21 August 2020

Published August 19, 2020 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 © Ted Strutz

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN THE FUN

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100

VISITANT

Lucinda rocked her son. “I should go downstairs and help Marion with breakfast.

She listened to the clatter of pots and pans and hugged the baby. “How clever of your auntie to open our home to boarders when your papa didn’t return from the war.”

A nightgown-clad child with huge brown eyes stood in the doorway. “Who are you?”

“The lady of the house. Who are you?”

“Lucinda, after my great-great grandmother.”

***

Lucinda pointed to a tintype of a woman with huge dark eyes. “I met her this morning.”

“Nonsense,” said Mom. “She died in childbirth a hundred years ago.

14 August 2020

Published August 12, 2020 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 -Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

CLICK THE DANCING FROG TO ADD YOUR LINK

Welcome to another week of SUMMER RERUNS. This week the story and prompt are from 14 November 2014. If you were with us that week, feel free to take a break and post your own rerun. 😀

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

FIRST DRAFT

“Can’t you imagine little Harry trying to climb the fig trees?” Ida’s eyes glittered. “He would’ve been three this year.”

“I miss him, too,” Harvey whispered.

Although his heart ached with loss, Harvey still counted his blessings. What could such a vibrant woman possibly see in him, a wheelchair bound invalid thirty years her senior?

“Maybe we’ll have another son. For now we have one hundred twenty acres of prime, undeveloped California land to subdivide.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with a kiss. “What shall we call our little town? Harryville?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s call it Hollywood.”

.

Daeida Hartell Wilcox Beveridge “The Mother of Hollywood”

Click here for more info.

Harvey Henderson Wilcox

8 August 2020

Published August 5, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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

CLICK FROG TO ADD YOUR LINK

Today I’m on my way to North Carolina with a supply of masks to visit my one and only brother. So once more, a SUMMER RERUN. If you wrote a story for this prompt from 10 April 2015, feel free to rerun yours. Thank you for understanding.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

ONLY THE MOUNTAIN REMAINS

My dearest Zhilan,

This night my thoughts turn toward home and you. I cherish the times we invited the moon to join us as we shared rice wine. Remember how we dreamed I would find Gold Mountain?

Now my journey is hard and my days are filled with the pickaxe and train tracks. Never will I see you again, my fragrant orchid, nor our precious son…

***

“Fever musta took him.” Levi knelt beside the body and pried a piece of crumpled paper from its stiff hand. “Whatcha make a this?”

Orville squinted and shrugged. “Jest some ignorant Chinee scribbles.”

More

31 July 2020

Published July 29, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Jean L. Hays

Between finishing a novel, writing a book proposal and visiting my one and only brother, I’ll be somewhat out of pocket for the the next couple of weeks. Therefore it’s SUMMER RERUN TIME. For those of you who recognize this prompt from 2013 and were part of Friday Fictioneers, feel free to reprise your own story.

CLICK FROG TO ADD YOUR LINK

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

KIA ORA

In March 1956, the year I turned fourteen, my best friend was murdered. They found her mangled body wedged in a rock crevice at Koutu Point.

For days I refused to get out of bed. No amount of Mum’s tea and sympathy could ease my broken heart or stem my anger.

The winter wind off the Tasman Sea brought waves of loneliness.

Never again will Opo and I swim together in Hokianga Harbour, but whenever I watch a dolphin spin above the water in gleeful abandon, I see her.

I hope the fisherman who blew up my Opo exploded, too.

Original artwork.
Copyright -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Opo_(dolphin)

With Dream Awakened Eyes

Published July 22, 2020 by rochellewisoff

I feel that more of Charlotte’s story needs to be told. So bear with me as I double dip this week.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Click on the frog picture to add your link.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WITH DREAM AWAKENED EYES

Following her grandparents’ deaths, a doctor suggested Charlotte take up painting to ease her depression. She lost herself in gouache. Every day her paintbrushes illustrated her life story. Humming, she rendered herself as a child waiting for her angel mother to return from heaven. Sketching by the sea. The Wehrmacht marching through the streets.

“I become them all,” she said. “I travel their paths. No power on earth can stop me.”

One night, she handed Dr. Moridis her hundreds of masterpieces. “Keep these safe, they are my whole life.”

