TREDEGAR 1911

Published May 14, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Gwynedd, Wales. This week’s location was suggested by regular Pegman storyteller Alicia Jamtaas. Be sure to visit her site and enjoy her flash fiction and poetry over at https://lishwriter.wordpress.com/ Thanks for the great suggestion, Lish!

Your mission is to visit the region via Google Maps, and write (up to) 150 words inspired by the prompt. You can use the photo above, or browse around for your own view anywhere in Gwynedd. There are plenty of photo spheres around Caernarfon Castle, and both street view and photo spheres all over Gwynedd.

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

So here I am late for the party once more. And…while my picture is of a street in Gwynedd, my story takes place in another part of Wales–Tredegar. You may be saying, “Oy, there she goes with the Jewish history again.” 😉 Couldn’t help myself.

As always, thank you to Karen and Josh for facilitating this group of globe trotting writers.

Genre: Historical Fiction (You were expecting maybe vampires?)

Word Count: 150

TREDEGAR 1911

“Why, Adoshem?” Tears streamed from my papa’s eyes and soaked his beard. “Again and again You bring destruction upon us? For this we fled Russia—to be slaughtered in Wales? ‘He has hurled fire into my bones—’” A sob choked his words.

I trembled. The night before I’d hidden under my bed, covering my ears to blot out shouts of, “Get the Jews!” and the crash of shattering windows.

Broken furniture littered the floor. Papa’s sewing machine lay in two pieces. Spools of thread and shredded fabric were strewn everywhere.

Mama’s soft voice cut through the hush. “Danken Gott, we’re alive.”

Papa winced. “For how long. Everywhere the goyim hate us. ”

At that moment a Christian youth entered the shop, head bowed, and gave Papa a banknote. “My father sends his apologies and this to help rebuild.” He took a broom from the floor. “Perhaps I can help.”

CLICK FOR A BIT OF HISTORY

Some Even Call it Poetry

Published May 7, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Many thanks to Marsha Gershun who, for the third year in a row has organized the CloudBursT at Beth Torah Synagogue in Overland Park, Kansas.

Martha Gershun

This was my second year to participate. Although, only a handful of us turned up, it was a lovely time to share our individual Jewish experience.

Two of my Hebrew students came to support me…Joy and Joie…so you could say it was a joyful experience. 😉 I wish I’d thought to take a picture of the two of them. Alas, I didn’t so you’ll have to take my word for it that they are two very lovely ladies.

Although I would love to have shared a few other readers, my husband’s smartphone could only take so much. So for your watching and listening (hopefully) pleasure, here’s my part of the program. My Friday Fictioneers and other Pegman participants will undoubtedly recognize these pieces.

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Published May 6, 2018 by rochellewisoff

Happy Cinco de Mayo! This week, quite fittingly, Pegman takes us to Mexico. Participants are invited to poke around the resort village (and ancient Mayan stomping grounds) of Tulum. You’ll find both streetview and photospheres to inspire you at this location.

Your mission is to write a 150-word story-poem-essay inspired by the location. Feel free to wander around and find your own view to use in your post.

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

The photo I chose is from the “Pegman Buffet” but my story takes place in Chiapas, Mexico, a few miles inland from Tulum. The Mayans have always fascinated me. So many mysteries surrounding them.

Thanks as always to Karen and Josh for hosting this globe trotting challenge.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

The soft grass tickled her back as Yohl laid beside the stream. She relished the sun’s warmth on her face. The rush of the waterfall lulled her and a delicious wave of sleep washed over her.

“Yohl Ik’nal!”

She snapped open her eyes to see a giant looming above her. Sunrays splayed like a crown around his massive head. Lightning bolts from his dark eyes seared her.

Heart thumping, she rolled over and lay prostrate before him. “Itzamná, ruler of the heavens. All gods tremble in your presence. Why do you come to me, a mere girl child?”

Tucking his finger under her chin, he raised her head. “You shall be queen of your people.”

Like smoke rising from sacrificial fire, he vanished.

Ascending Palenque’s throne, Yohl assumed the burdens of her people. In the shadow of impending battle and bloodshed, she trembled and pondered her dream of long ago.

