24 September 2021

Published September 22, 2021 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.

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

AT THE CRYSTAL PALACE IN 1854

“Don’t go, Elisha. Please.” Elizabeth grasped his arm. “Don’t make me a widow.”

He caressed her cheek. “Have faith, Lizzie.”

Sweat beading on his forehead and sluicing between his shoulder blades, he stepped onto the platform.

As it rose higher and higher, he gazed over the edge at the hushed crowd and questioned his own sanity.

He called out to the axe man. “Cut the rope.”

A collective gasp erupted from the audience. Elisha Otis’ stomach somersaulted as the platform dropped, then halted. Thunderous applause exploded in his ears. His safety locking mechanism worked, and the modern elevator was born.

CLICK for more

17 September 2021

Published September 15, 2021 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.

Thanks to Keith Hillman for the frog **Click to Join the Fun**.

Genre: Questionable Fiction
Word Count: 100

PENTIMENTO

“There are no mistakes,” said the artist. “Only happy accidents.”

His soft voice caressed the TV viewer’s ears while he made love to a cloud with his wide brush. Often, he brought wild animals onto the set. He was nature lover first. Artist second. Passion on canvas.

Magnificent scenes appeared under his skillful hand in half an hour week after happy week.

“Believe strongly enough and you can make it happen,” he’d say.

We believed, didn’t we?

Mystery paints his final days. Smoking and inhaling paint thinner may have taken his life, but who owns the rights to his legacy?

Some extra curricular reading.

20 August 2021

Published August 18, 2021 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.

I confess, this is a rerun from four years ago. Some might remember, some won’t. At any rate, I’ve been out town for a week and am taking the liberty of not racking my brain to come up with a new story. 😉 It is a new prompt though.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

ROAD KINGS

Arthur mopped his forehead with his sleeve while holding his bicycle’s handlebar with his opposite hand. He tried to keep up with his buddy who had been blessed with longer legs.

“Wait up, Bill!”

The other boy grinned over his shoulder. “Pedal faster, slowpoke. The fish ain’t gonna wait all day, ya know.”

Once they reached the river, the boys laid their poles beside their bicycles and raced to the bank.

Relishing the cool water, Arthur sighed. “Pedaling’s hard work. Someone oughta build a bike with a motor.”

“Who knows, Mr. Davidson?” Bill Harley splashed and sputtered. “Maybe someone will.”

William S. Harley and Arthur Davidson circa 1914

(L-R) My Road King, Jan Fields with Arthur’s great nephew, “Willie G” Davidson and his biker babe.

13 August 2021

Published August 11, 2021 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

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.

Genre: Histrionic Fiction
Word Count: 100

PEACE BY PIECE

“Whatcha doin’ sis?”

“If you must know, I’m working a five-hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle. There.” Mindy snapped a corner in place. “That completes the border. Wanna help?”

Mike donned his baseball mitt. “Nah. Looks like work to me. Why would anyone waste their time like that?”

“Glad you asked. British cartographer James Spilsbury invented the dissected map in 1762 as an educational tool for the Royals’ children.”

“Uh, sis…?”

“Fast forward to 1933. Die-cast puzzles became all the rage. Cheap entertainment to—”

“Yoo-hoo?”

Mindy huffed. “What?”

“I’m not a history expert like you, but I’m pretty sure that’s John Spilsbury.”

A bit more history of the jigsaw puzzle.

30 July 2021

Published July 28, 2021 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.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WITZ KRIEG

Allan sucked in his lower lip. Did Mom really say, “Your father and I are getting a divorce. Which of us do you want to live with?”

“Rose, the boy’s only eight,” said Dad.

Looking from one parent to the other, sensing no affection from either, Allen blurted out, “I want to live with Grandma and Grandpa Sherman. They love me.”

In the midst of his warped and disjointed world, being shuffled from house to house and school to school, Allan Sherman found comfort in food, writing and humor.

In 1962 his writing and humor made him an overweight success.

***

Allan Sherman’s bright star fizzled after President Kennedy’s assassination. In 1973 his poor life choices caught up with him and he passed away ten days shy of his forty-ninth birthday.

Allan Sherman has been called Weird Al Yankovic’s “Founding Faddah.” Reportedly, President John F. Kennedy was a fan of Mr. Sherman’s parody songs. To know a little more about the man under the beanie CLICK HERE.

16 July 2021

Published July 14, 2021 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.

Yes, it’s one of “those” stories from me. (No apologies). The subject is heavy on the mind of Kansas Citians this summer as the Auschwitz exhibit “Not Long Ago. Not Far Away.” is at our Union Station until September. Not to mention, this weekend is Tisha B’av or the 9th of Av when, historically, many calamities befell the Jews, including the fall of the temple in 70 C.E. and the deportation from the Warsaw Ghetto (July 23, 1942) to Treblinka. It is observed with fasting as one of the saddest days on the Jewish calendar.

