HOUSE OF JACOB

Published March 2, 2020 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman journeys to the port of Hadera, Israel. As always, walk around until you find something that inspires you to write up to 150 words, then share it with the other contributors. Remember that reading and commenting on the other stories is part of the fun.

Contributions have again been declining, so Pegman may go into retirement soon. I’d encourage you to show your support for this prompt. Thanks.

I’ve been a Pegman MIA for a while. Too many challenges lately, including the writing of a novel in progress. I understand that facilitating a blog challenge is can be daunting. Participation and reciprocation are the key to success. On that note, I apologize for not being more faithful. With the location being in Israel, how could I not show up?

Thank you for your diligence, Josh and Karen.

Genre: Historical Fiction for Women’s History Month 😉

Word Count: 150

HOUSE OF JACOB

Hannah gazed at the chubby infant in the crook of her arm. After hours of torturous labor, she was weary, yet too excited to sleep. She studied the baby’s perfectly formed hands and paper-thin fingernails. “I was so sure the Almighty would give me a son.”

The baby opened her eyes and formed an ‘o’ with her lips as if trying to answer.

“On this day in 1891, our Moshavah Hadera welcomes another soul. A new life in a new village.” Full cheeks glowing with perspiration and joy, the midwife lifted the newborn from Hannah’s arms. “What will you be when you grow up? A teacher, maybe? A doctor perhaps?” The child whimpered and sucked her fist. “For now, a hungry girl.”

Hannah held the child to her breast. “Do you regret not having your own children?”

“I’ve helped birth hundreds of children.” Olga Hankin laughed. “They’re all my own.”

*

Herzl Street

BIVOUAC

Published December 9, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Saskatchewan Canada. You may use the photo provided with the prompt or take to Google maps and search within the borders of Saskatchewan for your own inspiration.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the prompt. You may contribute poetry, prose, or essay. Once your piece is polished share with others at the link up below. Reading and commenting on others work is part of the fun.

Click frogs to enter the campground.

Thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting the challenge.

I chose this idyllic scene to revisit a flash fiction I wrote in July of 2012 when I was just one of the Friday Fictioneers gang. I added 50 words and a new title. Voila!

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

BIVOUAC

“I detest camping,” said Ella.

Following a full day of hiking, two miles past the nearest service station, Geoff’s classic mustang stalled. Neither of their cell phones found a signal and the sun was setting. Resentment swelled her. Pain riddled her back and thighs as they’d hauled their gear to a nearby vacant cabin.

“You told me you loved camping, El.”

“I lied.”

He massaged her swollen feet. “Look at this magnificent view. Not to mention you’re in the company of your personal physician.”

How could she resist his brown-eyed, boyish pout? That same look coaxed her into matrimony to the impoverished med student a year ago. “Yes, it’s beautiful. I only hope the folks who own this place don’t come and have us arrested.”

“At least we don’t have to pitch the tent. See? Our luck’s about to change.”

“More than you can imagine, doctor. My water just broke.”

THE AMERICAN DREAM

Published December 1, 2019 by rochellewisoff

“Today Pegman visits the corner of Tulsa’s Greenwood Avenue and Archer Street.

The Greenwood district was a thriving African-American community with luxury shops, restaurants, grocery stores, hotels, jewelry and clothing stores, movie theaters, barbershops and salons, a library, pool halls, nightclubs and offices for doctors, lawyers and dentists. It had its own school system, post office, a savings and loan bank, hospital, and bus and taxi service

This is an unusual prompt today because it’s focused on a specific time and place, and as such is sort of an experiment. We at Pegman encourage you to look into this mostly-forgotten tragedy and write something about it, but as always you can write anything about Tulsa that strikes your fancy.”

CLICK THE FROG TO READ AND COMMENT ON THE STORIES OF OTHERS (AND TO ADD YOUR LINK 😉 )

Thanks to Josh and Karen for hosting the Pegman Challenge. I couldn’t very well resist a challenge that includes history. My heart goes out to the people of Greenwood. I dream of a day we can appreciate each other’s differences instead of trying to snuff them out.

The aftermath. 35 city blocks were razed to the ground.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE AMERICAN DREAM

I knew nothing of the so-called race riot that took over 300 lives in our district of Greenwood until 1996 when the Today Show ran a story. After seeing it on television, my 80-year-old grandfather agreed to let me interview him for a school report.

“You must understand,” he squeezed my hand, “my memories are those of a five-year-old.”

I poised my pen over my notepad. “Go on, Poppy.”

