Friday Fictioneers

All posts tagged Friday Fictioneers

2 April 2021

Published March 31, 2021 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 © Jennifer Pendergast  

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

ICING FOR JOY

My decorating supervisor, Mack had an undeniable presence. Although I’ve no photo of him, I have an image in my mind that will never fade. Bushy white moustache and flushed cheeks under a flat cap.

He had been creating gorgeous cakes since I was in diapers. Flowers crafted from extra-stiff icing were his specialty. Roses. Daisies. Pansies. Chrysanthemums.

Eyes twinkling, he called me “Whats-Your-Name.”

A better mentor I couldn’t have asked for—never stingy with his tricks of the trade. I’ll always cherish the greatest compliment he ever gave me. “You can do anything I can, and you know it.”

****

Mack also told me I had a bright future as a cake decorator. I never told him that wasn’t exactly the future I was hoping for. 😉 From him that was huge. He’s gone now. I really wish I’d taken a picture or two of him.

A few of my favorite cakes through the years. 

26 March 2021

Published March 24, 2021 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 © Dale Rogerson

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

BRINGER OF LIGHT

At bedtime Blume Mabovitch brushed 10-year-old Goldie’s thick, dark curls. “How was school today?”

“Fun. Nothing like Kiev. My teacher says I’m klug—smart.”

Gut. Into bed.” Blume tucked the covers around Goldie’s neck. “When the time comes, you’ll be a balabusta, a good American wife.”

Goldie watched snowflakes flutter past her window, glittering in the streetlight. She shivered and whispered to herself. “Balabustah? Feh! Someday I shall do great things for our Jewish people.”

***

Goldie’s fire and determination guided her long productive life. As Golda Meir she earned Israel’s love as a champion who helped turn dreams into reality.

*In 1956 when Golda Myerson became Foreign Minister, Prime Minister Ben Gurion urged her to Hebraicize her name. Meir means bringer of light. 

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And just because…

19 March 2021

Published March 17, 2021 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 © Liz Young

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Genre: Humour

Word Count: 100

NOT BY BREAD ALONE

Dale shielded her eyes. “Let’s sit here under this magnificent shade tree.”  

As Russell sank down in the grass, Liza-Jane snatched his sandwich. “Hey!” He scowled the dog.

“I brought an extra, just in case.” Rochelle handed it to him. “Hope you don’t mind peanut butter on wholegrain, gluten-free bread.”

Liza-Jane sniffed at it and whimpered. Russell grimaced. “Thanks.”

Rochelle bit into her sandwich. “Mmm. Peanut Butter. George Washington Carver’s greatest gift to mankind.

“For your information, Ms. History-Buff.” Dale munched on her PB&J on a croissant. “Peanut butter was first patented by Canadian pharmacist Marcellus Gilmore Edson in 1884.

***

Click here for Information that won’t stick to the roof of your mouth. 

 

12 March 2021

Published March 10, 2021 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.

A note of thanks to those who sent photos. The response to my plea was overwhelming! I’m always open to quirky or intriguing shots. Send them to runtshell@gmail.com. 😉 

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Click the frog to join the party. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE GREATEST GENERATION

Great-Grandpa Harry’s war stories made wonderful essays for my seventh-grade history class.  

“I never seen anything like it.” His faded blue eyes brimmed. “Charles Jackson French. The ‘human tugboat’. Ever hear of him?”  

“No, Grandpa.”   

“A-course not. So Imma gonna tell you.”

I poised my pencil.

 “After the Japs sank our ship, a few of us wounded escaped on a big’ol life raft. Charlie tied the tow rope around hisself. Eight hours o’dodging sharks and bullets, he swam us to safety. Never received the full honors due him.”

“Why?”

Great-Grandpa fisted his gnarled hand.

“Worst reason ever, son. Skin color.”

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5 March 2021

Published March 3, 2021 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

Genre: Histrionic Friction

Word Count: 100

UN-A-MUSED

A blank computer screen mocks me. I type, “It was a dark and stormy night.” I backspace over it. Frustration reigns supreme. “He was a stormy, dark knight.”

Screw it.

Backspace.

My mind’s as gray as the sky outside. Whoever heard of a sky inside?

Oy.

Maybe it’s all the binge watching on Netflix that has my empty mind swimming in circles.

That’s it! I’ll write about swimming. “Sloshing, stroking, flipping. Blissfully skimming.”

Backspace.

How many odes have I written to my inner mermaid?

“Dear Muse, where are you?”

The words flash across the monitor.

“Moved. Left no forwarding address.”

26 February 2021

Published February 24, 2021 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.

