Happy Childhood Memories

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Weekend Writing Prompt – Impact

Published August 22, 2020 by rochellewisoff

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.

Once more this prompt took me down Memory Lane. Whether deserved or not, my Aunt Edith was a legend in our house. Hers was my first experience with the death of a loved one. 

L’DOR V’DOR*

When I was eight Aunt Edith passed away. My mother’s sister lived in the house behind ours.

Memories. Faded impressions. Passover seders at Grandpa’s. A gold demitasse cup she kept just for me. The prayer book I wish I’d kept.  I’ve searched for it online. Out of print.

 I still remember my aunt’s attempts to teach me manners. “Ladies say ‘yes’ not ‘yeah.’”

She made an impact.

*From generation to generation.

My mother is the short lady on the left. Aunt Edith is the bride. Sometime in the late 1930’s or early 1940’s.

21 October 2016

Published October 19, 2016 by rochellewisoff

ANNOUNCING  GREAT NEWS!!!

Alicia Jamtaas has been published! Her short story, “A Private Death” has been included in the fall issue of  “Sweet Tree Review.” aliciaWay to go Alicia!

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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 © Claire Fuller

PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller

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Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

PENNY-ANTE

            Sunday was “Fan Tan” night when I was eight. My family played the card game for pennies.    

            “Where’s that seven of hearts?” Dad tossed a copper on the table with mock disgust. “Shelly? You only have one card left?”

            “The little brat’s got it,” said my fourteen-year-old brother pitching his coin.

            I batted my eyelashes. “Why, Jeffrey, whatever do you mean?” With a dramatic flourish, I laid down the seven. “I win!”

            It’s not the victories I remember as much as the unprecedented peace between my parents, my father’s relentless teasing, and laughing so hard I nearly wet my pants.

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.jeff-and-rochelle-circa-1960-with-border

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