25 November 2016

Published November 23, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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

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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.

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

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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 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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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.

To learn about this courageous woman more click here.

November’s Guest Storyteller, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published November 5, 2016 by rochellewisoff

I’m honored to be Sarah Potter’s guest storyteller this month. My story is more than 100 words and one of my favorites. 😉

Sarah Potter Writes

Kansas City native Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is a woman of Jewish descent and the granddaughter of Eastern European immigrants. She has a close personal connection to Jewish history, which has been a recurring theme throughout much of her writing. Growing up, she was heavily influenced by the Sholom Aleichem stories, the basis for Fiddler on the Roof. Her novels Please Say Kaddish for Me, From Silt and Ashes and As One Must, One Can were born of her desire to share the darker side of these beloved tales—the history that can be difficult to view, much less embrace.

She is also the author and illustrator of This, That and Sometimes the Other, an eclectic anthology of short stories.

Before becoming an author, Rochelle attended the Kansas City Art Institute, where she studied painting and lithography. Her preferred media are pen and ink, pencil, and watercolor. Her artwork is featured…

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4 November 2016

Published November 2, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE NIGHT AMERICA TREMBLED

In 1938 my dad sprang for a new RCA Victor 7K1 console.

The radio took a prominent place in our home. President Roosevelt’s voice filled our living room. I loved Charlie McCarthy. My sister adored Bing Crosby.

One night, putting the finishing touches on my Halloween costume, mom turned the dial. “Ramon Raquello and his orchestra.”

I rolled my eyes. “Boring.”

A panicked voice interrupted. “Ladies and gentlemen this is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed…”

We cowered, believing, as many Americans did, invaders from Mars had landed. What a pity they weren’t real and didn’t devour the Reichstag.

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“…it was intended to be the Mercury theater’s own version of dressing up in a sheet and jumping out of a bush and saying, ‘Boo!’ Starting now we couldn’t soap all your windows and steal your garden gates by tomorrow night so we did the next best thing.” Orson Welles, October 30,1938

28 October 2016

Published October 26, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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NOTE ON THE GREAT PROMPT FIASCO: When this went up this morning (02:30 my time) the prompt did not appear. I’ve now fixed the problem and you should be seeing the prompt. For those who wrote in its absence, kudos. For those who are coming in later and can see the prompt, it is NOT OK to choose a different photo.

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

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Four years ago, this week, Madison Woods, the creator of Friday Fictioneers turned her baby over to me. Becoming the FFF – Friday Fictioneers Facilitator is one of the best things I’ve ever done. A rousing THANK YOU to all who faithfully participate.

Shalom,

Rochelle

***

Busy-ness abounds this week. Therefore, I’m cheating. The following story isn’t exactly a story, but the opening paragraphs, as written, of the first chapter of AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. Naturally, I hope this might whet your appetite to read the rest of the book.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BREATH AND SHADOW

Afternoon sun streamed through the tall classroom windows and cast long shadows across the dusty floor. On the chalkboard in rigid script was written, “9 October 1907, Wednesday.” Arithmetic problems in childish scrawls covered another blackboard on the opposite wall.

Behind her desk, the teacher sat with rawboned fingers clasped on top of her attendance book. Her hair was parted down the middle and pulled back from her face into a severe bun.

Under the teacher’s spectacled glare, Havah fidgeted on the hard chair. “What did my Reuven do that was so terrible?”

“He gave another boy a black eye.”

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MISS KLINE Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

REUVEN – Original Artwork ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

HAVAH -Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The proof is in which means more editing. Release date to follow soon.

14 October 2016

Published October 12, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Hysterical Faction

Word count: 100

For a few of us, Wednesday, 12 October 2016, is not only Friday Fictioneers but also Yom Kippur, the highest of Jewish holy days. For that reason, I’ve taken the liberty of rerunning the following story from April 3, 2013. A handful of you might remember the prompt and even have a story you want to repeat.

Click Here to see the original post.

The Ashamnu is a traditional prayer of repentance recited on Yom Kippur, the Jewish highest of holy days or day of atonement. The word “ah-SHAM-nu” means we are guilty or we have sinned.

ASHAMNU

Rhoda cast furtive glances in all directions, inhaled throat-burning smoke, held it, and then exhaled, handing the joint to Marcus.

“Don’t be so paranoid.” His bloodshot eyes glittered.

Candles illuminated the corners of his darkened bedroom. In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida blared from the stereo and patchouli incense tickled her nose.

After they’d downed an entire bag of chips, Marcus plopped his yarmulke on his head.

“So much for fasting. Let’s get back before they miss us.”

Side-by-side they sneaked into the synagogue and giggled through repentance prayers.

Every year afterward, when Rhoda dutifully attended services, she chuckled as she recalled the “High” Holiday.

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Original Artwork from 1971 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

7 October 2016

Published October 5, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BORN ON THE 4^TH OF JULY

“Greetings to all you boneheads in the Pacific, this is your number one enemy, your favorite playmate, Orphan Ann, with some good jive.”

Trembling, Iva put down her script and set the needle on the record. What choice did she have? She had to eat.

Stranded in Tokyo after a short trip to visit her aunt, she refused to renounce her US citizenship. Japanese customs repulsed her. She longed for hamburgers and Coca-Cola in her comfortable California home.

***

Thirty-two years, six of them in prison for treason, later, President Gerald Ford pardoned Iva Toguri D’aquino, also known as Tokyo Rose.

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Click!

23 September 2016

Published September 21, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

PINOCHLE CHARLIE’S DAUGHTER

Rose Borach’s heart sank. “Fania, don’t quit school. You’re too smart to end up like your worthless father.”

“I won’t.” The skinny seventeen-year-old glided across the room with the grace of a ballerina. “My grades stink and I’m still in the eighth grade.” She sang, “Give my regards to Broooaddwaaay!” With an exaggerated curtsy, she kissed Rose’s cheek. “Someday you’re gonna see my name in lights.”

“What name? Borax? Jenny Waters? Muddy Waters?”

***

Two years later in 1910, nineteen-year-old Fania burst through Rose’s door and flashed her newly signed contract. “Look, Ma, I’m in the Ziegfeld Follies. Me! Fanny Brice!”

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For those not familiar with this great lady of the theater, may I introduce on of my childhood heroes.

16 September 2016

Published September 14, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHITHER THOU GOEST

Obed grunted and pushed but could not budge the heavy stone to grind flour.

“You’re too small, son.” Ruth handed him a bundle of sheaves and a mallet. “Here, thresh these for me.”

His eyes shone like starlight reflecting off the sea. Her heart swelled with love for him leaving no room for loneliness.

He pounded the barley kernels. “Tell me about my father.”

Obed’s face bore traces of both Mahlon and Mahlon’s Uncle Boaz, her beloved men, dead and buried. How do I explain Hebrew law regarding husbands and widows to a three-year-old?

“To begin with, you had two.”

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A lovely review from GAH Learner. Thank you, Gabriele!