His faded gaze looked past me. “Four men ran toward the house with guns and lighted torches. Bam! My daddy fell.” A tear streamed down a crevice of Poppy’s leathered cheek.

“Mama yelled to us kids, ‘get up under the bed.’ Which we did. My sister clapped her hand over my mouth when one of the men tromped on my finger. I can still feel it. They set fire to the curtains. Life as we knew it went up in smoke.”

ECONOMICS

Published November 16, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Shewdagon Pagoda in Myanmar. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to write up to 150 words inspired by this week’s location. Feel free to use the image supplied in the prompt, or take to Google maps and find your own view with in the borders of Myanmar.

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 round the world blog challenge.

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 150

ECONOMICS

Muu Yi tugged at the wang around her neck. “It makes my shoulders hurt, Aahwarr.”

“You only have five coils.” Her grandmother glanced up from her loom and grinned. “Wait until you have eighteen like me.”

“Why do we wear them when a lot of the women in the village don’t?”

“Modern girls. They care nothing for tradition.” Aahwarr hunched over her weaving and clucked her tongue. Then she straightened. “Listen. I will tell you a story. Thousands of years ago, a sorcerer fell in love with and married a dragon. The dragon laid three eggs which became the Pa-Oh, the Karen and our tribe the Padaung. To honor our dragon mother we make our necks look like hers.”

“I am proud to wear the rings.” Muu Yi clapped her hands. “I like that story.”

“So do the tourists, little one.” Aahwarr patted her granddaughter’s cheek. “So do the tourists.”

WHITE NIGHTS

Published November 9, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman goes to Guyana, South America. Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by this week’s location. Feel free to use the image supplied with the prompt, or zoom in to Guyana on Google Maps and find your own inspiration. Warning, there are not a lot of photo spheres, but the more you zoom around the more you’ll find.

Once your piece is polished, share it with others at the link up below. You may contribute, poetry, prose, or essay–or whatever the location inspires you to write. Reading and commenting is part of the fun!

click the frog. You know you want to.

Thanks to Karen and Josh for facilitating this challenge.

The following is an expanded version of a story I posted 4 years ago in Friday Fictioneers. For those of us who remember…let us never forget.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

WHITE NIGHTS

Like a frightened animal, the girl huddled in the darkest corner of an abandoned shack on the beach. I offered her refuge in my winter home in Bridgetown. After much coaxing she accepted.

“Where are your parents?” I asked. “Do they know where you are?”

She fell into my arms, shaking with anguished sobs. “Dead. Everyone’s dead.”

I embraced her, unable to stem my own tears. “You’re safe now.”

“He promised us a rainbow family in Paradise,” she whispered the next day over lunch.

“We saw the bastard on the news. How did you escape?”

“I told the guard Father wanted flowers for the meeting. I hid under bushes all day, ran all night and then stole a fishing boat. I floated a long time.” She licked her blistered lips.

“Scorcher today.” My husband burst onto the patio, pitcher in hand. “Kool-Aid anyone?”

“No, thank you.” She choked. “Not ever.”

DRINKING THE KOOL-AID

SEEKING ASYLUM

Published October 28, 2019 by rochellewisoff

In the spirit of Halloween, Pegman ventures to one of the creepiest places in the United States, the condemned Overbrook Lunatic Asylum in Cedar Grove, New Jersey. A quick Google search will reveal to the writer many horrifying facts about this cursed place, some of which may inspire up to 150 original words to be shared with fellow Pegman adventurers. Feel free to stroll around until you find something you like, then post your work to the InLinks site. Have fun, and happy Halloween!

I’m not sure how original my 150 words are. This story is somewhat out of my comfort zone, which I’m told is a good thing for a writer. 😉 I guess you could say it haunted me.

Many thanks to Josh and Karen for this challenge which is all about location, location, location.

CLICK FROG TO JOIN IN THE FUN

Word Count: 150

SEEKING ASYLUM

My brother kicked a pile of chipped paint and crumbled floor. “What a shame they’re tearing down this old loony bin.”

“Yeah.” Light beamed through a broken window, illuminating a broken-down piano. “Guess we’ll have to find somewhere else.”

“They say it’s haunted.”

I startled. The voice belonged to a girl sitting in a lopsided chair. She skimmed her fingertips across the yellowed keys, a faraway look in her sky-blue eyes. “I don’t believe it for a minute, do you?”

I pointed to her old-fashion nurse’s cap and uniform. “Halloween costume?”

“Tis the season.” She giggled. “Wanna hear some Scott Joplin?”

“Maple Leaf Rag” shook the walls.

When she finished I applauded and turned to my brother. “Is she amazing or what?”

