All posts tagged Racism

2 June 2017

Published May 31, 2017 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.



Please be considerate and keep your flash fiction to 100 words. Thank you. 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100


           “Love that forgives is our theme,” said Carole.

            Addie, tall for fourteen, Denise, the dress-up princess, Cynthia, and Carole, the Girl Scout who had earned every known badge, prepared for the youth service. I envied them as they tied each other’s sashes. I was only four, too young to participate.

            Cynthia’s dark eyes sparkled. “How many times should we forgive?”

            Her smile illuminating the Birmingham church basement, Addie, winked at me. “Seventy times seven.”  

            Moments later, the Grand Dragon spewed fire and brimstone. Time halted at 10:22 that September Sunday morning in 1963. Eternity claimed four angels.  

            I cannot forgive.




“I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

10 April 2015

Published April 8, 2015 by rochellewisoff

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 The following PHOTO is the PROMPT. Where does your mind travel? Take us there in a hundred words or less. 

My story follows the prompt and the link frog. I welcome honest comments and crit.


Dear Friday Fictioneers,

Some of you may have noticed a lack of my comments and replies last week. My editor and I have been up to our eyeballs in novel edits. I hope to catch up soon. Thank you for your patience and understanding. 

A heartfelt thanks to my editor and friend for sacrificing his time to help me untwist, un-hyphenate and smooth out the rough edges of the soon-to-be published PLEASE SAY KADDISH FOR ME. 




PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

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Gere: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100


My dearest Zhilan,

            This night my thoughts turn toward home and you. I cherish the times we invited the moon to join us as we shared rice wine. Remember how we dreamed I would find Gold Mountain?

            Now my journey is hard and my days are filled with the pickaxe and train tracks. Never will I see you again, my fragrant orchid, nor our precious son…


            “Fever musta took him.” Levi knelt beside the body and pried a piece of crumpled paper from its stiff hand. “Whatcha make a this?”

            Orville squinted and shrugged. “Jest some ignorant Chinee scribbles.”









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