Weekend Writing Prompt – Mercurial

Published June 1, 2019 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. To join leave your link in Sammi’s comment section.

After forty-five years I miss your mercurial personality. Remember our lively battles of wits, Jerry—all those ornery barbs we lobbed back and forth? I wish you were still here so I could say them all over again.

*My husband’s brother, Jerry, died in a car accident when he was in the Air Force, stationed in Turkey in 1974. He was one of the funniest, sharpest people I have ever known.

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

Published March 4, 2018 by rochellewisoff

There is a road some fifty-three miles NNE of New York City with a strange reputation. This week, Pegman has stranded you there.Volumes have been written about Clinton Road in West Milford, NJ, but you only need to write 150 words. The only limit is your imagination.Feel free to capture your own streetview. If you’re not up to a weird tale, feel free to wander anywhere within the state of New Jersey for your story.Once your 150 words are polished, you can share with other contributors using the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge that gives me 50 more words to play with. 😉

While the photo below is taken from the Pegman Buffet, I must confess, despite the directives, I didn’t stay in New Jersey. I went to Rickey Road in Raytown, Missouri, where, as with Clinton Road, the stories abound.

Genre: Fictionalized Memoir

Word Count: 150

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

I looked forward to my troop’s wilderness excursions. Had it not been for scouting, I might never have seen the great outdoors beyond my backyard. My parents, while not religiously observant, adhered to the eleventh commandment—“Jews don’t camp.”

Overnights were the best. Following an afternoon of dodging poison ivy and climbing hills, we’d gather around the campfire. Our mouths and fingers gooey from roasted marshmallows, we topped off the day with ghost stories about the infamous and spooky Rickey Road.

“My uncle found a man’s head in the grass,” said Lucy in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooo,” we’d giggle. “Gross!”

Margo’s cheeks glowed in the blaze. “It opened its eyes and screamed, ‘I want my golden arm!’”

Our childish imaginations kicked into overdrive. Each storyteller sought to outdo the last.

Back home in my own bed, I wouldn’t sleep for a month without a nightlight.

I miss those good times.

*********

Troop 499-Can you find me?

14 April 2017

Published April 12, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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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 © Dale Rogerson

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

Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

HAND-TOSSED

Monticello, a town in Upstate New York, is where we spent the summer of 1965, the last summer of my childhood, with my aunt and uncle. Having never traveled far from Kansas City, this was the adventure of my eleven-going-on-twelve-year-old lifetime.

Unlike KC, restaurants like the pizzeria where I had my first ever, true pizza, stayed open all night.

My brother handed me the red pepper. “Try this.”

Aunt Lu scowled. “Go easy, Rochelle.”

Did I listen?

Although the gooey cheese and sauce melted in my mouth, the pepper burned all the way down—and all the way back up.

21 October 2016

Published October 19, 2016 by rochellewisoff

ANNOUNCING GREAT NEWS!!!

Alicia Jamtaas has been published! Her short story, “A Private Death” has been included in the fall issue of “Sweet Tree Review.” Way to go Alicia!

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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 © Claire Fuller

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Genre: Anecdote

Word Count: 100

PENNY-ANTE

Sunday was “Fan Tan” night when I was eight. My family played the card game for pennies.

“Where’s that seven of hearts?” Dad tossed a copper on the table with mock disgust. “Shelly? You only have one card left?”

“The little brat’s got it,” said my fourteen-year-old brother pitching his coin.

I batted my eyelashes. “Why, Jeffrey, whatever do you mean?” With a dramatic flourish, I laid down the seven. “I win!”

It’s not the victories I remember as much as the unprecedented peace between my parents, my father’s relentless teasing, and laughing so hard I nearly wet my pants.

.

14 October 2016

Published October 12, 2016 by rochellewisoff

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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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Genre: Hysterical Faction

Word count: 100

For a few of us, Wednesday, 12 October 2016, is not only Friday Fictioneers but also Yom Kippur, the highest of Jewish holy days. For that reason, I’ve taken the liberty of rerunning the following story from April 3, 2013. A handful of you might remember the prompt and even have a story you want to repeat.

Click Here to see the original post.

The Ashamnu is a traditional prayer of repentance recited on Yom Kippur, the Jewish highest of holy days or day of atonement. The word “ah-SHAM-nu” means we are guilty or we have sinned.

ASHAMNU

Rhoda cast furtive glances in all directions, inhaled throat-burning smoke, held it, and then exhaled, handing the joint to Marcus.

“Don’t be so paranoid.” His bloodshot eyes glittered.

Candles illuminated the corners of his darkened bedroom. In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida blared from the stereo and patchouli incense tickled her nose.

After they’d downed an entire bag of chips, Marcus plopped his yarmulke on his head.

“So much for fasting. Let’s get back before they miss us.”

Side-by-side they sneaked into the synagogue and giggled through repentance prayers.

Every year afterward, when Rhoda dutifully attended services, she chuckled as she recalled the “High” Holiday.

.

Original Artwork from 1971 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

15 March 2013

Published March 13, 2013 by rochellewisoff

LOOKING FOR FRIDAY FICTIONEERS? YOU FOUND US!

I dare you to write more than you see with your eyes. I double dog dare you!

******

March Birthdays Among Us (That I know about)

Bill “Zed Man” Webb – March 1

Janet “Sustainabilitea” Webb – March 15

If there are more out there let me know.

******

THE CHALLENGE:

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

THE KEY:

Make every word count.

THE RULES:

Copy your URL to the Linkz collection. You’ll find the tab following the photo prompt. It’s the little white box to the left with the blue froggy guy. Click on it and follow directions. This is the best way to get the most reads and comments.
MAKE SURE YOUR LINK IS SPECIFIC TO YOUR FLASH FICTION. (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 Runtshell@aol.com. I can delete the wrong link for you).Thanks to Blogspot bloggers for disabling their CAPTCHAs. (Example below)
Make note in your blog if you’d prefer not to have constructive criticism.
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.

**Please exercise DISCRETION when commenting on a story! Be RESPECTFUL.**

Should someone have severe or hostile differences of opinion with another person it’s my hope that the involved parties would settle their disputes in private.

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

🙂 My story will follow the prompt for those who might be distracted by reading a story before writing their own . I enjoy your comments.

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Copyright – Lora Mitchell

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Genre:-Autobiography

Word Count – 100

END OF AN ERA, SEPTEMBER 24, 1960

Just the right balance of tin foil on rabbit ears chased away the ghosts and the black and white Zenith’s fifteen- inch picture wouldn’t flip during my favorite show.

“Hey, kids. What time is it?”

“It’s Howdy Doody time!”

Mute clown Clarabell chased Buffalo Bob with a seltzer bottle. Antics of the puppet population of Doodyville delighted me.

One horrible Saturday Howdy said, “There’s no more show. It’s time to go.”

Then Clarabell spoke for the first time.

“Goodbye, kids.”

I sobbed, inconsolable, crushed by my first real loss in seven years. Even now the memory brings me to tears.

“Epilogue”