21 November 2025

Published November 19, 2025 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 © Sandra Crook

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

JULY 10, 1945

Teresa Fletcher breathed in the aroma of apple pie. “Do you think they’ll like my fried chicken?”

“Considering the slop they’ve probably had to eat; your cooking will seem like fine dining.” Bob grinned.

She beamed at her new husband with pride. For three years he’d taken care of Al and Mary’s farm ignoring slurs, threats, and even attacks from the townspeople.

When the Tsukamotos entered, Teresa opened her arms wide and cried, “Welcome home!”

“Our house looks better than when we left!” Mary hugged the newlyweds. “Why’d you do this for us?”

Bob shrugged. “It was the right thing.”

Mary and daughter Marielle Tsukamoto

It’s a lot to read but to know more CLICK HERE

25 October 2024

Published October 23, 2024 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 © Roger Bultot

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

PRELUDE TO A NIGHTMARE

The setting sun’s light made the waters of the sea sparkle. Aliseyu basked in its warmth. Hutash had been good to them today. A grand catch of fish would provide a feast for the village tonight.

Aliseyu’s father recounted histories with the other men who paddled their long tomol. Even though he’d heard it many times, Aliseyu never tired of hearing the story of Hutash leading her Chumash people over the rainbow bridge to their home by the ocean.

In the distance, a huge boat with white flags appeared. As it came closer, Aliseyu blinked. Perhaps it was a dream.

On our recent trip to California I learned of the Chumash people who all but perished at the hands of the Spanish. To learn a little more about them CLICK HERE.

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13 September 2024

Published September 11, 2024 by rochellewisoff

Please, please, sign your comments! Most of your names are coming through but there were at least five last week that were marked “Anonymous.” I really like to know to whom I’m replying. 😀 Thank you for your participation and reciprocation. Shalom, Rochelle

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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 © David Stewart

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THE BOX HEARD ‘ROUND THE WORLD

Dale folded a blanket and laid it in a box of linens. “I hate moving.”

Rochelle taped the top of another box and labeled it Bedroom with a marker. “Ever wonder who invented them?”

“Invented what?”

“Cardboard boxes.”

“No.”

“Robert Gair, who came to the United States in 1853 from Scotland on a ship by himself. He was only fourteen at the time. Can you imagine what that must’ve been like? Later he fought in the Civil War and after that, he worked in a paper factory.”

“So how did he invent the box?”

“Sorry, I’m fresh out of words.”

CLICK for a lot more about Robert Gair

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It’s still summer! 😉

9 August 2024

Published August 7, 2024 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 © Jennifer Pendergast

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

THE GOLDEN GOOSE

Clarabella climbed onto Alfred’s lap. “Tell me about Jacob, Grandad.”

“I was a lad in 1842, not quite nineteen, serving with the Coldstream Guard in the Canadian colonies. One of me mates had rescued a goose from a fox whilst on sentry duty. After that, the bird made himself quite at home, so we named him Jacob.”

Clarabella clapped her hands. “One night, Jacob spied some French rebels sneaking through the snow to attack. He squawked and flew at them. Your regiment showed their gratitude by making hiim an officer.”

“I’ve told you this story before, haven’t I?”

“O-Yes, Grandad.”

Some things you just can’t make up. CLICK HERE to meet the real Jacob

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26 July 2024

Published July 24, 2024 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 © Roger Bultot

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Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

TREDEGAR 1911

Tears streamed from my papa’s eyes, soaking his beard. “For this we fled Russia—to be slaughtered in Wales?”

I trembled. Last night I’d hidden under my bed, covering my ears to blot out angry shouts and the crash of shattering glass.

“Thank the Almighty we are alive,” said Mama.

“Ha! If God lived on the earth, the goyim would break His windows, too.”

At that moment a Christian youth entered our tailor shop, head bowed, and handed Papa a banknote. “Father sends his apologies.” The boy took a broom from the floor. “Perhaps we can help rebuild.”

For more on the history CLICK HERE

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Thank you, Dale for such a lovely review on LAST DANCE WITH ANNIE! 😀

12 July 2024

Published July 10, 2024 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 © Ronda Del Boccio

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Genre: Histerical Fiction
Word Count: 100

THE THLOT PICKENS

“It was a matter of time,” I told Lois. “The man was evil personified. He cast a dark shadow on everything and everyone. It boiled down to where and when.”

Lois looked up from her register. “How did you end up doing it?”

“Derringer at close range.”

A gasp interrupted our conversation. I turned to see a blue-haired lady clutching a cantaloupe, her eyes wide and mouth agape.

Busted! My cheeks blazed. I flashed a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was listening.”

“Not to worry,” Lois pointed at me. “She’s just a crazy writer.”

It’s not exactly fiction. An author needs to be careful what she says in public. 😉 Believe me, this character really did need killing.

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3 May 2024

Published May 1, 2024 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 © Ted Strutz

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Genre: Historical Ficton
Word Count: 100

CALL THE MIDWIFE

We couldn’t afford for Mama to have her baby at the white clinic, so Daddy hired Miss Coley.

