19 May 2023

Published May 17, 2023 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 © Liz Young

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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.

*

Click here for more of Kafka

ARMED WITH PAINTBRUSH AND KEYBOARD

Published January 17, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Chapter One

NATALYA, MOLDAVIA, THE PALE OF SETTLEMENT, EASTERN EUROPE, NOVEMBER 1899

Gunshots and screaming woke sixteen-year-old Havah Cohen from a sound and dreamless sleep. She ran to her window and saw flames shooting through the roof of the synagogue. Dense clouds of black smoke poured through the windows as men with shovels and rocks smashed the stained glass. By moonlight she could see her older brother lying beside the road in a bloodstained night shirt. Her other brother, a few feet away, lay face down.

“Papa!” She screamed when she saw him run from the inferno clutching the sacred scrolls.

~~From PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Published by Argus Publishing

Represented by Loiacono Literary Agency

***

Above is the opening paragraph to my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. To my knowledge, a shetl called Natalya, Moldavia never existed. On the other hand, the 1930 census lists my grandfather Sam Weiner’s birthplace as Rosinia, Poland which doesn’t seem to have existed either. I’ve searched the internet for every imaginable spelling. Then last year a Holocaust survivor from Poland confirmed what I’ve suspected for some time. Rosinia was probably one of those villages destroyed by pogromists.

I’ve often wondered how close to Havah’s story Grandpa’s came. All I know of his background came from my mother and a cousin. According to Mom, he came over from a part of the country that went from being part of Poland to being part of Russia. It was part of the Pale of Settlement in any case, the Jewish ghetto of Eastern Europe. Grandpa came to America at the age of 19 “with nothing but the shirt on his back.” He didn’t know his own birthday because those records that were kept in the synagogue had been destroyed. He taught himself to be a tailor.

Sam Weiner circa 1940-Something

History tells many stories of rabbis who sacrificed their lives to save the Torah scrolls. Havah’s father, Rabbi Shimon Cohen does just that as PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME opens.

At that moment Havah’s idyllic childhood ends and her journey begins. PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME, FROM SILT AND ASHES and recently released, AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN follow Havah, her friends and family from that night in 1899 to 1908.

Amazon Amazon AU Amazon UK Amazon CA Amazon DE Amazon IT Amazon FR Amazon ES Amazon IN Amazon JP B&N Smashwords KOBO Scribd Goodreads

Before the completion of AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN, my publisher asked if I would be interested in compiling a coffee table companion book that would include the character studies I’ve posted. It took a split second to answer that one! Presently I’m hard at work on this book which is due out this spring to be entitled:

5 April 2013

Published April 3, 2013 by rochellewisoff

NOW’S THE TIME TO MAKE THINGS WRITE WITH FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!

***Happy Birthday to Renee Homan Heath -April 3rd. ***

THE CHALLENGE:

Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going over or under the word count.)

THE KEY:

Make every word count.

THE RULES:

Copy your URL to the Linkz collection. You’ll find the tab following the photo prompt. It’s the little white box to the left with the blue froggy guy. Click on it and follow directions. This is the best way to get the most reads and comments.
MAKE SURE YOUR LINK IS SPECIFIC TO YOUR FLASH FICTION. (Should you find that you’ve made an error you can delete by clicking the little red ‘x’ that should appear under your icon. Then re-enter your URL. (If there’s no red x email me at Runtshell@aol.com. I can delete the wrong link for you).
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**Please exercise DISCRETION when commenting on a story! Be RESPECTFUL.**

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***************

My story will follow the prompt for those who might be distracted by reading a story before writing their own . I enjoy your comments.

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This week marks my 50th Friday Fictioneers’ story. I hope you don’t think me melodramatic when I say that it’s been a life-changing experience. I certainly didn’t expect to become the bus driver when I asked Madison how to join. I’ve made some great friends since last April. Thanks to all of you!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 99

FAMILY TREE

“‘And they lived happily ever after.’” Leah shut the storybook.

Shifra’s raisin-brown eyes, round as bottle caps, sparkled. “Bubbie? Did you love Grandpa at first sight?”

“He was only eight when we met. Mama took him in…hid him from the khappers, bad men who snatched little Jewish boys from their homes and made them serve twenty-five years in the Czar’s army.”

“Did she hide him in the closet?”

“No she was smart, my Mama.”

“He was like your brother, right?”

Leah pointed to a tintype on the table of two little bonneted girls and grinned. “More like my sister.”

Nu? Should you want to read more on the subject click here.