11 May 2018

Published May 9, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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 ©Jill Wisoff

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

The story you are about to read is true. No names have been changed to protect the guilty.

FAMILY TIES

“Wise-off?”

“No. ‘Wiss-off.’ It’s a short ‘i’.”

Very few can pronounce it correctly on the first try. We were the only Wisoffs in Kansas City—probably the world. Talk about feeling like the odd one out.

“Your great-grandparents who came over from Lithuania with 7 children shortened Wissosky,” said Dad. “There are plenty more little Wisoffs running around back east.”

In 1999 thanks to AOL, I met Jill Wisoff who lives in New York City.

Say what you will about the evils of social media, but thanks to my unique surname, I don’t need DNA to find relatives on Facebook.

Click to hear and see a recent reading I did. Sight, sound and four flash fictions.

HOMEWORK

Published January 20, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Haiti’s neighbor, the Dominican Republic, in the central Caribbean. Feel free to use the crazy capture I posted, or find your own photo sphere anywhere within the country’s borders.

Your assignment is to produce 150 words (or less) inspired by this week’s location. Will it be fiction? Essay? Poetry? The only limit is your imagination. After you’ve polished your piece, you can share it with other participants at the link up:

I’m back after being MIA last week and probably will be a few more times. However, when I saw Dominican Republic in my inbox I was hooked.

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 150

HOMEWORK

There’s a special place in my heart for the Dominican Republic. However, not in the way one might think. I’ve never played on the sandy beaches of Santo Domingo nor lounged under its palm trees beside the Caribbean Sea.

From 1964-65 I was in 6^th grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Humo, assigned each student a country to study for the entire school year. This included keeping track of current events.

Those lucky ducks given Laos and Vietnam, as you might imagine, had much to report and clipped tons of newspaper articles. Not so for the hapless girl assigned the República Dominicana.

I diligently studied, drew detailed maps and combed the Kansas City Star for any news of my tiny tropical island. Nada.

The following spring, after I’d moved on to the trials of junior high, revolution broke out. The Dominican Republic headlined the news. What? They couldn’t have revolted last year?

30 June 2017

Published June 28, 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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

“I AM STILL ZVI.”

He smiled from his front seat on the bus. Zvi obviously enjoyed his job—introducing a group of dusty pilgrims to Eretz Yisra’el.

“The field on the left is 100% cotton. On the right—50% polyester.”

Looking beyond his twinkling eyes, one could see the depth of his faith and commitment to his ancient homeland. I only imagined what he experienced as an IDF soldier in 1967 for he avoided speaking of it.

Eleven years later I still hear his voice and his daily greeting.

“Today in Israel there is no rain, there is no snow. Don’t worry. Be happy.”

Zvi with his daughter Sarah, also a tour guide.

Shalom!

“Move, you dumb ass!” “Yes, dear.” With Cuzzin Kent.

Greetings from HaAretz – The Land

At the Wall

PRICELESS

Published June 19, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman takes us to the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.

Feel free to stroll around the area 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.

Thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for heading up this challenge, one that I can’t seem to avoid. 😉 I’m not even caught up on my Friday Fictioneers reading, commenting and replying.

The Gold Souk in Dubai

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 150

PRICELESS

“Cash for your old gold,” boasted a reputable local jeweler.

He set up a table at the front of the grocery store where I worked as a cake designer. There he made his offer to employees and customers alike.

“Wish I had something to trade in, I could use the money,” said Maggie, my coworker. “You got anything?”

My husband is something of a jewelry junkie and bought some stunning gold pieces while stationed in Dubai during the Gulf War. Nothing I care to part with. My favorite is a simple heart ring, the symbol of storms we’ve weathered in our marriage.

“Nah, but I wonder what this is actually worth.”

Maggie took it and left the bakery. When she returned she tossed it on the counter. “It’s fake.”

Isn’t it sad that a “trained professional” didn’t recognize 24 carat gold?

Like my daddy used to say, “It’s always something.”

*

It’s rarely left my right index finger since December 1999. 24 carat gold is soft and easily bent. BUT it’s never turned my finger green.

SCHUHLEDER

Published March 4, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman walks through a St. Louis neighborhood.

Feel free to stroll around the area 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.

Since I chose the destination this week, I had no choice but to write a story. Right? Of course, right!

Even at 150 words…50 over my normal flashes, I found myself wishing for more. 😉 Below is my choice of prompt. It brought back some wonderful childhood memories.

Genre: Mostly Memoir-Some Fiction

Word Count: 150

SCHUHLEDER

Compared to our ranch-style house in Kansas City, George Weinberg’s two-story in St. Louis seemed a veritable palace. I looked forward to sojourns with our cousins in the early 1960’s.

Although George’s wife Carla, a German refugee, was generous and an impeccable housekeeper, her cooking left something to be desired—taste. We didn’t dare complain. Carla had survived unbelievable hardship and she meant well, but how can a person ruin hamburgers?

The summer I turned fifteen, Mom had dental surgery. Granting her request to be left alone, Dad took me to our favorite getaway for an overnight.

It was dark when he woke me. “There’s a great diner around the corner.”

Alas, Carla stood at the foot of the stairs, platter in hand. “Guten morgen!”

“Pancakes?” Dad’s stomach let out an audible whimper. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Nonsense. I should let my guests leave hungry?”

What’s the German word for ‘cowhide?’

VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS

Published January 14, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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 wish I could call my story for this week Flash Fiction. It’s 150 words of what I’m feeling this morning.

VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS

Three young people lie on steel morgue tables while a toddler fights for his brief life.

There’s nothing new under the sun, is there? Newscast after newscast has broadcast similar incidents as I’ve tossed back a glass of wine, shook my head and said, “How awful.”

That changed when I saw the Facebook post that said, “Last night I lost the love of my life.” A couple’s obvious devotion shone from their photos.

My heart plummeted. “That’s my friend, my coworker.”

“Daddy loves you,” said his next post.

Under his words was the picture of a happy father with a smiling boy riding piggyback on his shoulders.

No words in the unabridged dictionary can express the depths of despair, rage and helplessness that drill my soul.

I want to embrace him and say something meaningful to ease his pain, but all I can do is spout clichés through my tears.

12 February 2016

Published February 10, 2016 by rochellewisoff

NEWS FLASH!!!

Last week we had another short story winner. Margaret Leggatt in Australia.

To read her award winning story click

HERE

CONGRATULATIONS, MARGARET!

****

The following photo is the PROMPT. Keep in mind that all photos are the property of the contributor, therefore copyrighted and require express permission to use for purposes other than Friday Fictioneers. Giving credit to whom credit is due is proper etiquette.

Please be considerate and make an effort to stay within the suggested word count.

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

WHEN THE SUN CONCEIVED A WOMAN

I tasted dusty tile floor. Aware of prying stares, lying in my own filth, I wished I could dissolve between the cracks of the thrift shop floor.

A paramedic struggled to insert an IV into my collapsed vein. “What year is it?”

“1996.”

“Do you know your name?”

My doctor’s words haunted me.

“You’re going to end up dead on the bathroom floor like Karen Carpenter and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Was this the legacy I wanted to leave my children?

Infused with renewed will to conquer the beast, I answered the EMT. “My name is Rochelle.”

****

*Footnote-This was a major wake-up call and the first day of my decision to live. The following sketch is part of a series I did to go along with an inner child story I wrote while in treatment, entitled The Magic Daffodils.