UNRESOLVED

Published October 15, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman is on the lush tropical island of Mauritius. WHAT PEGMAN SAW is a growing prompt challenge hosted by the talented writing team of Rawson and Carroll whom I appreciate as time goes by.

Link to this week’s stories here:

As I began my research trail on the Island of Mauritius, I was led far afield by a documentary on the History channel. 😉 Blame it on my husband who turned it on. The photo I chose is from Mauritius, but that’s as close as I came.

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

UNRESOLVED

“Look, Vovô. I bring a present for you,” Marina held up a glistening seashell.

Clarence hoisted his great-granddaughter onto his lap, took the shell from her and kissed the top of her head. “Belíssimo, like you, my little mermaid.”

“Tell me a story, Vovô. About when you and Tio John stole away from the island on the big rock.”

“1962.” He gazed at the sea and squinted at the setting sun, a brilliant ball against the amber sky, reflecting off the waves. “A whole lifetime ago.”

“Two lifetimes. Nearly fifty years.” Clarence’s brother John sank into a beach chair beside them. “Wonder if they still remember us. Wish we’d had a chance to say goodbye.”

“I shore do miss Mama’s fried chicken, ain’t nothin’ in Brazil holds a candle to it.” Clarence could still hear the prison bars clank behind him. He pressed his cheek against Marina’s. “Inescapable Alcatraz. Ha!”

*

Anglin Brothers in 1960

Could this be them in Brazil in 1972?

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COUNTRY ROADS

Published October 8, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman returns to the Western Hemisphere to take us on a tour of Littleton, West Virginia. Although I missed the challenge last week, a story formed pretty quickly for this one. I’m a day late and see that this group is growing. Nice to see. Thanks to Karen and Josh for hosting. I so appreciate the two of you on more than one level. 😉

To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 150

This story is dedicated to the forgotten veterans, the women who unassumingly served as nurses and ‘Donut Dollies.’

COUNTRY ROADS

“My dearest Jimmy,

Remember 1971? We came home from Vietnam that year—the same year John Denver’s song became a hit. I think he must’ve written it with you in mind.

‘Littleton,’ you laughed, your eyes shining like the stars over the Shenandoah River. ‘It’s just a Podunk town in the middle of nowhere.’

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

Sharon set aside her pen and paper. Picking up Jimmy’s guitar, she strummed the melody and sang, “…West Virginia, Blue Ridge Mountain…” She closed her eyes. “Life is old there, older than the trees, younger than the mountains…”

A gentle breeze riffled her hair. “You promised to bring me here after the war. And so you have.”

She folded the note, tucked it inside the guitar and propped it against his headstone. Forever she would carry his face 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)

ELEGY

Published September 16, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to St. Petersburg, Russia.

There’s an abundance of both street view and photo spheres in this beautiful city. Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you like for your post.

Your job is to write a 150-word (or less) story about this week’s chosen location. Where will you take your readers? You’re invited to join the talented writers of Pegman this week in St. Petersburg, Russia.

To enjoy this week’s stories or to submit your own, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to Karen Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for facilitating this interesting and unique challenge.

As you may already know, I’m currently working on getting my fourth book A STONE FOR THE JOURNEY ready for publication. It will be a collection of illustrations and excerpts depicting characters and scenes from my novel trilogy. These excerpts seem to lend themselves to 100-150 word flashes. This week’s location was the perfect opportunity. Thank you for your indulgence and your help. 😉

St. Petersburg Philharmonic

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 149

ELEGY

With the unpleasant task of delivering bad news to a dear friend and former patient behind him, Dr. Nikolai Derevenko settled back for the evening. In an attempt to cheer himself, he picked up his flute from the table, brought it to his lips and played a Bach sonata. Usually the music would lift his spirits, but tonight it only intensified his loneliness as he reflected on his life, beginning with the day he informed his father he had chosen to go to medical school.

Sergei Derevenko, a prominent violinist in the St. Petersburg Philharmonic, eyed Nikolai with a mixture of anger and hurt.

“You’d rather slice people open and wallow in their blood and bile than delight thousands of patrons with your talent? I don’t understand you, Kolyah.”

“You never have. Why start now?”

“But how can you abandon your dreams?”

“Don’t you mean your dreams, Tatko?”

For your listening pleasure.

Nikolai “Kolyah” Derevenko © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sergei Derevenko © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Original Artwork © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

TREADING WATER

Published September 4, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Poisson-Blanc, Quebec, Canada.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

This week Karen posted the prompt early. And still I’m late. But that depends on your definition of late. 😉 On the other hand, the timing just might be deliberate. And…while my prompt is from Poisson-Blanc, my story veers far afield and very much about the water. Thanks as always to Karen Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for facilitating this prompt. Fun stuff. Love the extra words and a different challenge.

Genre: Historical Faction

Word Count: 150

TREADING WATER

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Mary knelt beside her dripping daughter. “There’ll be other swim meets.”

“But I told everybody I was going to win and I came in last.”

