30 November 2012

Published November 28, 2012 by rochellewisoff

Ready or not, here it comes the holiday season is upon us and I’m not at all prepared. On the upside this is my sixth week as facilitator for this wonderful group of blogging authors.

As this page goes live it’s November 28, the dawn of my 41st wedding anniversary. (No. This isn’t this week’s photo prompt 😉 )

Now that you’ve oo’d and ah’d over my vintage wedding picture here are the “rules”:

Depending on your preference, leave your blog link in the comment section or use the linkz tool (or both ;)). My story follows for those who’d rather not read it before writing their own.
Please make sure your link works. If 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).
If your blog requires multiple steps for visitors to leave comments, see if you can simplify it. Please, for the sake or our writerly nerves, disable CAPTCHA –that wavy line of unreadable letters and numbers. It’s frustrating to have to leave a DNA sample, your blood type and your shoe size just to make a comment. (So I exaggerate. But hopefully you get the picture).
Challenge yourself to keep stories to 100 words. (There’s no penalty for going over or under).
Make note in your blog if you’d prefer not to have constructive criticism.
Be kind in your comments to others. Exercise discretion.
ABOVE ALL–HAVE FUN
Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Many thanks for all the well wishing on our anniversary. As always, Jan sent roses to the restaurant. I have to kvell. My husband’s an incurable romantic and hasn’t missed a November 28th in all these years.

Now without further adieu, here’s my story.

LAYAWAY

“One more cheesy rendition of Jingle Bells and I’m outta here.”

After seven hours of checking out surly customers on swollen feet Carla’s holiday spirit reached its lowest ebb. As she slammed her register drawer a burst of warm fluid soaked her pants.

An associate helped her to a pallet on the dressing room floor. Another called 911.

A hard contraction sent pain-waves through her spine. The paramedic spread her legs and shoved his hand between them.

“Ten centimeters.”

Carla pushed.

“It’s a boy!”

The overhead speakers blared with Burl Ives singing.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells. Jingle all the way…”

23 November 2012

Published November 21, 2012 by rochellewisoff

I am thankful to be a part of this awesome global family called Friday Fictioneers.

Writers:

Depending on your preference, leave your blog link in the comment section or use the linkz tool (or both ;)). My story follows for those who’d rather not read it before writing their own.
Please make sure your link works. There were a couple last week that didn’t. If 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).
If your blog requires multiple steps for visitors to leave comments, see if you can simplify it. If you can disable CAPTCHA –that wavy line of unreadable letters and numbers– please for the sake of our writerly nerves, disable it. It’s frustrating to have to leave a DNA sample, your blood type and your shoe size just to make a comment. (So I exaggerate. But hopefully you get the picture).
Challenge yourself to keep stories to 100 words. (There’s no penalty for going over or under).
Make note in your blog if you’d prefer not to have constructive criticism.
Be kind in your comments to others.
ABOVE ALL–HAVE FUN!
Copyright-Joyce Johnson

*Note-I know some view this link tool as something of a pain, but the reality is that you’ll garner more reads and comments if you leave your link here. Click the blue guy and follow the instructions. Please make sure you’ve entered your link correctly.

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And now…

Following a wrestling match…

Is my story.

FACE TO FACE

“It was a dark and stormy night.”

“Seriously?” Tad peered over his book.

“It worked for Snoopy.” Jaycee slammed her finger against the backspace key and glared at the professor’s photo prompt. “I’m blank.”

“It’s only a hundred words. Write what you know.”

“I know nothing.”

“Ha! You’ve got plenty floating around in that pea brain of yours.”

“Like alphabet soup.”

“Stir it.”

Who knew a simple creative writing class would be filled with so many trapdoors? The sculpted face in the picture mocked her with its sideways grin.

Fingers trembling she typed, “The Me Nobody Wants to Know.”

FAMILY REUNIONS

Published November 18, 2012 by rochellewisoff

From left to right: Beth Carter, Jan Marler Morrill, Shirley McCann, Me, Madison Woods, Kent Bonham.

This weekend I attended the Ozarks Writers League, OWL for short, in Branson MO. There I had the pleasure of meeting some of our Fictioneers, including our founder Madison Woods. However I did miss Russell Gayer and Keli Wright who are both FF’rs and OWL members. (Congrats to both on being contest winners.)

