9 July 2021

Published July 7, 2021 by rochellewisoff

For those who know our MIA FF’r Ted Strutz who suffered a stroke a while back, I wanted to share his progress.

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.

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A few might remember a longer version of this story I posted for “What Pegman Saw” in 2017. With the summer being as busy as it is, it seemed like a good time to share a rerun. 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100

COUNTRY ROADS

“My dearest Jimmy,

Remember 1971? The year we came back from Vietnam. John Denver must’ve written his hit with you in mind.

“‘Pineville, West Virginia,’ you whispered low and sweet. Your eyes shone like the stars over the Shenandoah River. You laughed. ‘Just a Podunk town in the middle of nowhere.’

Nonetheless, to you it was ’almost heaven’.”

Sharon tucked the note inside his guitar and leaned it against his headstone. “I kept my promise to meet you here, Jimmy.”

Forever she would carry his face in her heart and hear his last words, “Nurse, please don’t let me die.”

***

In this image provided by the U.S. Army, the 2nd Brigade was faced with a new problem at their Bien Hoa, Vietnam base: from Fort Rilay to Vietnam come the 93rd Evacuation Hospital complete with nurses on Dec. 19, 1965. The problem of getting a private shower for the girls fell to Company B 1st Engineer Battalion. In the interests of the health, welfare and cleanliness of the nurses, the men of Company B decided to give up their own air-conditioned shower. The dressing area of the shower was boarded up and the entrance-way closed off. An appropriate “Off Limits” sign was made and posted. (AP Photo/U.S. Army)

Weekend Writing Prompt – War Wound

Published May 9, 2020 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. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.

WAR WOUND

In research for a character in my novel-in-progress, I’ve watched some You Tube interviews with Vietnam veterans. Recently, one in particular captured my attention. The gentleman, who’s had a successful career as an actor since his discharge, spoke candidly of his deployment and subsequent wounding.

“Thirty years later, after bouts of alcoholism and depression I sought help for PTSD and found healing.”

He shrugged. “Thanks for your service? What does that mean? I get it. You mean well.” His voice caught in his throat and my breath caught in mine when he said, “I like best what we vets say to each other since we didn’t hear it when we came back, ‘Welcome home.’”

INSTINCT

Published October 13, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to the Arlington National Cemetery in Washington DC, USA.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the prompt. Feel free to use the location supplied above, our take your own tour of Washington D.C. via Google maps and find a view that inspires you.

You may write poetry, prose, essay, limerick, sonnet, or fiction of any flavor. Once your piece is polished, share it with others at the linkup below. Reading and commenting is part of the fun.

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this unique challenge. To join click the frog.

image-arlington_national_cemetery_public_domain-10944

This week I revisited and fleshed out a story I posted in Friday Fictioneers four years ago.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

INSTINCT

Six years my senior, my gentle brother was my hero. He was the valedictorian of his graduating class. Awarded a scholarship to Harvard, he owned the future.

I had just turned twelve when his draft notice came. Vietnam consumed every newscast. Mom was inconsolable.

The day he left to go overseas I clung to him and sobbed. “I’ll never see you again.”

“Duty calls, Sis.” He pinched my cheek and kissed my nose. “I’ll be back. You’ll see.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

***

Tonight we celebrate his sixty-fifth birthday. His hands tremble as he cuts the cake. The knife falls from his fingers and tears stream down his stubbled cheeks.

“I cut off their ears and hung them from a chain on my belt loop.” He swallows a pill with a swig of beer. “Thirty-six kills. God, I miss it.”

My brother did come back from Vietnam but he never returned.