What Pegman Saw

All posts tagged What Pegman Saw

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.”

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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

 

BIRTHRIGHT

Published August 26, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is in Resolute, NU, Canada. Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the location. Feel free to use the image supplied in the prompt or snag your own. Both streetview and photospheres are available in this location.

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

In pursuance of a story this morning, I ended up south of Resolute, although still in Nunavut. Thanks as always to Karen and Josh for facilitating this blog challenge. 

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

BIRTHRIGHT

“You hold the pencil like this.” I imagine Napachie guiding her daughter’s tiny hand. “Draw what you see.”  

            I watch Annie draw a face on the paper and smile up at her mother. “I want to be an artist like you when I grow up, Anaana.

            Perhaps Napachie Pootoogook’s heart swelled with pride. “And like your grandmother Pitseolak Ashoona.”  

             

            Did fame destroy the child who became an internationally acclaimed artist? Her boyfriend claims she’d disappear for days to drink. Others say she feared him. Did he murder her? Or did it happen as the chief investigator told reporters?

            “…could be suicide, accidental, she got drunk and fell in the river and drowned…much of the Aboriginal population in Canada is just satisfied being alcohol and drug abusers.”

            What would she say?  

            Her depictions are courageous and straight forward. Although her pencils lay still and bereft, deep calls to deep. Annie speaks to me.

To know a little more CLICK here.

 

IF THY RIGHT HAND OFFEND THEE

Published July 29, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Kinshasa, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the location. Feel free to use the image provided in the prompt, or chose from photo spheres around Kinshasa. Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the linkup below.

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this challenge for globetrotting writers. It’s the extra 50 words that keep me coming back. 😉

Remember – Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

IF THY RIGHT HAND OFFEND THEE

                                                                        August 12, 1896

Ma chérie,

I signed on for the Congo, eager to serve Leopold—to civilize the savage.  

I hold your face in my heart—the celestial blue of your eyes, the curve of your fair cheek and sweetness of your lips. But this vision is no longer enough to sustain me. Forgive, my love, another face has replaced yours. It is magnificent. Brown with midnight eyes. Every whit as handsome as our own Francois and no older.

I followed orders. I lopped off his right hand for not meeting our rubber quotas. What kind of savage does this to another human being?

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Upon entering the tent, Andre dropped to his knees. “Dear God!”

Louis tutted and pulled a blanket over their fallen comrade.  “Why on earth did Thomas take his own life?”

Picking up a blood-spattered hatchet, Andre shuddered. “And how could he chop off his own hand?”

 

In 1896, a German journalist reported that 1,308 hands were collected in one day.

CLick HERE to watch the disturbing documentary.

WHO CAN FIND A VIRTUOUS WOMAN?

Published July 22, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Melbourne, Australia. Feel free to use the photo provided in the prompt, or seek out your own using Google’s street view or photo spheres.

Your mission: write up to 150 words inspired by the location. Once your piece is polished, feel free to share it with others using the link up below. Or, if you don’t have a blog to link to, you’re invited to post your story in the comments of this post.

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this challenge for globetrotting writers. It’s the extra 50 words that keep me coming back. 😉

Adass Israel School in Melbourne

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

WHO CAN FIND A VIRTUOUS WOMAN?

Tonight Mama locked me in the cupboard under the stairs. “Beyz meydl! Evil girl!” I could hear her rant all the way down the hallway. “What dybbik enticed you to venture outside the safe confines of Adass Israel? Ours is a sacred community.”  

I only went to a bookstore in Melbourne. I want to read novels that don’t have half the sentences marked out. Why is this so wrong?

I hate the dark. When I’m there I see my principal’s hands. I can still feel them touching me under my blouse and skirt. She claims she’s performing a mitzvah and preparing me for marriage. Sometimes I think she might be the only person who has ever loved me. Other times I’m not so sure. If this is a good thing, why does Mrs. Leifer always close the door and lower the blinds? Why do I feel disgusting and rotten inside?

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Malka Leifer

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