CALLING MY CAMERA HAPPY FICTIONEERS!!!

PROMPT PHOTOS NEEDED! SOMETHING INTERESTING! SOMETHING INTRIGUING! MY ONLY REQUEST IS THAT YOU DON’T SEND PICTURES OF ANIMALS OR STATUES. ONTO THE PHOTO BELOW. THANK YOU, DALE!

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

CLICK THE FROG TO ADD YOUR STORY

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FIRE AND ICE

“Corrie, we don’t have time to cry.” Her father’s eyes blazed. “Give thanks for our lives and pray for those who did this.”

Flames engulfed the only home the fifteen-year-old had ever known. How could she pray for evil people who hated them for the color of their skin?

Hours before they had enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner accompanied by laughter and music.  

Heart racing, she made a vow never to allow the ugliness to remain in the shadows.

Twenty-six years later, Coretta Scott King refused to bathe in her grief, saying, “Hate injures the hater more than it injures the hated.”

 

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19 February 2021

Published February 17, 2021 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 © Ted Strutz

Click to join the ranks. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

NO MAIL, LOW MORALE

           “I have a dream.” Dr. King’s words gave Millie hope for an end to her beloved country’s racial divide as she returned home from the march in Washington.

            Before she could open her door, someone tapped her shoulder. She whipped around to be caught in the blue-eyed gaze of a Raleigh policeman.

            “Mrs. Veasey, were you in the 6888 Postal Directory Battalion during WWII?”

            “And proud of it.” She stiffened. “We were the first black, female division in the US Army.”  

            “I was PFC Nelson…Belgium. No mail for months, until—” He saluted. “Thank you for your service, Ma’am.”

***

CLICK for more info about Mrs. Veasey and the Six-Triple-Eight

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12 February 2021

Published February 10, 2021 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 © Alicia Jamtaas

Click the Frog to Add Your Link

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

JUNE 12, 1943

“My little girl is a young woman.” Papa kissed Rutka’s cheek. “Happy fourteenth birthday!”

“I’ll never see my fifteenth.”

His reassuring smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Our God will protect you.”

“Will He? He allows innocent babies to have their heads smashed in while grandmothers are deported to the death camps.”

Rutka longed to go outside without a yellow star on her dress—to romp among fragrant flowers and trees.

“I’m young in age but old in experience,” she wrote in her diary. “The rope around us is getting tighter and tighter. Despite all these atrocities, I want to live…”

 

29 January 2021

Published January 27, 2021 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 © Marie Gail Stratford

Click the Frog to add your voice.

This week, January 27, marks the 76th anniversary of the Liberation of Auschwitz. May we never forget. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

MEYN SHEYNER FRINTZ

מיין שיינער פרינץ

For my fifth birthday in 1939, Papa, my handsome prince, gave me a beautiful book called “Kinder und Hausmärchen.”

The next year we went into hiding with Papa’s Christian friends in the country. Three years later the SS arrested us.

At nights in my bunk, I’d close my eyes and imagine Papa reading Briar Rose or Rapunzel, mimicking the ladies with squeaky falsetto voices to make me laugh.

I was eleven when American soldiers liberated us from the camp. I searched for my handsome prince, but Papa was nowhere to be found. For me there is no happily ever after.

Meyn Sheyner Frintz – My Handsome Prince in Yiddish

The Book was also known as Grimm’s Fairytales

It’s a 48 minute commitment but THIS LINK leads to a wonderful story of how one woman survived and has lived to tell and retell her story.

LANGUAGE OF THE HEART

Published January 27, 2021 by rochellewisoff

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

Click the Frog to add your voice.

I hope you’ll forgive me for taking places one and two on the Hollywood Squares. This story was begging to be told this week. 

Genre: Historical Fiction Circa 1966

Word Count: 100

LANGUAGE OF THE HEART

Supper dishes put away; Marie sank down on the sofa next to ten-year-old Rachel. “What’s on television?”

Hollywood Bowl. Marcel Marceau’s on tonight.”

“The mime? I met him.”

“Really, Mom?” Rachel gasped. “When?”

“Over twenty years ago.” As white-faced Marceau chased imaginary butterflies across the stage, memories flooded Marie. “After my parents were deported to Auschwitz my brother and I were put in an orphanage. Marcel was but a boy himself when he entertained us with his silent art and led us to safety over the Swiss border.”

“Wow. Did you get his autograph?”

Oui. It’s engraved on my heart.”

I had the pleasure of seeing him perform live in 1992. He was amazing even from the highest seat in the theatre. Click the photo to learn more about this Jewish boy from Strasbourg, France. 

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