29 September 2017

Published September 27, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Our Mantra

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

With its battered tin roof it looks like an old warehouse that has been abandoned. The windows aren’t broken and the concrete walls look rough. What story does this old shell of a building with its brick chimney tell you? Can you tell the rest of us in 100 words?

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

RADIUM DIAL

“Jinny was barely growed. 1914-1934” Her lower lip quivered as she traced the dates on the headstone with a frail finger. “She earned $17.50 a week painting them glow-in-the-dark clock numbers.”

Wind gusting across St. Columbus Cemetery chilled me. “Let’s get you home, Mrs. Abbot.”

“Not yet. I want you to see.” She seethed and brandished a Geiger counter probe over her sister’s grave. “Jinny took sick. Strange. Her jaws done crumbled. Died like the other girls at her factory. The doctors made lame excuses. Damned liars is what they was.” The machine sputtered. “That sound like Diphtheria to you?”

*

It’s a long read, but if you want to know more of the story

CLICK HERE

ELEGY

Published September 16, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to St. Petersburg, Russia.

There’s an abundance of both street view and photo spheres in this beautiful city. Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you like for your post.

Your job is to write a 150-word (or less) story about this week’s chosen location. Where will you take your readers? You’re invited to join the talented writers of Pegman this week in St. Petersburg, Russia.

To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to Karen Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for facilitating this interesting and unique challenge.

As you may already know, I’m currently working on getting my fourth book A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY ready for publication. It will be a collection of illustrations and excerpts depicting characters and scenes from my novel trilogy. These excerpts seem to lend themselves to 100-150 word flashes. This week’s location was the perfect opportunity. Thank you for your indulgence and your help. 😉

St. Petersburg Philharmonic

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 149

ELEGY

With the unpleasant task of delivering bad news to a dear friend and former patient behind him, Dr. Nikolai Derevenko settled back for the evening. In an attempt to cheer himself, he picked up his flute from the table, brought it to his lips and played a Bach sonata. Usually the music would lift his spirits, but tonight it only intensified his loneliness as he reflected on his life, beginning with the day he informed his father he had chosen to go to medical school.

Sergei Derevenko, a prominent violinist in the St. Petersburg Philharmonic, eyed Nikolai with a mixture of anger and hurt.

“You’d rather slice people open and wallow in their blood and bile than delight thousands of patrons with your talent? I don’t understand you, Kolyah.”

“You never have. Why start now?”

“But how can you abandon your dreams?”

“Don’t you mean your dreams, Tatko?”

For your listening pleasure.

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Nikolai “Kolyah” Derevenko © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sergei Derevenko © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

CAST FROM HER FATHER’S HOUSE

Published May 15, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Cirque de Navacelles, France. This week’s location was suggested by JS Brand.

Many thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this unique challenge.

Feel free to stroll around using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

This challenge has become a favorite of mine and I couldn’t bear to miss it this week. This weekend has been an incredibly busy one. And as I’m working toward Book Four of my trilogy (coffee table companion book of illustrations and character studies), I hope you’ll forgive my posting an excerpt from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME.

While the photo I chose is in Cirque de Navacelles, my story is not.

Genre: Novel Excerpt

Word Count: 149

CAST FROM HER FATHER’S HOUSE

Rocks, frozen grass and thorns stabbed the soles of her bare feet. There had been no time for shoes, no time to dress.

Who would pray for their souls? Who would remember David, the artist or Mendel, the poet or Mama or Papa? She forced her heavy mouth to shape the Hebrew prayer—Kaddish—prayer for the dead and prayer for the bereft.

“‘Magnified and sanctified is your great Name…’”

Havah Cohen detested its beauty. Her hands, held over her ears, could not blot out the anguished cries of friends and neighbors, fast becoming memories.

“‘…in the world which you have created…’”

Thorns grabbed at her nightgown and she fought to ignore the fire in her lungs. “‘…according to Your will.’”

Run.

Brambles ripped into her flesh.

Run.

The muscles of her legs burned.

Don’t stop. Run.

“‘Let His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.’”

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

5 May 2017

Published May 3, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Like us on Facebook

Our Mantra

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

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

get the InLinkz code

FOUNT OF LIFE

“Andrea should know the truth,” said Myron. “May her father’s memory be blessed.”