TO KNOW A LITTLE MORE CLICK HERE 😉

BEYOND THE WALLS

Published April 30, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman goes to the Great Wall of China. Feel free to choose from photospheres you find anywhere along it’s length. This link will get you started, or you can venture off on your own. No need to stay with your tour group on Pegman tours 😉

Your mission is to write up to 150 words inspired by your tour of the location. You’re welcome to write fiction, essay, poetry, or anything you choose. Once your 150 words is polished, you can share it with other Pegman contributors at the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Thanks, always, to Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge. Great fun!

I wasn’t sure I’d make it back this week. We’re finding it takes a while to re-acclimate after a long trip. At any rate, this story has been brewing for the past couple of days, so, despite my being late for the Pegman party, I post this for those who’ll read.

The photo I chose.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

BEYOND THE WALLS

The letter arrived a few days before my thirtieth birthday. I studied the handwriting. It almost looked like I’d written it myself. Was it a cruel prank or a defining moment?

“No doubt this is terrible timing, but I’ve been searching for you half my life. Your Facebook posts about your poor mum’s dreadful automobile accident, told me I’d found my answer…”

Searching for me? I lived in Missouri, thousands of miles from London. This stranger, named Sally Myers-Hempstead, proposed we make a Skype date.

Ron booted up my laptop. “What’ve ya got to lose, Sis? This might be your answer, too.”

What answer? My adoption had never been a secret. Mom and Dad loved to tell the story of how they went all the way to China for their baby girl.

My mirror image smiled onscreen. “Happy birthday, Sondra!”

I managed to whisper. “Happy birthday to you, too, Sally.”

*

It does happen…quite a bit actually. These two young ladies, adopted by different families were reunited on GMA a couple of years ago. There are many other stories out there, similar to my bit of fiction.

DELIVERANCE

Published March 31, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Nigeria. Feel free to use the location chosen or chose from one of the many photo spheres available throughout the country of Nigeria. if you drift over to Lagos along the southwest shore, you’ll also be able to take a streetview.

The Pegman challenge is to write 150 words inspired by this week’s location. Will it be historical fiction? Fantasy? Contemporary? Or does the location bring out your poetry muse? It’s up to you. When your piece is polished, please share a link to it at the linkup below:

Although the photo I chose is from the Pegman buffet and is the Garura Waterfall in Nigeria, I traveled far afield. What can I say? Tis the season when a Jewish princess’ thoughts turn to Moses, Matza and Maror (bitter herbs). Enjoy! Chag Samayach (Happy Holiday) Whether you celebrate Passover, Easter or all or none of the above.

As always, many thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting the Pegman Party.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

DELIVERANCE

Yosi pushed at the door, but before he could open it, his mother shoved him aside and shouted, “No! Not tonight. It’s not safe.”

Yosi’s lower lip quivered. His black curls clung to his forehead. “Your cooking makes me hot.”

Dafna whisked him into her arms, kissed his cheek and sat him on the floor beside the infant who slumbered peacefully in her basket. “You must watch your sister for me while I gather our belongings for our journey.”

“Why are we leaving Egypt? Where are we going? Why is this night different?”

“So many questions, Yosi, my firstborn son?” Oriel dripped lamb’s blood on the doorpost. He smiled and shrugged. “Someday you’ll understand and teach your own children.”

***

Forty years later, Yosi recalled the parting of the Reed Sea and prepared the Passover in the Promised Land.

“Abba,” Yosi’s son asked, “Why is this night different from all others?”

PASSOVER EXPLAINED

***

COMING SOON!

A MOTHER’S GIFT

Published March 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Yellowstone National Park in the US. You’ll find both streetview and photo spheres to inspire you. Choose any place within Yellowstone and write 150 words inspired by it. Once your piece is polished, you can share it with others at the link up below:

Many thanks to our tropical travelers Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge.

There were so many gorgeous photos to choose from.