Months later Charlotte Salomon and her unborn child perished in Auschwitz.

CLICK for more information

f4166acbc2729d611d7017d8c1b9cdb2--salomon-book-art

Charlotte Salomon with her grandparents

250px-Charlotte_Salomon_painting_in_the_garden_about_1939

Charlotte_Salomon_-_JHM_4762_-Kristallnacht

24 July 2020

Published July 22, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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

Click on the frog picture to add your link.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

INHERITANCE

“Your mother committed suicide, and her sister before her.” Grandfather sneered. “Now your grandmother. You’re all cursed.”

The night before, he’d forced Charlotte to share his bed “to ease his sorrow.”

She whipped and poured eggs into a skillet. “Influenza killed Mama.”

“Your papa lied. Mark my words, you’re next.”

She plopped an omelet onto his plate. “Bon apetit.”

“Aren’t you going to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” She propped her drawing board on her lap.

“What are you drawing now?”

“You, Grandfather. I want to remember this moment.”

“What did you put in this?”

“Not much. Salt, pepper and Veronal.”

*Did she murder her grandfather? Historians are divided.

Charlotte Salomon with her grandparents

17 July 2020

Published July 15, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 © Jean L. Hays

Genre: Rant

Word Count: 100

CUSTOMER SATISFACTION

A week ago, my “keep refrigerated” medication arrived—three days late and warm—via UPS.

I called their support number to discover “customer” and “service” is a UPS oxymoron. After pressing one for this and two for that, I complained to one agent after another. Each guaranteed pick-up and a call back from their center.

Four days later, I tossed the deceased meds and resorted to messaging UPS on social media.

The standard excuse: “Additional volume due to global health crisis. We’re working on a resolution.”

My promised UPS call came today and so did the replacement package—via FedEx.

10 July 2020

Published July 8, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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 @ A. Noni Mouse

Click the dancing frog to join the fun.

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

I REST MY CASE

My son slept on a mattress on the floor. Dirty glasses and plates with mold enough to save the planet from infection littered his room. Filthy clothes and towels covered the bed.

I fumed. “You could hide a body in this room.”

One morning I went to wake him for work. No Evan. I even called his friends.

My heart thrashed at red smears on my white cabinets.

Before I could call the police, Evan entered the kitchen. “Mo-om, why didn’t you wake me? Oh, sorry about the spaghetti sauce.”

“Told you. You can hide a body in that room.”

3 July 2020

Published July 1, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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.

Genre: Hysterical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STOP!

Jeff drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Damned red light.”

“Down, Scruffy.” Meredith looked up from her magazine. “Can you imagine the chaos without traffic lights? In fact, until 1923, our fair city of Cleveland was a mess until inventor Garrett Morgan witnessed a serious collision between an automobile and a cart. The horse had to be put down and a little girl was severely injured.”

“And…?”

“And Mr. Morgan patented a three-position traffic signal which brought order to roads worldwide. He later sold the patent to General Electric who added colored lights. Hey, Jeff?”

“What?”

“The light’s green.”

****

Garrett Morgan

CLICK for more info re Garrett Morgan

26 June 2020

Published June 24, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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.

Click to Add your story to the inLinkz

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

REMOVAL

Morning sun shoots burnished orange and golden flames across the horizon as I help Elisi gather wild onions. She’ll cook them with eggs, Cherokee style.

As we dig our fingers in the moist dirt, she tells me ancestral stories.

“My grandfather grew up in Georgia. A good life.”

“If it was so good, why’d they move to Oklahoma?”

“They had no choice, Unisi. Our people walked a thousand miles, some without shoes. My great-grandmother died, giving birth.” Tears trail Elisi’s wrinkled cheek. “President Jackson claimed it was to keep us out of harm’s way.

“Don’tcha mean out of his way?”

***

Elisi is Cherokee for Grandmother and Unisi means granddaughter.

*Cherokee, Creek, Choctaw, Chickasaw and Seminole had by the early 19th century begun to assimilate into Anglo-American culture. We can’t change history, but perhaps we can make our grandchildren’s history a sweeter memory.

If you have 17 minutes to spare to learn more CLICK HERE.

***

And if you have a little more time click the portrait below to listen to my latest interview with Jimmy Leonard and learn the reasons behind the painting. Thank you.