been criticized for naming my Jewish baby after a living gentile, it’s only right to honor the American angel who combed the lice from my hair.

            Je ne t’oublierai jamais, Lois Gunden.

*Note: It is an Ashkenazi Jewish tradition to name a child after someone, usually a family member, who has passed on. To a certain extent it’s believed that the soul of the loved one lives on in the child who bears his or her name. 

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Lois is one of the “righteous gentiles” honored at Yad VaShem, the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem.

lois-gundenTo learn about this courageous woman more click here. 

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