This week I took an old tale out of storage. It was one of my first Friday Fictioneers stories in 2012 (when I was still just one of the gang) and, to this day, is one of my favorites. Fifty extra words afforded me the opportunity to flesh it out a bit.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

A MOTHER’S GIFT

“Walk with me now.” Wind Woman squeezed her daughter’s hand. “It’s time you meet your mother.”

Red Fawn burned with impatience. Any other time she would love to listen to Wind Woman’s many stories. They had given Red Fawn’s childhood life and song.

Today she thought only of her warrior’s raven-black hair and bronzed arms encircling her. Of all the maidens in her clan, he’d chosen her.

Following behind Wind Woman, Red Fawn pouted. “You’re my mother.”

“You must know your birth tribe. Your children must know.”

At the top of the hill the older woman pointed to two burial mounds. “When we found them, he was dead. She laid you in my arms. Then she died.”

Wind Woman’s dark eyes brimmed. She pressed her palms against Red Fawn’s cheeks. “Hair like fire. Eyes like sky. The Great Spirit gave you to me. Tomorrow I give you to Iron Wolf.”

PILGRIMAGE

Published March 11, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Abaco, Bahamas. You won’t find much in the way of streetview out in this neck of the Bahamas. Mainly because you won’t find much in the way of streets. You can use the photo provided, or dangle Pegman over the map to find your own slice of paradise.

Your mission is to write 150 words inspired by what you find. Will you treat us to comedy? Tragedy? Sci Fi Slipstream Historical Fiction? Your only limit is your imagination. And of course the previously mentioned 150 words. Once you’ve polished your story-poem-essay, share it with other Pegman contributors using the link up below.

The pictures of the beaches and the ocean took me back to the Virgin Islands where I fell in love with snorkeling 😀 My story has absolutely nothing to do with that. 😉 As always thank you to Karen and Josh for facilitating the challenge that keeps drawing me in for the extra 50 word plunge.

Genre: Speculative Fantasy

Word Count: 150

PILGRIMAGE

“You never cease to amaze me,” said Dale.

Shrugging my blazing shoulders, I replied. “You mean my faulty memory? Oy, I wish I’d remembered my sunscreen this afternoon.”

Waves gently lapped the shore as sand and water squished between my bare toes. Moonlight sparkled on the water like sequins under a spotlight.

Dreams of meeting my friend sans Skype screen had finally become a reality. Nights of girl-talk followed days of sightseeing, sampling Bahamian food and snorkeling.

“Thanks for accompanying me to services tonight,” I said.

“Wouldn’t have missed it. I loved the music.”

“The shul’s named after Luis de Torres, Christopher Columbus’ interpreter—first Jew to set foot on the island—a Marrano—convert. 1492 was the middle of the Inquisition so his choices were become a Catholic or—”

“Leave it to you.”

“What?”

“One synagogue, 50 Jews and you managed to find them.”

“Shabbat shalom, mon amie.”

*

Yep, I did find one. Maybe someday I’ll really get to visit it (and Dale) in person.

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

Published March 4, 2018 by rochellewisoff

There is a road some fifty-three miles NNE of New York City with a strange reputation. This week, Pegman has stranded you there.Volumes have been written about Clinton Road in West Milford, NJ, but you only need to write 150 words. The only limit is your imagination.Feel free to capture your own streetview. If you’re not up to a weird tale, feel free to wander anywhere within the state of New Jersey for your story.Once your 150 words are polished, you can share with other contributors using the Linkup below. Reading and commenting on others’ work is part of the fun!

Many thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting this challenge that gives me 50 more words to play with. 😉

While the photo below is taken from the Pegman Buffet, I must confess, despite the directives, I didn’t stay in New Jersey. I went to Rickey Road in Raytown, Missouri, where, as with Clinton Road, the stories abound.

Genre: Fictionalized Memoir

Word Count: 150

WOODSMOKE AT TWILIGHT

I looked forward to my troop’s wilderness excursions. Had it not been for scouting, I might never have seen the great outdoors beyond my backyard. My parents, while not religiously observant, adhered to the eleventh commandment—“Jews don’t camp.”

