12 October 2018

Published October 10, 2018 by rochellewisoff

As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

CRY OF THE HUMAN SPIRIT

Ten-year-old Annie had never ridden on a train. Cousin Anastasia said it would take her and her brother to Springfield. How odd. Stasia never kissed her before. What did Uncle John mean when he muttered, “Almshouse”?

“D’ya think Nellie and Mama and Johnny are happy in Heaven, Jimmie?” Annie asked.

His feverish snoring answered her. She wished she could see the scenery whizzing by.

“Not to worry, little one,” said her invisible faerie friend with an Irish brogue. “Someday you’ll do great things.”

“Me? How? I’m only an ignorant blind girl nobody wants.”

“Trust me, darlin’ Annie Sullivan. You will.”

Helen Keller with Annie Sullivan Macy (Teacher)

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5 October 2018

Published October 3, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 © Sandra Crook

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Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

SHELL GAME

We flocked to the record racks to buy his LP’s. I did my best to memorize those monologues. Remember the slush ball?

“Junior Barns, you gunky.” That one made me laugh until tears rolled.

I spied Scotty, partner of undercover tennis bum Kelly. With humor, they solved crime after crime.

Every time I drove my Beetle, I heard him say to a raucous audience, “When the fan belt breaks we use a rubber band.”

The accusations rocked my world as Bill Cosby plummeted from his pedestal. A deep sense of loss floods me.

The jokes aren’t funny anymore, are they?

28 September 2018

Published September 26, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 © Yvette Prior

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE BUTLER DID IT

Six-year-old Billy earned a bit here and there on the Post-Civil War streets of Richmond dancing for anyone who’d watch.

A passerby tossed a penny at the boy’s feet. “Cute little darky.”

Determined to be more than a ‘pickaninny,’ Billy tapped his way from Vaudeville to the Harlem, and, ultimately, to Broadway. Top hat and tails became his trademarks.

Hollywood relegated him to servant roles.

“Everything’s copacetic.” He said as he instructed his diminutive partner. “Take small steps or you know what happens.”

Slipping her lily-white hand in Bill “Bojangles” Robinson’s, Shirley Temple giggled. “Yeah, I fall on my keester.”

****

Here’s a taste of what I’m talking about:

21 September 2018

Published September 19, 2018 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: Whimsy

Word Count: 100

BUMBERSHOOT

Dark clouds gathered, threatening to spoil Eric and Alistair’s sightseeing.

After months of emails and planning, the two blog buddies decided to meet in London since Eric had never been away from the States.

“Did you think to bring a brolly?”

Eric’s brow furrowed. “Why would I bring a trolley?”

Rain pelted Alistair’s forehead and dribbled into his eyes. “Are you deaf? I said ‘brolly.’ Not trolley. You know. A gamp.” He sputtered. “Can’t you Yanks understand plain English?”

Eric shrugged. “It certainly rains a lot over here. As you Brits say, it’s a good job I brought an umbrella.”

14 September 2018

Published September 12, 2018 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 © J Hardy Carroll

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Genre: Some might find it humorous

Word Count: 100

This is based on fact. I recently was called for jury duty. A day spent waiting…and reading. I think I can blame Russell for the inspiration. When I wasn’t sketching or snoozing, I was reading my signed copy of “The Perils of Heavy Thinking.” That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

MEMBER OF THE BORED

My day in court arrives. I spend hours in a sterile waiting room with 74 other potential jurors before moving to the courtroom. To pass the time I sketch the man in front of me.

Who among us will be chosen to spend the next five days deliberating? Not I.

So…

Will it be the blonde with a rock on her finger the size of Texas? Or maybe the brunette whose attributes are barely contained will catch the judge’s eye. Or what about the dainty young thing in striped hoodie and floral pajama pants?

The possibilities fire this writer’s imagination.

***

Not Boring

A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY

The coffee table companion to Havah’s Trilogy

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24 August 2018

Published August 22, 2018 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 © Carla Bicomong

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHAT A GREAT LIFE IT MUST SEEM

“You’re such a success, Elise.” says Mary. “I’m jealous.”

“You got it all, girlfriend,” Barbara adds. “You’re a published author and an artist? If I could do what you do, I’d truly be happy.”

Her compliment is coupled with a longing gaze at Elise’s recently finished seascape.