Last week Ted Strutz took a trip to Hawaii and met Doug MacIlroy.

Both visits, one personal and one vicarious, thrill me. It makes me feel connected. I dream of a larger meeting one day, but for now we have the internet and shared stories.

Doug and Ted’s Most Excellent Adventure

16 November 2012

Published November 14, 2012 by rochellewisoff

Every Friday authors from around the world gather here to share their 100-words based on the photo prompt and offer constructive crit and encouragement to each other. This creates a wonderful opportunity for free reading of very fresh fiction! Readers are encouraged to comment as well.

Writers:

Depending on your preference, leave your blog link in the comment section or use the linkz tool (or both ;)). My story follows for those who’d rather not read it before writing their own.
Please make sure your link works. There were a couple last week that didn’t. If 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 your blog requires multiple steps for visitors to leave comments, see if you can simplify it. If you can disable CAPTCHA –that wavy line of unreadable letters and numbers– please for the sake of our writerly nerves, disable it. It’s frustrating to have to leave a DNA sample, your blood type and your shoe size just to make a comment. (So I exaggerate. But hopefully you get the picture).
Challenge yourself to keep stories to 100 words. (There’s no penalty for going over or under).

*********

HAPPY NOVEMBER BIRTHDAYS TO FICTIONEERS:

Lora Mitchell – 13

Charles Williams – 14

Madison Woods – 15

Russell Gayer – 16

(If I missed you let me know. ;))

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

THIS WEEK’S PHOTO PROMPT

: Copyright-Sean Fallon

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***********

Thanks to Sean Fallon for his intriguing photo. This particular song served as an inspiration and springboard to:

A WELL-ORDERED LIFE

Prototypical milquetoast, Benjamin Parker wore bow ties and kept to himself.

Three days of no-call, no-show to work passed before anyone missed him enough to call 911.

When we broke into his immaculate apartment we found his pajama-clad body in bed. No sign of foul play.

Jars filled with things like batteries, safety pins, wine corks and matchbooks lined cabinets and counter-tops.

“Quite the collector. Wonder if he jarred his tighty whities.” I flung open the closet door and choked. “What the—?”

In single file on the top shelf human heads floated in name-tagged gallon jars.

.

9 November 2012

Published November 7, 2012 by rochellewisoff

A Friday Fictioneers’ Welcome to

SEBASTIAN JOSHUA PENDERGAST

Born 4 November 2012

to our own Elmowrites -Jen

THAT’S SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT!

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

Now to the business at hand. If this is your first go at Friday Fictioneers, here’s how it works:

Every Friday authors from around the world gather here to share their 100-words and offer constructive crit and encouragement to each other. This creates a wonderful opportunity for free reading of very fresh fiction! Readers are encouraged to comment as well.

Writers:

Depending on your preference, leave your blog link in the comment section or use the linkz tool (or both ;)). My story follows for those who’d rather not read it before writing their own.
Please make sure your link works. There were a couple last week that didn’t. If 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 your blog requires multiple steps for visitors to leave comments, see if you can simplify it. If you can disable CAPTCHA –that wavy line of unreadable letters and numbers– please for the sake of our writerly nerves, disable it. It’s frustrating to have to leave a DNA sample, your blood type and your shoe size just to make a comment. (So I exaggerate. But hopefully you get the picture).
Challenge yourself to keep stories to 100 words. (There’s no penalty for going over or under).
Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

get the InLinkz code

THE ICE QUEEN

In Rowena’s thirty-eighth year the flashbacks started. One by one, memories from her childhood surfaced like debris in a whirlpool. Among them were the uncle who molested her and the neighbor who raped her then threatened her with worse if she told. Both happened before her twelfth birthday.

To punish her body for its betrayal, she starved it. Reduced to bone and thinning skin, her defense against pain became her prison.

“What are you feeling?” asked her therapist.

“Nothing.”

“Does it help?” He pointed to her scarred arms.

“No.”

“Do you really want to die, Rowena?”

“I’m already there.”

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

Click the following link for song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWaJRlG1RQE&feature=related

FRIDAY’S BUS

Published October 18, 2012 by rochellewisoff

It’s with mixed emotions I post my story inspired by Ron Pruitt’s photo prompt. This is Madison’s last week as Friday Fictioneers leader and my last week as one just of the gang. She will be one tough act to follow. Click here for other FF stories. Enjoy!

