What Pegman Saw

All posts tagged What Pegman Saw

THE GOLDEN LOTUS

Published February 16, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is in the Jaingxi province of China. There are a few more photosheres available than the last time I went searching in this area. Hopefully you can find something that inspires you. I had trouble getting to this area through the main Google maps, but you are free to try for yourself.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the prompt. Whether you write fiction, poetry, sonnet, limerick or essay is completely up to you. Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting is part of the fun!

Thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting this weekly cruise.

During China’s Song Dynasty (970 – 1260), seen as property,  a woman’s sole purpose was to please her husband.  Officially sanctioned, foot-binding became the essence of feminine beauty. The smaller a woman’s foot, the better her chances of marrying well. The practice continued into the 20th century until China came under Communist rule.

To learn more CLICK HERE

It’s always fun to take on oldie out of mothballs and give it a fresh look. I first posted a version of this story in January 2013 for Friday Fictioneers.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE GOLDEN LOTUS

Bones bound and crushed in childhood, Zhen Xi’s feet fit a man’s palm. Such prized feet represented wealth and social status. Although the pain was often unbearable, she enjoyed the attention she garnered from the young men.

            It came as no surprise when her youthful beauty caught wizened warlord Han Donhai’s eye.

            She begged her father. “Please don’t make me marry him. Chan Ho is my true love.”

            “We are poor. It is not for you to love.”

            Every night she endured beatings following Han Donhai’s inadequacy. She feared she would ultimately suffer the same fate as three past wives who died under his sword for their failure to conceive.   

            Seven months after the wedding, fireworks spangled the sky in celebration of Donhai’s nine pound heir.

            Hours later he wielded his blade over her head. “You faithless whore!”                  

            She smiled. Her child would live while her unbound spirit ran free.

PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES

Published February 10, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Karen has invited us to take a cruise to the British Virgin Islands for WHAT PEGMAN SAW. As I’ve been in quite the reflective mood lately, I’m sharing a memory. Here in the frozen Midwest the skies have been dreary and the roads icy. A trip to a tropical island is just the ticket for this sleety Sunday morning.

St. Thomas © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 150

St. Thomas © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTOGRAPHS AND MEMORIES

Lush hills and tree-studded mountains surround St. Thomas like an imperial crown. Is it any wonder my son and his bride fell in love with the area? They exchanged their vows there and invited their parents to share the honeymoon.

            Later, my son told me they had planned to have the ceremony on a mountaintop so his mother wouldn’t be tempted to swim away. Who would do something so utterly rude on such a grand occasion?

            However nothing compared to the thrill of snorkeling along the underwater nature trail in Magen’s Bay in St. Thomas or exploring Water Lemon Cay in St. John.

            I feasted my gaze on purple fan coral, yellow tangs and crimson starfish. As water takes on the shape of its container, I took on the shape of the water in an indescribable oneness. Unfettered by the mundane, I embraced the sea and it welcomed me home.

“When we’re in the water, we’re not of this world.”
……Gertrude Ederle

NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM?

Published December 30, 2018 by rochellewisoff

After being MIA from Pegman for a while, the muse struck. 😉 Now that the dust is settling a bit from the holidays. In any event, the Google trail took to an irresistible place in Zimbabwe History.  The year is 1894 and Zimbabwe was known as Rhodesia. The following year a small band of Jewish refugees would build a synagogue in Harare.

As always, thank yous to Karen and Josh for hosting. Follow the link below to read other stories or to add your own. Remember reciprocation is half the fun. 

 

Harare Synagogue

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM?

“An adventure he says,” whispered Fayga to her three-month-old Yankel. “Your papa is a meshuggeneh vants.”

            She missed the synagogue in Lithuania, with its beautiful woodwork and intricate carvings on the Holy Ark.

            More than anything, she missed her family. But, if she were back at home she would still miss them. Murdered. What difference did it make from where she mourned?

            Yankel sneezed and squirmed on her lap. She waved a fly away from his nose. “Such a shayna punim.

            The tent juddered. A warm breeze wafted over her as the cantor sang, “Here oh Israel, Adonoi our God, Adoni is one.”   

            “Don’t you see? We’re no longer safe here, my beloved?” He packed his books into a trunk next to her Sabbath candlesticks. “The Messiah will find us no matter where we go.”

            Who knew their journey would take them from Eastern Europe to Bulawayo in faraway Africa?  

*meshuggeneh vantz – crazy bedbug

*shayna punim – pretty face (It was one of my mother’s nicknames for me 🙂 )

 

 

R IS FOR ROCKET

Published October 14, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman goes to Roswell, New Mexico, USA.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by this week’s location. You can use the image supplied or you can visit Roswell yourself via Google Maps and find your own inspiration.

Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun.

In April my husband and I visited Roswell so I took the liberty of using my own photo. No matter what your take on aliens,Roswell is a major tourist trap. Kind of fun but next time I want to go to the Grand Canyon. 😉

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating the fun. 

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Questionable

Word Count: 150

R IS FOR ROCKET

My son tugs at my coat. “Mommy, can I get the green man souvenir?”

            His sister jumps up and down and squeals. “I want the stuffed alien so I could sleep with him. Say ‘yes’ pleeeeeeease, Mommeeee.”

            I shake my head and glare at my husband. “I can’t believe you talked me into coming to this tourist trap? You can’t walk five feet without running into another gift shop. And they all have the same pathetic junk.”

