27 December 2024

Published December 25, 2024 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 © Jennifer Pendergast

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Happy holidays to all who celebrate at this time of the year! In light of that and the fact that I’ve been battling some kind of sinus crud, today’s story is a rerun. However, the prompt is new. 😉

Genre: Pure Fiction
Word Count: 100

SUBJECT TO CHANGE

Ted set up a row of chairs in the reception hall. Jessica plopped down on one and pouted. “This is all-kinds-of wrong.”
“Hey sis, ever hear of John Cram?”
“No.”
“Lemme educate you. John Cram patented the folding chair in 1855. Then in 1947 Fred Arnold created the first aluminum one and by 1957 his company was manufacturing—”
“Ooh, cram your history, Mr. Wikipedia.” Jessica gritted her teeth. Tears stung her eyes. “It’s just not fair.”
Ted hugged her. “You’re going to be a gorgeous bride tomorrow.”
“What about my garden wedding? It’s not supposed to snow in May!

We celebrate both holidays in our house! Happy Merry from us to you!

In Loving Memory of John Scheuch.

1 March 2024

Published February 28, 2024 by rochellewisoff

*Note: The frog is no longer just blue. 😉 Click on the caption under the Santa frog. Glad you can join us!

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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 © Fleur Lind

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I admit, my story’s connection to the prompt is tenuous at best. But it’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Genre: Pure Non-Fiction
Word Count: 100

YES VIRGINIA, THERE IS A SANTA CLAUS

The minister summed it up as she delivered his eulogy with, “This sucks.”

I couldn’t agree more. Santa Claus isn’t supposed to die.

That’s who my friend and high school classmate was to the hundreds of children he enthralled with his mellifluous, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Two years ago in a cheerful conversation, he told me he’d been diagnosed with cancer, but he and his doctor were optimistic. Remission was almost a certainty.

Then a couple of months ago, I received that dreaded phone call from him. “I’m calling a few people…”

“Farewell, John. You made me believe in Santa Claus.”

Taken four years ago. He was coming from one of his housecalls.

John was Santa all year round.

PRELUDE TO SUCCESS

Published December 23, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Ho Ho Ho! This week Pegman takes us to the town of North Pole, Alaska in the USA.

Though it appears Santa’s workshop is near, you’re not obligated to write a Christmas-themed story or poem. The spirit of Pegman is to write 150 words inspired by your own tour of the location. Wander around and chose your own screenshot, if you like.

Once you’ve created your story, add it to the InLinkz using the button below. Sharing, reading, and commenting on other stories is part of the fun.

Many thanks and Merry Christmas to Karen and Josh who facilitate this challenge.

North Pole, Alaska

This week I took a five-year-old Friday Fictioneers story out of mothballs, expanded it and made a few changes. Those 50 extra words can be a delightful game changer. 😀

Genre: Holiday Spirit

Word Count: 150

Dedicated to my friend, John Schuech. If Santa Claus does exist, it’s in this man’s huge heart. ❤

PRELUDE TO SUCCESS

“Failure.”

Isn’t that what Tiana said when she’d flung her clothes into a suitcase? “I can’t take any more. Call me if you ever get your act together.”

Since he’d come back from Iraq, Emmet had been plagued with nightmares and had made four suicide attempts. He’d lost three jobs this year alone.

“Try it,” said his buddy John. “It’ll do wonders for you.”

Combing his prematurely white hair, he glared at his weary bearded reflection. He couldn’t blow this gig.

***

His footsteps echoed down the sterile hallway. How long had he spent in this place being stitched back together?

Stopping at room 223, he pushed open the door and tiptoed to the bed. Feeding tubes and IV’s snaked around the slumbering child.