My offering this week is a tribute to Madison and our diverse global community that I hope continues to grow and flourish.

*Note: I don’t think I can put the linkz tool on my blog without upgrading. So it looks like we’ll be back to posting our blog addresses here and in our comments. I’m open to any and all feedback or instruction on this.

****

copyright-Ron Pruitt

Apprehensions whelmed the new driver. How could she steer this behemoth? Her feet barely reached the gas pedal.

A lithe maiden with pointed ears and iridescent wings floated past her. Next was an imposing man whose black silk cape skimmed the floor. One by one, diverse passengers stowed their baggage and found their seats.

“Welcome,” said the last in line. “I’m Russell.”

Warmed by his congenial smile she tried not to stare at his plastic clown nose and grasped his offered hand.

Zzzzzzt! His joy buzzer sent shockwaves to her shoulder.

He chortled. “Are we there yet?”

EIRONEIA

Published October 11, 2012 by rochellewisoff

As I post my latest Friday Fictioneer’s story it’s Friday Eve. That’s Thursday in some parts of the world. For other stories from our growing global community click here. You’ll find a wealth of one hundred word stories inspired by this single photograph from Jan Morrill.

Summer 1969, an American sailor stationed in Greece, I went on leave to Santorini.

In Pyrgos, I met sable-eyed Melina.

We drank each other. Her fragrant breasts welcomed me home.

“Marry me,” I whispered.

“I can’t.”

After that I never saw her again.

Summer 2010, I returned to Pyrgos.

On the street I stopped a silver-haired woman. “Melina Dimitri? Do you know her?”

“Why?”

“I love her.”

“Impossible! She was my great-grandmother. Died in childbirth in 1846. Here she is with my great-grandfather.”

When the woman flipped out a daguerreotype I gasped at the youthful images of Melina and…me.

THE GIRL MOST LIKELY

Published October 5, 2012 by rochellewisoff

This week’s Friday Fictioneers picture is from Raina Ng. It looks like a nice place to come home to. So if you’re looking for gut wrenching and thought provoking look to my friend Doug MacIlroy. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Coffee and baking cookie aromas filled Gail’s kitchen. She wiped dust from a dog-eared yearbook, set it on the table and smiled at her high school chum. “So glad we found each other.”

“We were darling, weren’t we?” Brenda flipped through the faded pages. “You’ve done well for yourself, Miss Homecoming Queen. Nice home. Handsome husband.”

“Thirty-seven years next month.”

“Amazing.” Brenda pointed to a picture of a moon-faced boy with horn-rimmed glasses and buck teeth. “Hey remember him? What a geek! Wonder what ever happened to the little twerp.”

“I married him.”

THE CHAIRMAN’S SONG

Published September 28, 2012 by rochellewisoff

The lovely picture for Friday Fictioneers this week is from talented writer Sandra Crook. Here’s my offering for this week. Also, it would please this aspiring novelist if you’d also read my previous post. Comments welcome.

Once a month twelve-year-old, American born Su-Yin spent the day with her grandmother. Before each time she groaned and protested.

“Nai-Nai doesn’t have a computer or even a TV.”

“Or one of these.” Mom snatched her daughter’s iPod.

“Communist!”

Flushed, Mom murmured something in Chinese the girl didn’t understand.

Later, Su-Yin pouted in Nai-Nai’s garden and stirred her vegetable rice with chopsticks while she waited for her monthly portion of poetry and boredom.

Instead of ancient verse, Nai-Nai whispered, “When I was your age I watched communists behead my father and murder my brother by a thousand cuts.”

WRITER’S CATHARSIS

Published August 31, 2012 by rochellewisoff

This Week’s Friday Fictioneers photo is from Stacy Plowright. Thanks to Madison Woods for opening this forum to form a global community. Who knew?

Thanks for dropping by, Rochelle.

***

“To delight the angels she dances on clouds. Heaven is illuminated by her presence.”

“Clichés.” Luke spat in the sand. “Who really dances on clouds anyway?”

His poetic words touting faith and hope did little to convince himself. He flung his notebook to the ground. Thirteen years was not enough time to love.

Even though none had fallen, he tasted rain. Vaporous whorls and ridges imprinted the blackening sky.

He waded into the churning sea. There he waited for lightning to sear him until her voice whispered on the wind.

“Stay here, my love. Our boys still need you.”