He scratched his head and sent me a puzzled look. “Who?”

I whipped back around to see a tattered nurse’s cap on the keyboard. “Umm…nobody. Race ya 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.

THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED

Published August 25, 2019 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to the capital of Latvia, in Riga’s Old Town. Your mission is to write up 150 words inspired by the location. Feel free to use the image supplied, or venture around Riga for something that inspires you. You may write fact or fiction, poetry or prose. The only only requirement is to keep your piece at 150 words or less, as a consideration to others.

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

As always, thanks to Karen and Josh for heading up the challenge.

Click the frog to read other stories and add your own.

Peitav Synagogue in Riga, Latvia was built in 1905. It has survived the Holocaust and bombings in the 1990’s.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED

Katya played Chopin’s “Berceuse” on the imaginary piano in her coat pocket with trembling fingers. She tried to keep pace on the frozen path.

Without success, she tried to block out the image of her father, the cantor, lying in the street, his magnificent voice forever stilled. Latvia’s November wind whipped through her.

She remembered when Professor Philipp at the conservatory in Paris proclaimed, “Katya Abramis, you have an exquisite talent.”

“Schnell!”

A drunken soldier ripped an infant from a young mother’s arms and shot him. She dropped to her knees only to suffer the same fate as her son. The snow turned red beneath them.

“Shoes in this pile, clothes in that.”

Katya obeyed. What choice did she have?

Standing naked at the edge of a deep pit, Katya pictured her beloved synagogue and heard Papa sing “Lord of the World, Who was, Who is, Who is to come.”

There is little on the internet about Cantor Abram Abramis or his daughter Katya, renowned pianist of her time. Both perished in the 1941 Massacre in Riga. CLICK HERE for my source.

אנו זוכר’ם

PENANCE

Published August 18, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman travels to the Florida Keys at the bottom of the United States. Like the other Torch Keys, it was probably named for the native Torchwood tree.

Stroll and around and see if you can find something that interests you. When you’re done, write 150 words and link to the prompt using the frog below. Remember, reading and commenting is part of the fun!

Thanks to Josh and Karen for hosting this weekly challenge.

To play add your story click the frog.

Sunset Siesta Florida Key

This week I revisited an oldie posted for Friday Fictioneers in January of 2013. It seems to fit the prompt so I added 50 more words. 😀

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

PENANCE

Jonathan gazed at his reflection in the cracked mirror. Self-loathing flooded him. He took pen in hand, the hand that only an hour before had closed the eyes of a deceased child, still hot with fever. Imagining his beloved’s sweet countenance, Jonathan wrote:

3 December in the year of our Lord 1765

Dearest Catherine,

It is with deep regret I write that I shan’t return to England. I cannot for I would not have you plight your troth to a murderer.

Now I must remain to make amends.

At the first the savage misliked me and I feared him. But over time we became friends. Together we laughed and fished the Seminole way in this Florida paradise.

Surely these people threaten us with war. Yet it was neither my musket nor my dagger that felled my warrior brother and his son, but my white man’s curse—smallpox.

Penitently yours,

Jonathan

WHERE TWO RIVERS MEET

Published August 11, 2019 by rochellewisoff

Karen’s directive: This week Pegman takes us to Manitoba, Canada. Feel free to use the location/picture supplied with the prompt, our take your own tour of Manitoba via Google Maps and find a view to inspire you.

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by the week’s location. You may write poetry, prose, or essay. Once your piece is polished, share it with others using the linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ stories is part of the fun!

Thank you, Karen and Josh for hosting this weekly challenge.

CLICK THE FROG TO JOIN THE FUN

Here is the photo I chose from Google Maps. I hope one day to see the Northern Lights in person.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

WHERE TWO RIVERS MEET

Blue, purple and green snaked across the night sky. Stars twinkled through the brilliant colours.

Full and drowsy after the evening meal, warmed by the fire, Tantoo laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Tell me about the lights, Nikawi. Where do they come from?”

Nikawi stroked Tantoo’s hair. “They are the spirits dancing. See how they move in circles?”

“Nohkum says they are our beloved ancestors visiting us and we should respect them.”

“Your grandmother is a wise woman.” Nikawi’s eyes glittered. “One day we will dance with them.”

“I can hardly wait.” Tantoo yawned, her eyelids heavy with sleep. “I heard the elders say our way of life will end soon. Is this true?”

Nikawi did not reply.

The girl could not imagine it. The Nisichawayasihk had always hunted, fished and tended the land. In return Mother Earth rewarded their reverence. How could it not always be so?