“The truth is she’s an American citizen now.” Cerulean eyes brimming, Gabrielle stroked her slumbering daughter’s golden curls. “Forget her father. Forget France.”

Myron embraced his bride and drank in her fragrance. “Your survival is miracle.”

“A ‘miracle’ based on lies—forged papers and a fiancé in the Wermacht. Could’ve fooled Himmler himself.” She sniffed. “I should’ve died with my brunette sisters at Auschwitz.”

Myron’s breath caught in his throat. “Fiancé?”

“The truth is my Albrecht loved me no matter what. I…willingly gave birth to his Lebensborn.”

*

To know more click here!

SHIKAKO

Published April 29, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman visits Chicago, Illinois.

Feel free to stroll around using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

They say location is everything. Many thanks to Karen Rawson and her highly significant other, J Hardy Carroll for hosting and sharing a new location to challenge us every week.

Chicago River

Some reading might remember this story from Friday Fictioneers two years ago. I took the liberty of revisiting and adding fifty words to it.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

SHIKAKO

“Place Where the Skunk Weed Grows”

Catherine DuSable walked along the shore of the Eschikagou while her beloved Jean-Baptiste slept. Today a steady stream of customers had come to their trading post to buy and sell. Usually she enjoyed the stories they shared.

One trapper eyed her. “What you want for that fine squaw, Monsieur DuSable?”

“My wife is not for sale.”

She raised her hands to the sky and danced beside the waters, shaking off the trapper’s leering image.

“Mama, I can’t sleep.”

She turned to see Susannah whose tight black curls and dark skin glowed in the moonlight. So like her father. Catherine scooped the child into her arms.

“When I was little I prayed to Kichi Muhnido, the Great Spirit, for peaceful dreams.”

“You mean St. Raphael. Papa says…”

“For him I am Catholic, but in my heart of hearts I will always be Kitihawa, of the Bodéwadmi, keepers of the sacred fire.

Click Here for a bit of Background

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY

Published April 17, 2017 by rochellewisoff

“Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.”

~~Henry Ward Beecher

Last November I was asked by an LA Talk radio host, Jim Christina which I preferred–writing or painting. I had to think about it for a moment for I consider both of them to be facets of creating art. With one I paint pictures with words, the other with pencil and paint.

To listen to the interview which I enjoyed so much click HERE

My next book will be out sometime next year and will be the companion to the HAVAH GITTERMAN SAGA, filled with illustrations and captions for those who’d rather look at the pictures. 😉 Of course, my preference is that one would enjoy reading the novels first.

In any event, this month marks a milestone for me. Nineteen pieces of my artwork, some illustrations for the upcoming book, are on display at the Colbern Road branch of the Mid-Continent Public Library in Lee’s Summit, Missouri.

1000 NE Colbern Road
Lee’s Summit, MO 64086
Phone: 816.525.9924
Mon. – Thur. 9 – 9, Fri. 9 – 6, Sat. 9 – 5
Branch Manager: Seth Moses

My thanks for the invitation go to:

Morgan Daigneault

Access Specialist II

Colbern Road Branch

mdaigneault@mymcpl.org

***

I’m somewhat late in posting this, but can only excuse myself by saying that I was waiting to gather all of my photos. I hope you enjoy the following photos, or, even better, drop into the library. While you’re there feel free to request my books. 😉

LORD OF ALL BEASTS

Published March 20, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman takes us to Kampala, Uganda .

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Many thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson for hosting this challenge that I can’t seem to resist.

Due to another insanely busy weekend and no extra head space, I’m a bit late for the party. This was a learning experience for me.

My prompt selection from the Pegman Buffet

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

LORD OF ALL BEASTS

Assa handed the young woman a package filled with herbs. “Put these in your tea and, in less than a year, you will hold your little one in your arms, Dembe.”

Dembe’s full lips spread into a smile and her dark cheeks shone with tears. “Thank you, I hope he will be a strong, handsome boy like yours, Mrs. Dada.”

“Call me Mzazi, for I am not longer a wife, only a mother.”

Gazing out the window, Assa watched her ten-year-old son trudge up the dusty road. His slow pace and stooped shoulders told her he was weary from a day of working in the fields. This would not be so had Andreas not cast them out, swearing the child was not his. Her anger burned white-hot.

