21 February 2020

Published February 19, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn Miller

CLICK THE FLYING FROG TO JOIN!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

February is National Black History Month in the States. There are so many amazing people, history ignored. I enjoy meeting people I should’ve learned about in school.

QUEEN BESSIE

Bessie surveyed the Waxahachie, Texas Fairground. She never dreamed she’d be performing in her childhood town. Shielding her eyes, she gazed up into the sky. The only place she could truly be free.

The entrance to the park read, “Whites Only.”

Head held high, pounding with indignation, she stormed through the gate and barged into the manager’s office.

“I didn’t go all the way to France to earn my license for this. Am I not the first colored pilot in America?”

“Yes, Miss Coleman, but—”

“If my people aren’t treated with respect, there’ll be no show. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

*Note: I call this fiction because, while I know the incident is fact, I don’t know the exact words Miss Coleman used to get her point across. 😉

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14 February 2020

Published February 12, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Click the Frogs (who aren’t blue) to Hop Along

Genre: Histrionic Fiction

Word Count: 100

OVERDOSE

It’s an icy Missouri day that makes me want to swaddle myself in flannel, sip hot chocolate and watch ancient black and whites.

I flip through the channels. There. “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. Love me some Gary Cooper.” I settle in.

All at once, one of my favorite movie moments where Longfellow Deeds expresses his admiration for Mary Dawson is interrupted by a drug advertisement. An adorable toddler chases after an irresistible puppy while the announcer rattles off the possibly fatal side effects.

Aromatase inhibitors? Sulfonylureas? Cosentix? Eliquis? Methotrexate?

I’d walk a mile for an old fashion cigarette commercial.

*Note: I don’t know if this is a United States only lament but it seems there’s a new drug on the market every day. It’s not like we can go to the local pharmacy and get these without a prescription so I don’t know why we’re bombarded with annoying advertisements.

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7 February 2020

Published February 5, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ulrika Undén

For a good time, click the frog!

Genre: Nothing but the Truth

Word Count: 100

THE LITTLE OLD LADY FROM PASADENA

Growing up during the Great Depression, did Maurine Kornfeld figure she’d have already climbed the stairway to Heaven by the year 2020?

Like many Americans she retired at age 65. Although she never cared for swimming as a youngster, she joined a Masters Swim group at the YMCA to stay fit. Setting her first record at age 90, she was recently inducted into the International Masters Swimming Hall of Fame.

When asked her secret, she replied, eyes twinkling. “If you can’t outswim them, outlive them.”

“Mighty Mo” is my new hero. I want to be her when I grow up.

*

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31 January 2020

Published January 29, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

JUST FOR THE FUN OF IT, CLICK THE FROG

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

In the Talmud it is written, “To save the life of one man is to save the world.”

TO SAVE ONE LIFE

Pain seared through the fifteen-year-old’s leg. “I’m so clumsy.”

“The snow is slippery. Needless to say, you won’t be dancing for a while, ma chérie.” The doctor’s kind eyes brimmed. “It’s a severe break. You need to be in hospital.”

“No, the SS—”

“Without medical care, one leg will end up shorter than the other.”

“Better to limp than be dead.” Huguette moaned.

“Then you’ll stay here—in my chalet.”

Today, Huguette is petitioning Yad V’Shem to recognize Dr. Frédéric Pétri of Val d’Isère as one of the Righteous among the Nations. Ken Y’hi Ratzon. May it be so.

To read more CLICK HERE. Thank you, Dale for sharing this with me.

No reason to include this video with this story. No reason.

24 January 2020

Published January 22, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Click Frog and Enjoy!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

TRIBUTE IN CHOCOLATE, VANILLA AND COFFEE

“Rose, try my new flavor. It’ll be a sensation!” Reuben Mattus scooped a white dollop into a bowl. “How fortuitous that my injection pump should malfunction.”

“Nu?” His wife looked up from her ledger. “It’s vanilla ice cream. You’ve been making it for over forty years.”