            Taking his wallet from his pocket, he hands the cashier just the right amount for the toys. “Aw, lighten up and have a little fun.” His eyes glow and spin.

            My daughter’s antennae poke out from under her wig. She cuddles her stuffed friend. “I’m sleepy. Can we go back to the hotel?”

            The teenage clerk gasps. “Y-you aren’t from around here, are you?”

            “Next year, Phlox,” I mutter, “we vacation on Gorgon.”

😎

😎

😎

Shmoozing with Aliens in Roswell

FLIGHT THROUGH HELL

Published September 30, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Pegman did not get enough of this lovely region of Europe, so this week Pegman heads a little further west to the Douro Valley of Portugal.

This week’s suggestion comes from the talented Lish over at Up From the Ashes. Be sure head over to her blog and enjoy not just this week’s story, but her excellent poetry and other entertaining stories.

Your mission on Pegman, as always, is to write up to 150 words inspired by the prompt. Feel free to use the image supplied above, or visit the Douro Valley yourself via Google maps and find your own street view or photo sphere for inspiration. Or better yet, visit it in person, and take the rest of us Peg-people with you!

Once your story/essay/poem is finished, share it with others using the link up below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

It has been a busy week and I really didn’t think I’d post a story this time. Once more, the Google trail and my muse conspired against my plans. And just when I think I’ve sussed out all “those stories,” another comes to light. 

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for keeping this challenge afloat.

Synagogue in Douro…yep, I found one.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

 

FLIGHT THROUGH HELL

Mue amigo, my position in the Portuguese consulate gives me the power to grant you and your wife and children visas,” said Aristides de Sousa Mendes, “and safety from the German Madman.”

            Rabbi Chaim Kruger twined the end of his beard around his index finger. “Can you do the same for my brothers and sisters stranded here on the streets of Bordeaux?”

            Tortured by his inability to grant his friend’s request and other personal issues, Sousa Mendes suffered a breakdown. Following a rapid recovery, he threw off the bedclothes and proclaimed, “From now on I’m giving everyone visas.”

            When faced with charges of “disobeying during higher service” by the Portuguese government in 1940 he responded. “I could not differentiate between nationalities as I was obeying the dictates of humanity.”

            In 1966, Sousa Mendes became the first diplomat to be recognized by Israel as one of the Righteous Among the Nations.

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WHO NU?

Published September 16, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is on the continent of Africa, in Bamboi, Ghana. There is not a lot of streetview available in this area, but you are free to roam within the borders of Ghana for your inspiration.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the prompt. Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the link up below.

Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun! Thanks as always to Karen and Josh for facilitating.

This week, while I stayed in Ghana, I went to a different village. I had to go where the muse took me. A familiar theme for me, but there’s always something new to learn. New people to meet. 

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

WHO NU?

When I was a child in an Orthodox home, Shabbos as it was called by my Polish immigrant grandparents, was a non-negotiable. All work ceased on Friday night. This included tearing toilet paper and flipping light switches. We spent every boring Saturday in shul, synagogue. Havdalah, the separation between Shabbos and the rest of the week, between the holy and the mundane, marked the end of my torture.

            As soon as I was old enough, I joined the Peace Corps. I loved the feeling of helping people less fortunate than myself. I was making a difference. As much as I hated to admit it I was homesick. I even missed Shabbos.

            In a village called Sefwi Wiawso, Ghana I met a group of Jews who invited me to spend Shabbat with them. After a Kosher dinner, I joined my new mishpokhah for Havdalah. Fragrant spices and candlelight replaced my loneliness.

*Mishpocha – family

*Nu? -Yiddish for ‘so?’ 

CLICK here to watch Havdalah, Sefwi style. 

COLLATERAL ORANGE DAMAGE

Published September 9, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Hanoi, Vietnam. Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the location. Feel free to use the image supplied with the prompt or take your own tour of Hanoi. You’ll find photosheres and a limited amount of street view in Hanoi.

Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the link up below. Reading and commenting on others work is part of the fun.

I hated to miss another week so I hope no one minds that I’m sharing something of a rerun.  Not enough brain cells this morning to come up with something new. 😉 Thanks to Karen and Josh for keeping Pegman going.

This isn’t a fun piece by any stretch. Some may remember the shorter version I posted in Friday Fictioneers in February of 2016. Once more I dedicate this story to my brothers in law who both served in Vietnam and suffer the effects of Agent Orange. 

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

COLLATERAL ORANGE DAMAGE

(Expanded)

            “Farewell, Rob” was all I could muster as I laid my battered dog tags on his grave.

            We’d been through a lot together, but in the end it wasn’t a Viet Cong bullet, but prostate cancer that got him. Doc says I’m next on the hit parade.  

            Please try to understand. We were soldiers following orders.

            “A little defoliating agent to clear the jungle and expose the enemy.” Our commanding officers assured us. “Nothing that will harm a human.”

            I’d read of the far reaching effects and wanted to check it out for myself. I booked a flight and a room in beautiful downtown Hanoi.

            Last night, after taking in the sights, I visited a children’s hospital in Ho Chi Minh City. There the fruits of our labors languish with twisted or missing limbs and eyes that bulge from enlarged skulls.           

            We have exposed the enemy, and he is us.

Click Here for a Disturbing Illustration

 

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