“I ain’t lettin’ no dirty colored woman touch me,” said Mama.

Daddy shrugged. “Ain’t no choice, Maybelle.”

When Miss Mary came, she patted my head. “Look at them purty blue eyes.”

She arranged her birthing tools on newspapers. Then she scrubbed her hands. “Everything gotsta be extra clean.”

Miss Mary sat with Mama all night until my baby brother was born. Two years later, even though times was better, Mama wouldn’t trust nobody else to bring my baby sister into the world.

I couldn’t resist using the title. It just seemed to fit. You can read more about Miss Mary HERE

You can watch the 1952 documentary about Miss Mary HERE

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Last Dance With Annie will be available June 4th in paperback, hardcover, and ebook. Preorder on Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and more! (click “more” for four more places to preorder. :D)

Here’s an installment of an interview I did for Ozark Hollow Press:

19 May 2023

Published May 17, 2023 by rochellewisoff

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As of this Wednesday morning I will only be back in the country a day or so. In anticipation of jet lag I’m sharing a snippet of my the last book of Havah’s trilogy. AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN. I’ve reworked it a bit to fit into the stand-alone (which I hope it does) 100 word format.

When I was writing this novel, set in Kansas City, Missouri in 1908, I was thrilled to find that this Chinese restaurant my family frequented during the 1950’s was in existence way back when. I thought Havah should enjoy it, too. 😉

A GOOD JEWISH MEAL

Havah marveled at the glossy woodwork that adorned the dining room of the King Joy Lo restaurant. She drank in unfamiliar aromas.

Picking up a pair of ivory sticks beside her plate, she studied the elegant calligraphy etched into them. “These are beautiful, but what are they for?”

“Chopsticks. For eating.” The waiter took them and lifted a piece of chicken between them. “Easy. Even babies in China use. Now you.”

Try as she might, they slipped between her fingers and fell amid the noodles on her plate.

“How on earth do they do it?”

“Like American babies. Very messy.”

CLICK to find out more about Havah’s Journey

Here are a few pictures of King Joy Lo through the years:

Engaging, Uplifting and Altogether Heartbreaking

Published August 2, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Some of my readers may recognize the name of this prolific participant in Friday Fictioneers. Over the past week, I’ve been completely lost in this beautifully written novel. So I’m posting my review here.

I never did learn to speed read. It will usually take me a while to plod through a book, even if I’m enjoying the read. It’s rare for me to pick up a 400 plus page novel and read it from cover to cover in three days.

Emilia by Na’ama Yehuda is one of those books. The multi-faceted story sucked me in from the first paragraph and didn’t cut me loose until the last line.

Granted, other tasks ended up in the ignore pile. Things like sleeping.

Set in the 1800’s, the story opens with KayAnne, Emilia’s tutor, rescuing the child from the unimaginable horror she’s suffered at the hands of her guardian. Determined to take Emilia to a safe place, KayAnne boards a train to a place she’s only heard of in passing—a lighthouse run by an old woman who helps broken women heal.

Not only did the compelling story draw me in, but the well-developed characters from Marion the keeper of the lighthouse to Big Ben, a gentle intuitive horse. The moment I met Marion, I felt safe.

I laughed at the antics of puppy, Billy-Boo and ground my teeth at the cruelty exhibited by certain characters. The intricate plot twists kept me engaged and in suspense. As I came to the final line, my heart cried out for more.

Na’ama’s experience working with childhood trauma shines through exquisitely in this sensitively written novel.

Na’ama Yehuda

You can find EMILIA here.

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Published February 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is back in Europe, visiting the Czech Republic for the first time. You’re invited to stroll the city of Karlovy Vary and choose your own view. Take your inspiration and write no more 150 words. Once your poem, story, or essay is polished, share it with others at the link up below:

I’m a little late to the party this week, but after being MIA for the past two weeks, I’m happy to have made it. 😉 Many thanks to Karen and Josh for their dedication to their growing challenge. I’m pleased to announce that I’m rounding the bend of the final heat for A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. Hopefully it will debut this Spring.

Here’s the photo I chose from the Pegman Buffet. My story doesn’t exactly take place here but a few kilometers away in Prague.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Shadow monsters chased Franz. Twisted trees and thorny brambles caught his clothes. He snapped open his eyes. Demons vanished like steam over Mother’s cooking pot.

The wind blustered and howled outside, sounding like shouts of tyrants and wails of children. Franz’s tongue cleaved to the bottom of his mouth.

He cried out. “May I have a drink of water?”

“Go back to sleep, you little insect,” his father hollered.

“Please, Father, I am so thirsty.”

“Thirsty are you?” Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Franz opened his eyes. Father loomed over the bed like the ominous forest creatures of his nightmare. Instead of comforting words the child longed for, Father carried him to the balcony. “Never disturb my sleep again.” The door locked behind him.

Frigid wind whipped through the boy’s thin nightgown. For the rest of his all-too-brief life, Franz Kafka despaired of ever winning his father’s love.

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