“Jambo, Miss Dembe.” He bowed as he entered the house.

Hugging her package to her chest, Dembe nodded. “Jambo yourself, Bwana Idi Amin.”

.

24 February 2017

Published February 22, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Phriday Phictioneers Phone

Like us on Facebook

Our Mantra

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.

Please be considerate and try to keep your stories at 100 words. Thank you.

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

A tweaked excerpt from my first novel PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME.

Word Count: 100

CHARNEL HOUSE

Havah gazed out the window. Snowflakes like milk-white dove wings glimmered past the streetlamp and floated to the sidewalk.

“Have you ever seen anything more beautiful, Arel?”

“We had snow in the old country. It’s all the same.”

She grasped Arel’s hand and held it to her belly. Their unborn child kicked against his palm with such force Havah flinched. Brushing her lips across her husband’s disfigured cheek she fought the stone forming in her throat. One by one, faces of those who had perished before her eyes drifted through her memory.

“No, Arel, nothing will ever be the same.”

***

*Reviews do help sell books. If you’ve read any of the three, would you do this author a favor and leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads or both? Thank you.

Look who I visited with at the Ozarks Writers League Conference.

Russell Gayer and the Purple Obsessed Princess

27 January 2017

Published January 25, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Note: You can call me crabby or controlling if you like, but…over the past few weeks some writers are going way over the word limit. No one will be kicked out for doing so, but the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. While I don’t take issue with a word or two over, last week one of them went over 200 words.

Like us on Facebook

Our Mantra

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.

Think you’ve seen this photo before? You have. It’s been pointed out that I posted this prompt in February. 😯 A repost was unintentional, but is what it is. If you have a story for it you were happy with, feel free to use it. 😉 Thank you Dawn and Suzanne for pointing it out. This is a first. What was I thinking?

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

Not exactly a flash fiction and not exactly an excerpt. Here’s a scene from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN.

OLIVE BRANCH

Nikolai Derevenko and his father had hardly spoken in twenty years so Sergei’s sudden appearance in Kansas City for his grandson’s graduation mystified him.

Sergei rotated the crank on the front of the car, starting the motor, and climbed into the driver’s seat. “It’s a Ford. Almost new—Model N, made in 1906,” he shouted over the clatter. “My gift. Tomorrow you learn to drive it.”

Nikolai scowled. “Thanks, but no thanks. God gave us legs and there are streetcars. With all of your frivolous spending you won’t have enough for your fare back to Russia.”

“I’m not going back.”

*

Vasily Derevenko © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

***

If you’ve made it this far down the page I hope you’ll take the time to watch the short video. Perhaps this is the reason I’ve been impressed of late to write so many Holocaust themed stories. I plan to post my picture on Twitter and Facebook. When push comes to shove there is one race…THE HUMAN RACE #WeRemember

POSTAGE DUE

Published December 18, 2016 by rochellewisoff

Bonaparte, IA Post Office

What Pegman Saw is a new Flash Fiction challenge utilizing Google Maps by K Rawson. The assignment is to write a story –150 words or less– based upon the location provided. Use the photo or follow the Google Maps link and take your own street view tour.

Here is this week’s location.

I’m stepping out of my Friday Fictioneers comfort zone this week. Having more than 100 words to play with was actually something of a luxury.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 149

POSTAGE DUE

“Didja check the return address?” asked Milly.

Charlie, the postmaster, pushed back his cap and scratched his head. “Ain’t got one. Jest addressed to you and James.” He unfolded a rumpled note. “It says, ‘December 20, 1914. Keep it warm and dry. Merry Christmas.’ It’s postmarked Pleasantville, Iowa. You know anyone there?”

“We went through there last January.” The vision of a young couple popped into her mind. “Grace and Elliott Tucker. She couldn’t’a been more’n fifteen. They put us up for a few days when one of our horses went lame. Nice folks. I hope they’re well.”

“Afraid Mr. Tucker done got his-self killed. Struck by lightning.” Charlie handed her an obituary included with the note. “You gonna accept the package?”

Milly lifted the month old infant from the mailing pouch, breathed in his sweetness and kissed his round cheek. “In time for Christmas dinner. Welcome home, Noel.”