A mixture of pride and something other than joy floods Elise as her admirers kiss her cheek and leave. She sinks to her knees under the weight of her adult daughter’s scathing words, spewed in anger the night before. Her accusations haunt Elise and reduce her to ash.

“I’m such a failure.”

17 August 2018

Published August 15, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 © Yvette Prior

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Genre: Histrionic Faction

Word Count: 100

UNLUCKY STRIKE

Remember how commercials bombarded us with catchy slogans?

“I’d rather fight than switch.”

“Winston tastes good, like a cigarette should.”

Serling delivered his famous Twilight Zone intros while wisps of smoke framed his face.

During his renowned interviews in the 1950’s, Mike Wallace brandished his ubiquitous coffin nail.

I coughed. “I wish you’d quit smoking those nasty things, Mommy.”

Taking a long drag, she covered a burn hole in her skirt with a daisy applique. “I need them to calm my nerves.”

She finally quit in 1980—just a year before lung cancer claimed her.

“Were they worth it, Mom?”

These little goodies came on the back Raleigh cigarettes. You could save them and buy all kinds of things, from jewelry to appliances. We used to joke that Mom would use hers for an iron lung. Somehow that’s not as funny as it used to be.

10 August 2018

Published August 8, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

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 © Ronda Del Boccio

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Genre: Realistic Fiction – Based on more than one true story.

Word Count: 100

BRICK BY BRICK

Kendra remembers the first magical moment she cradled her newborn.

Her pediatrician’s brow furrowed. “She has a slight heart defect but that’s not our foremost concern.”

Kendra became familiar with terms like ‘extra chromosome’ and ‘developmentally challenged.’

Defying all obstacles, Hanna trained as a gymnast with ‘normal’ girls, surpassing many of them in strength and grace. At the Special Olympics, she walked away with several trophies and a boyfriend, a medal-winning swimmer.

Kendra blinks back tears as two kindred souls gaze into each other’s eyes.

Although her speech is slurred, Hannah’s halting words are clear. “I Hannah take thee, Calan…”

*

Maryanne and Tommy Pilling have been happily married for 23 years.

For an inspiring true story CLICK HERE

3 August 2018

Published August 1, 2018 by rochellewisoff

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As always, please be considerate of your fellow Fictioneers and keep your stories to 100 words. (Title is not included in the word count.) Many thanks.

Note- I am out of town this week so my replies and comments will be delayed. Thank you for understanding. Shalom, Rochelle

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.

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Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

ANNIVERSARY WALTZ

“Oh how we danced on the night we were wed.”

Charlene remembers the song the band played for their first dance as man and wife. With his wavy blond hair, Larry was her Prince Charming.

His hot breath in her ear gave her shivers when he sang, “Two hearts gently beating were murmuring low.”

An unrestrained belch brings her back to the present. His golden curls are long gone, but his eyes remain as blue as ever. She leans her head on his shoulder.

His hot breath still gives her shivers when he sings “My darling, I love you so.”

****

NOTE ON MY PROCESS

(not required reading. 😉 )

Without a doubt, there are some of you scratching your heads, wondering how I came up with this story from that photo. I understand. As briefly as possible I will try to explain. At first glance the photo said “Dust in the Wind.” (dry leaves, etc) From there my mind took me to crumbling relationships like marriages that end up being anything but “Happily Ever After.” From there I looked up the lyrics to the Anniversary Waltz. Somehow, my muse decided that my story should have a happy ending. So there you have it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 😉

Shalom,

Rochelle

27 July 2018

Published July 25, 2018 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.

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Genre: Historical/Biographical Fiction

Word Count: 100

STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

After thirty hours of labor, at 3 o’clock in the morning, Dolly’s desperate physician resorted to forceps to deliver her baby.

Dolly clutched her sister’s hand. “Josie, is it a girl? I don’t hear her cry. Is she—?”

“Stillborn,” said the doctor, sweat beading his forehead. “He nearly killed his mama.”

The midwife laid the motionless infant on the kitchen scale. “Thirteen pounds. Big boy for such a tiny mother.” She held him under running water. “Sveglia!”

He sputtered and cried.

“Hello, piccolo sconosciuto.” Dolly Sinatra took her wailing son in her arms. “Just listen to my Francis sing.”

*piccolo sconosciuto is Italian for ‘little stranger’

Sveglia is “Wake up!”

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Because a story about Old Blue Eyes wouldn’t be complete without a song, I leave you with one that Frank Sinatra hated when he first heard it. Doobie doobie doo.