Friday Fictioneers

All posts tagged Friday Fictioneers

21 April 2017

Published April 19, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Blue Ceiling FF

Note: The inLinkz closes every Tuesday evening at 6:55 CDT to make way for the next that opens a few hours later. 

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Pane iced Banner

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 © Magaly Guerrero

PHOTO PROMPT © Magaly Guerrero

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

SPLIT WEEK

“Papa, how could you fire Joe?” Myra Cutler flung her dance shoes into her suitcase. “He was an asset to the show.”

“You’re only off by two letters.” Frank, head of the Cutler Comedy Club, embraced his seventeen-year-old daughter. “All that wastrel has on his mind is my talented baby girl. You’ve no future with him.”

 Pulling back, Myra clenched her teeth. “We’re going to be huge Vaudeville stars.”

___

A year later, in 1895, after a show in Piqua, Kansas, weary from performing, Myra gave birth to the third member of their act—Joseph Frank Keaton—better known as Buster.

***

keaton-family

Buster, Myra and Joe Keaton known in Vaudeville as “The Three Keatons”

For those unfamiliar with silent film star Buster Keaton, here’s a taste of his comedic genius. 

14 April 2017

Published April 12, 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 © Dale Rogerson

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Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

HAND-TOSSED

            Monticello, a town in Upstate New York, is where we spent the summer of 1965, the last summer of my childhood, with my aunt and uncle. Having never traveled far from Kansas City, this was the adventure of my eleven-going-on-twelve-year-old lifetime.

            Unlike KC, restaurants like the pizzeria where I had my first ever, true pizza, stayed open all night.

            My brother handed me the red pepper. “Try this.”

            Aunt Lu scowled. “Go easy, Rochelle.”

            Did I listen? 

            Although the gooey cheese and sauce melted in my mouth, the pepper burned all the way down—and all the way back up. 

 

7 April 2017

Published April 5, 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. 

get the InLinkz code

Please be considerate and try to keep your story to 100 words. Thank you. 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

ROAD KINGS

            Arthur mopped his forehead with his sleeve while holding his bicycle’s handlebar with his opposite hand. He tried to keep up with his buddy who had been blessed with longer legs.

            “Wait up, Bill!”

            The other boy grinned over his shoulder.  “Pedal faster, slowpoke. The fish ain’t gonna wait all day, ya know.”

            Once they reached the river, the boys laid their poles beside their bicycles and raced to the bank.

            Relishing the cool water, Arthur sighed. “Pedaling’s hard work. Someone oughta build a bike with a motor.”  

            “Who knows, Mr. Davidson?” Bill Harley splashed and sputtered. “Maybe someone will.”

*

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William S. Harley

Arthur Davidson

 

William S. Harley and Arthur Davidson circa 1914

(L-R) My Road King, Jan Fields with Arthur’s great nephew,”Willie G” Davidson and his biker babe.

24 March 2017

Published March 22, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Sunrise FF Banner

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Another Highway

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 © J Hardy Carroll

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Please be considerate and try to keep your story to 100 words. Thank you. 

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Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

COLD CASE

Mystery shrouded the vacant house at the end of the block.

According to the fifteen-year-old newspaper article I found while researching for a term paper, the place belonged to a young couple. One night someone broke in and savagely gutted Mrs. Jenson in her eighth month.

I asked my parents about it.

“Mr. Jenson hung himself,” said Dad. “Pity, they never found the baby.”

Mom flinched. “Glad they’re finally tearing that eyesore down.”

Dad’s spectral smile vanished and Mom turned ice-white when I presented them with the yellowed clipping and a photo of Mrs. Jenson who could’ve been my twin.

Interview: Meet Author, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published March 18, 2017 by rochellewisoff

I had great fun this past week interviewing with fellow author Sarah Potter. The magic of the internet and Skype certainly shorten the distance between us. What interesting times we live in. Thank you, Sarah!

Sarah Potter Writes

I’m thrilled to welcome author, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to my blog for a second time, on this happy occasion to interview her about her writing.  For those of you who missed her guest storyteller post back in November of last year, here’s a recap of her biography.

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…

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17 March 2017

Published March 15, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Erie Canal

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Flowers from the Hill 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 PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast


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Please be considerate and try to keep your story to 100 words. Thank you. 

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

VANISHING ACT

I raise my head and glare at my reflection. Tears make trails through the foaming skin cleanser.

Tomorrow I’ll walk down the aisle to my faithful Pavel.

I rinse my face and blot it dry.

Time heals all wounds they say.

Pavel’s diamond sparkles next to the pinky ring Enan gave me two years ago. I slip it off and read the engraving. “ILY Forever.”

“Forever didn’t last long, did it, Enan?”

Poof!

Now you see him, now you don’t.

The bastard.

Dropping Enan’s ring down the drain I bleed afresh.

I wish I could hate him, but I don’t.

10 March 2017

Published March 8, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Friday Fictioneers and Poppy

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The disc and the dragonfly

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 © Shaktiki Sharma

PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma

Please be considerate and try to keep your stories to 100 words. Thank you. 

 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME

“No, Poppa, don’t fence me-e-e-e i-i-in,” sang Ellen Cohen, her pudgy hands on her swaying hips.

Bess marveled at her seven-year-old daughter who looked at home under the bright lights. “Imagine, Phillip, our little girl at the Hippodrome.”

“Kate Smith couldn’t sing it better.” He grinned. “Today Baltimore, tomorrow Hollywood.”

After the show, anger drilled Bess when a stranger pinched Ellen’s cheek and said, “What a voice. Too bad she’s,” the woman lowered her voice, “on the zoftig side.”

The future Cass Elliot stuck out her tongue.  “Someday I’m going to be the most famous fat girl in the world.”

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Ellen Naomi Cohen aka Cass Elliot

September 19, 1941 – July 29, 1974

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