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

THE HYENA

“The train took us to Auschwitz.” Marta tried to still her voice echoing in the microphone. “From there they forced us to walk to Bergen-Belsen.”

“How old are you, Marta?”

“Seventeen, sir.”

The lawyer pointed at the group of numbered defendants. “Are any of these familiar?”

A young woman glared at her with ice-blue eyes. Marta shuddered. “Number nine. She tormented starving children with scraps of food and whipped them to death when they cried.”

“I’ve heard Irma Grese laughed on her way to the gallows,” said Marta seventy years later. “Now I can laugh as she rots in hell.”

CLICK FOR MORE ABOUT THE “HYENA OF AUSCHWITZ”

9 July 2021

Published July 7, 2021 by rochellewisoff

For those who know our MIA FF’r Ted Strutz who suffered a stroke a while back, I wanted to share his progress.

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.

CLICK TO JOIN

A few might remember a longer version of this story I posted for “What Pegman Saw” in 2017. With the summer being as busy as it is, it seemed like a good time to share a rerun. 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

COUNTRY ROADS

“My dearest Jimmy,

Remember 1971? The year we came back from Vietnam. John Denver must’ve written his hit with you in mind.

“‘Pineville, West Virginia,’ you whispered low and sweet. Your eyes shone like the stars over the Shenandoah River. You laughed. ‘Just a Podunk town in the middle of nowhere.’

Nonetheless, to you it was ’almost heaven’.”

Sharon tucked the note inside his guitar and leaned it against his headstone. “I kept my promise to meet you here, Jimmy.”

Forever she would carry his face in her heart and hear his last words, “Nurse, please don’t let me die.”

***

In this image provided by the U.S. Army, the 2nd Brigade was faced with a new problem at their Bien Hoa, Vietnam base: from Fort Rilay to Vietnam come the 93rd Evacuation Hospital complete with nurses on Dec. 19, 1965. The problem of getting a private shower for the girls fell to Company B 1st Engineer Battalion. In the interests of the health, welfare and cleanliness of the nurses, the men of Company B decided to give up their own air-conditioned shower. The dressing area of the shower was boarded up and the entrance-way closed off. An appropriate “Off Limits” sign was made and posted. (AP Photo/U.S. Army)

25 June 2021

Published June 23, 2021 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.

Hear the author read. 🙂

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

FOREST OF THE MARTYRS

Avraham set the seedling in the hole he had dug. “Blessed are You, Master of the Universe, Creator of life. May the memories of my Sarah and our little Isaac be blessed.”

Hannah helped Avraham cover the tender roots with sandy soil. “May the memory of my Shmuel also be blessed.”

Under Israel’s hot summer sun many others had come to plant. Their goal was to raise six million trees, one for each life taken.”

Avraham placed his hand on Hannah’s belly and smiled through his tears when their unborn child kicked. “By their deaths, they commanded us to live.”

The six million trees, planted in 1951 by Jewish National Fund, World B’nai Brith and immigrants, are a living monument of eternally green memorial candles for the six million of our people who perished during World War II.

Weekend Writing Prompt – Galaxy

Published June 13, 2021 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.

BEFORE WE WENT THERE

“I bet I can make this one reach the stars.” Eight-year-old Alan spun the propeller of his latest model airplane. “Maybe it’ll even fly across the whole galaxy.”

“Aw, you’re goofy.” Bobby caught a firefly and dropped it into a fruit jar. “It’s just a toy.”

Alan dropped down on the ground. Cool grass tickled his neck. He gazed at the stars in the dark summer sky. “Someday. You wait and see. I’m going to fly clear to outer space.”

“Say hello to the little green men for me when you do.”

Alan Shepard was the first American to travel to outer space in May 1961. So began the Space Race.

To know a little more CLICK.

21 May 2021

Published May 19, 2021 by rochellewisoff

Dear Friday Fictioneers,
😦 Our friend and fellow Friday Fictioneer in Friday Harbor (of all places) has suffered a stroke. We wish him a swift recovery. And for those who would like to send him a card or note to cheer him on, email me at rwisofffields.wordart@gmail.com for the address.
Shalom,
Rochelle

Like us on Facebook.

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.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

THE GOLDEN DOOR

5 July 1887

Dearest Anya,

“Greetings from the city of New York. Last night I went to watch fireworks and see the new Statue of Liberty. She is magnificent. I can’t wait until you see her with your own eyes.

You ask how I am. What could be better than living in the land of opportunity?

Angry shouts echoed from downstairs. Shlomo stopped writing his letter and surveyed his one-room apartment. He continued, “There are no Cossacks.” A baby howled in the flat next door. Shlomo’s stomach rumbled. He looked out at the peaceful street and wrote, “All is well.”

***