It’s my birthday

All posts tagged It’s my birthday


Published September 4, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Poisson-Blanc, Quebec, Canada.

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.

This week Karen posted the prompt early. And still I’m late. But that depends on your definition of late. 😉 On the other hand, the timing just might be deliberate.  And…while my prompt is from Poisson-Blanc, my story veers far afield and very much about the water. Thanks as always to Karen Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for facilitating this prompt. Fun stuff. Love the extra words and a different challenge. 

Genre: Historical Faction

Word Count: 150


            “It’s okay, sweetheart.” Mary knelt beside her dripping daughter. “There’ll be other swim meets.”

            “But I told everybody I was going to win and I came in last.”

            “It’s only your first race.” Richard swept the child into his arms. “You’re only six years old, baby. Someday you’ll have a mantel full of trophies.”

            “Really, Daddy?”

            “Or my name isn’t Dick Chadwick.”

            Five years later, Florence Chadwick won the silver cup in a race across San Diego Bay, the first of many awards.

          In the 1950’s she set her goggled sights on the English Channel, ultimately swimming it four times in both directions.

          On September 4, 1953, she beat the women’s and men’s records, swimming from Dover to Wissant in 14 hours and 42 minutes.

          On that same Friday, across the pond, in Kansas City, Missouri, Bob and Evalyne Wisoff greeted their own little 6 lb. white fish, Rochelle Elise.

In my happy place.


Florence Chadwick

4 September 2015

Published September 2, 2015 by rochellewisoff

Snorkeling in St. Thomas

Undersea St. Thomas 4 Meme

FF copyright banner final

The following photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Tell me in a hundred words or less what story this tells you. 

Note: There were quite a few who went over 100 words last week and felt that they couldn’t cut the excess without sacrificing their stories. I challenged one writer to cut 20 words and he rose to the occasion with skill. Trust me, it can be done. 

PHOTO PROMPT - © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Histrionic Fiction

Word Count: 100


            Warmed by the breeze wafting through the open kitchen window, Evalyne read the Kansas City Star headline.

            “Florence Chadwick swam the English Channel Friday,” she said and turned from the sports page to the crossword puzzle.

            “The same day as our little girl’s birth,” said Bob. “Maybe she’ll beat Miss Chadwick’s record someday.”  

            “One across—six-letter word for storyteller—author. One down—six-letter word for painter—artist. She might be one of those.”  

            The baby cried. Bob jumped up, hurried to the next room and returned with their daughter in his arms.

            “The future’s wide open for our Princess Rochelle.”


.Future Badass

No plans for the English Channel

No plans for the English Channel

Best two out of three

Best two out of three.


Click to learn more about Florence Chadwick

chadwick, florence 003_ibe_165x237

6 September 2013

Published September 4, 2013 by rochellewisoff


As always, writers are encouraged to be as innovative as possible with the prompt and 100 word constraints. 

Henry David Thoreau said it best.

“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”


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


Make every word count.


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  • MAKE SURE YOUR LINK IS SPECIFIC TO YOUR FLASH. (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 I can delete the wrong link for you).
  • While our name implies “fiction only” it’s perfectly Kosher to write a non-fiction piece as long as it meets the challenge of being a complete story in 100 words. 
    • REMINDER: This page is “FRIDAY FICTIONEERS CENTRAL” and is NOT the place to promote political or religious views. Also, you are responsible for the content of your story and policing comments on your blog. You have the right to delete any you consider offensive.

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  • Shalom,



Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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In celebration of my big birthday which is happening as this page goes live, I chose one of my own photos. Lots to see and write about here. My response time will probably be pretty slow this week since I’ll be on vacation (on holiday for all our UK friends 😉 ). Also  Yom Huledet Samayach to Randy Mazie who shares the same birthday. 

On Monday, 20 May 1957, an F5 tornado leveled Ruskin Heights, a suburb of Kansas City, MO. Thankfully our subdivision, although fairly close,  was not effected. However, impressions of the day still remain.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100


            One Monday afternoon in 1957, four-and-a-half-year-old Glinda filled glass creamers in Daddy’s restaurant. If there were enough, Mommy let her save one for Spike.

            A customer pointed to the window. “Twister weather.”

            Outside the sky had turned greenish-yellow.

            “Take cover!” cried the voice on the radio. “Touch-down. Ruskin Heights.”

             “Daddy… Spike?”

              Later he turned into their debris-strewn, houseless driveway. Mommy shook her head. “Poor Spike, I’m afraid he’s…”

            “No!” Glinda sprang from the car, ran to a pile, dropped down and held out the creamer. “Here kitty.”

            With a loud meow, Spike peeked out, purred and hungrily lapped the cream.  

Ruskin Heights Kitty

old creamerI really did fill creamers at my dad’s restaurant “Bob’s Place”. This may be the pitcher I used.  


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