30 April 2021

Published April 28, 2021 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE GREAT MISSISSIPPI FLOOD OF 1927

“I’m so glad the waters are finally receding.” Myrtle smoothed her blonde hair with one hand while sipping her lemonade. “It’s been an awful year, hasn’t it?”

Geraldine crunched an ice chip, savoring the cold on her tongue. “Dreadful. Just dreadful.”

“Daddy says he’s not sure how we will ever recover our losses.” Tears trickled from Myrtle’s blue eyes. “Momma’s carpets were washed away, Grandma’s china shattered and my best frocks are simply ruined.”

“Bless your heart. Why, I hear tell all our farmhands went north. Can you believe those selfish darkies deserted us in our hour of need?”

*

We don’t always like the characters we write, do we? I hope my story made you angry.

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23 April 2021

Published April 21, 2021 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

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No heroes this week. Just a slice of life.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count:

YOUTH HAS NO AGE

A cool breeze ruffled Elise’s hair. She hugged herself to stave off the night’s chill. Calliope music and the cloying scent of fairy floss did nothing to lift her spirits.

She slipped her brand-new Medicare card from her purse and scowled at it.

Ben wrapped his arms around her. Colored lights limned his silver-white hair and twinkled in his mischievous hazel eyes. “It’s only a number, honey.”

“Yeah. A really big number.”

“Pfft. Come on, Birthday Girl, let’s go for a whirl on the Ferris wheel.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his smile. “You know I’m afraid of heights.”

Click picture to view my ever-growing art page. Thank you.

15 April 2021

Published April 14, 2021 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Anne Higa

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AGENT 3844

Heart pounding, Virginia Hall caught her breath and massaged her aching hip. “That was a close call. Cuthbert, you’re always causing trouble.”

“You’ve named your wooden leg?” Virginia’s fellow agent, Armand, found a table in a darkened tavern. “Here. Rest fast.”

She forced a smile. “I was sure the Gestapo recognized me from the poster.”

“The artist certainly captured your likeness. But your disguise is good.”

“Perhaps not good enough.”

The tavern keeper brought two glasses of wine.

“It is my honor to serve with you.” Armand raised his glass. “To the lady who limps. Most dangerous of Allied spies.”

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2 April 2021

Published March 31, 2021 by rochellewisoff

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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.

YEE-HAW!!!

26 March 2021

Published March 24, 2021 by rochellewisoff

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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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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.

***

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Marcellus Gilmore Edson

George Washington Carver

12 March 2021

Published March 10, 2021 by rochellewisoff

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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

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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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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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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!

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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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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.”

***

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