Overnights were the best. Following an afternoon of dodging poison ivy and climbing hills, we’d gather around the campfire. Our mouths and fingers gooey from roasted marshmallows, we topped off the day with ghost stories about the infamous and spooky Rickey Road.

“My uncle found a man’s head in the grass,” said Lucy in a loud whisper.

“Ooooooo,” we’d giggle. “Gross!”

Margo’s cheeks glowed in the blaze. “It opened its eyes and screamed, ‘I want my golden arm!’”

Our childish imaginations kicked into overdrive. Each storyteller sought to outdo the last.

Back home in my own bed, I wouldn’t sleep for a month without a nightlight.

I miss those good times.

*********

Troop 499-Can you find me?

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Published February 25, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is back in Europe, visiting the Czech Republic for the first time. You’re invited to stroll the city of Karlovy Vary and choose your own view. Take your inspiration and write no more 150 words. Once your poem, story, or essay is polished, share it with others at the link up below:

I’m a little late to the party this week, but after being MIA for the past two weeks, I’m happy to have made it. 😉 Many thanks to Karen and Josh for their dedication to their growing challenge. I’m pleased to announce that I’m rounding the bend of the final heat for A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY. Hopefully it will debut this Spring.

Here’s the photo I chose from the Pegman Buffet. My story doesn’t exactly take place here but a few kilometers away in Prague.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE FROZEN SEA WITHIN US

Shadow monsters chased Franz. Twisted trees and thorny brambles caught his clothes. He snapped open his eyes. Demons vanished like steam over Mother’s cooking pot.

The wind blustered and howled outside, sounding like shouts of tyrants and wails of children. Franz’s tongue cleaved to the bottom of his mouth.

He cried out. “May I have a drink of water?”

“Go back to sleep, you little insect,” his father hollered.

“Please, Father, I am so thirsty.”

“Thirsty are you?” Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Franz opened his eyes. Father loomed over the bed like the ominous forest creatures of his nightmare. Instead of comforting words the child longed for, Father carried him to the balcony. “Never disturb my sleep again.” The door locked behind him.

Frigid wind whipped through the boy’s thin nightgown. For the rest of his all-too-brief life, Franz Kafka despaired of ever winning his father’s love.

*

Click here for more of Kafka

FUROR

Published January 29, 2018 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman visits Bristol in the southwest of England. This week’s location was suggested by the talented and inspiring Kelvin M. Knight, blogger and flash fiction ninja. If you haven’t already, wander over and check out his blog.

Your mission is to write a 150-word story, poem, or essay inspired by this week’s location. You’ll find both photo spheres and streetview to inspire you. Once your piece is polished, please share it with other Pegman contributors using the link up below.

It has been one majorly busy weekend with an unexpected trip to the ER and a whole day lost. Here it is Monday morning…still catching up on Friday Fictioneers and posting a late Pegman story. What am I meshuggeh? On the other hand, the following tweaked snippet from AS ONE MUST, ONE CAN puts me closer to having A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY completed. So it’s all good, right? Of course right!

Colston Hall in Bristol taken in 1917

Genre: Historical Fiction (Vienna 1908)

Word Count: 150

FUROR

Deep satisfaction surged through Ulrich. Four-year-old Rachel enthralled audiences across Europe, from Colston Hall in Bristol, to, just days before, in Vienna’s Musikverein.

“Rachel is a magnificent talent,” said Catherine.

“A prodigy. My little Mozart.”

The steady clop of the horses’ hooves along the cobblestones lulled Ulrich as they made their way around the circular courtyard called the Schwarzenbergplatz.

He stopped the carriage. “The famous Hochstrahlbrunnen fountain.”

“It’s simply gorgeous!”

In the midst of a large round pool, a geyser-like fountain spotlighted from below illuminated the night sky, by turns, with purple, blue, yellow, green and red.

A strident voice split through the peaceful water’s swooshing. A rail-thin youth gestured with the fervor of one addressing thousands rather than one equally scrawny youngster.

“These strange ones with their ugly language that sounds like snuffles and squeaking and their odd dress have no place here. We are Germans. ‘Deutschland über alles!’”