“Not like this.”

The dense confection sent shivers of delight through her. “Oy, you’re right.”

“What do you think of Häagen-Dazs for a name?”

“What’s it mean?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. But it sounds Danish.”

“Why Danish?”

“To thank Denmark for its kind protection of our people from that mamzer who called himself the Führer.”

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10 January 2020

Published January 8, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr

Click the Camping Frogs to Add your Link!

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

FREESTYLE INSOMNOLENCE

The clock beside the bed ticked. Zero-dark-thirty. 3:00 AM.

Sleep refused her while loons mocked. Ted snored away what remained of the night.

Snozzzz. Tick-snozz. Tick-tick. Snarzzzzzz.

“I give up!”

Elise slipped on her swimsuit and stepped outside. Campground lights reflected off the pool water. She dove in and swam until tension floated from her shoulders.

Ted snored his welcome when she tucked back in beside him. Deliciously drowsy, she checked the clock before drifting off. 5:00.

Two hours later, he shook her. Sun poured through the windows. “Hey lazybones, gonna sleep all day? How ‘bout a nice invigorating swim?”

3 January 2020

Published January 1, 2020 by rochellewisoff

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(However it’s mine…and a rerun. Some may remember it. 😉 ) Since we’re still in the holiday season I’m posting yet another rerun. This one is from January 2013.

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Click the Frog to Join the festivities!

Genre: Autobiography

Word Count: 100

SUNRISE, SUNSET

Every Sunday my mother dragged me to my grandfather’s house. She urged me to get to know him, learn from him. After all, he’d survived Russia’s pogroms. My family history.

I feared him and asked no questions. He offered no stories.

One week mom took a vinyl copy of Fiddler on the Roof for him to hear. His timeworn torso sank into his recliner as he listened to Tevye the milkman sing.

“If I were a rich man, yaba-deebee-deebee-bum.”

Fifty years later I still remember how my austere grandfather’s granite-hard eyes transformed to liquid quartz. “My father sang…just like that.”

***

I chose to share the following version of the song. It’s the one my grandfather listened to.

27 December 2019

Published December 24, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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Click on the Frog to join the Festivities!

Due to my scheduling error, this has gone live on Tuesday instead of Wednesday. Consider it a Christmas or Hanukkah present. Easier to leave it than take it down and start over. Oops.

Shalom,

Rochelle

Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! This week I’m taking a break and posting a retread from nearly six years ago. Some may recognize the story. (different photo) A special thank you to those who have been with Friday Fictioneers as long or longer than I.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A SOLDIER OF THE GREAT WAR

In 1918 Dad deployed to France singing “Over There” and returned, months later, a sullen shell.

Then, for Christmas 1919, Grandma gave me a stub-tailed, bull-terrier puppy.

Instead of the “you-can’t-keep-it” snarl I expected, Dad grinned.

“He’s the spittin’ image of the bravest soldier in the 102^nd. Bullets and mustard gas couldn’t defeat him.”

“He looked like a dog?”

“Not ‘looked like,’ son. I’d a never made it outta the trenches if that pooch hadn’t…”

Dad coughed and blinked, took my pup under one arm, straightened to attention and raised his hand-hook to his brow.

“Sergeant Stubby, I salute you!”

20 DECEMBER 2019

Published December 18, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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Click the Frog & Hop Aboard!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STRONG MEDICINE

Susan rocked three-year-old Pierre as she watched snow fall outside the window. She kissed his damp forehead.

Six-year-old Caryl padded into the room and climbed up beside his brother. “Can you make him well, Momma?”

She tweaked Caryl’s nose. “He’ll be breaking your toys by breakfast.”

“You’re the bestest.” Caryl’s dark eyes shone. “Why did you become a doctor?”

“I was a little older than you when I watched a sick woman die. Mama sent for the doctor—not once, but four times.”

“Why didn’t he come?”

“To him she was an Indian like us and her life didn’t matter.”

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13 December 2019

Published December 11, 2019 by rochellewisoff

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