“It’s only your first race.” Richard swept the child into his arms. “You’re only six years old, baby. Someday you’ll have a mantel full of trophies.”

“Really, Daddy?”

“Or my name isn’t Dick Chadwick.”

Five years later, Florence Chadwick won the silver cup in a race across San Diego Bay, the first of many awards.

In the 1950’s she set her goggled sights on the English Channel, ultimately swimming it four times in both directions.

On September 4, 1953, she beat the women’s and men’s records, swimming from Dover to Wissant in 14 hours and 42 minutes.

On that same Friday, across the pond, in Kansas City, Missouri, Bob and Evalyne Wisoff greeted their own little 6 lb. white fish, Rochelle Elise.

In my happy place.

Florence Chadwick

ASLEEP IN THE LIGHT

Published August 26, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Flash fiction is a valuable training tool for all writers. It helps promote clarity and precision by forcing the writer to be succinct.

This week WHAT PEGMAN SAW travels to North Korea. Be very careful of what you say to whom you say it.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Many thanks for hosting this challenge to Karen Rawson and and J Hardy Carroll .

For this week’s challenge I revisited a Friday Fictioneers piece I posted two years ago, added 50 words and gave it a new title.

Genre: Realistic, Historical and All-Too-Current Fiction

Word Count: 150

ASLEEP IN THE LIGHT

At thirteen Myung Hee was three years older than the rest of my students. Despite my many scoldings, they laughed at her and called her babo.

One day I found her weeping in the schoolyard.

“What’s wrong, gongjunim?”

“I’m not princess.” A single tear trickled down her cheek. “I feel sorry for these children. They are not understand. In time a heart beats this light can be snatched from them.”

I tried to hug her but she pulled back. Her swollen eyes, old beyond their years, pierced my heart.

“My baby brother and I escaped Kim Jong-il’s prison camp, but two days later I buried him in the desert with only the stars to see. I thought South Korea would be the center of my dreams, but they lie with my brother in darkness.”

Myung Hee’s words resonated deep within me and, in that moment, the teacher became the student.

BEDTIME STORY

Published August 19, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Wroclaw, Poland

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Note that there is both streetview and photospheres at this location.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

For some reason, I’m not getting my Pegman notification in my inbox. So I had to go looking for it. 😉 Good job J Hardy and K Rawson. Now you know I’m hooked. Not to mention that I’m typing this in a moving car on the way back from a writers conference in Branson, MO.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

BEDTIME STORY

“The Cossacks came to Poland to recruit soldiers into the Russian army.” Rhoda’s grandfather’s faded eyes filled. “Soldiers? Feh! It’s 1903. I am fourteen and live with my sister and her husband. She hides me under a pile of soiled diapers and bedding. Oy, the shtink. When the Cossacks leave, she kisses me and shoves me out the back door. ‘Go,’ she says. ‘to America.’”

Questions stuck in Rhoda’s throat like cold oatmeal. “You came by yourself?”

“Like an animal in the ship’s steerage level. Nu? It’s better than serving 40 years as a Jew in the Czar’s army.”

“How did you survive?”

“To see dis shriveled old man now you would not know what a clever boy he was. You live on the street, you learn quick.”

Rhoda hugged her pillow to her chest. “You must’ve had gobs of adventures!”

Zaydeh pinched her cheek. “Stories for another time, yes?”

THE FINAL SOLUTION

Published August 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Pena, Portugal.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Note that there is both streetview and photospheres at this location.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

A view of Pena National Palace – Welcome to Portugal

If you think you’re seeing double, you are. 😉 I’m double dipping this week. The following is also an expanded Friday Fictioneers story I posted two years ago. When I saw Pegman in Portugal, I decided this one fit. When I saw that some of the commentors from that time are now participating in Pegman I decided to post update and earlier piece. By the afternoon I decided to post this one, too. It’s as old as time and as current as today’s newscast. 😦

Shalom,

Rochelle

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE FINAL SOLUTION

“These madmen rob us of everything we’ve worked so hard for—our tapestries, jewelry and, even our furniture.” Leah fingered the yellow badge sewn on her cape. “If that’s not enough, they brand us like cattle and you do nothing.”

“What can I do?” Abraham rubbed a painful lump on the back of his head. “One taste of Jewish blood sends them into frenzy, like rabid dogs. Finish packing. We set sail in the morning while we still can.”

Leah held a golden bracelet to her breast. “They cannot have this. It belonged to my grandmother, may her memory be blessed.”

Abraham’s heart thrashed against his ribs. “Leave it! What’s a bauble when our people are being exterminated like cockroaches?”

The bracelet fell from her fingers and she collapsed into his arms. “España is our home.”

“Querida, you are my home. 1493 in Portugal—it will be a better year.”

There’s nothing new under the sun.

THE JUMPING FLEA

Published August 13, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Pena, Portugal.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post. Note that there is both streetview and photospheres at this location.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Thanks to J Hardy Carroll and K Rawson for hosting this unique challenge and for giving me an extra 50 words to play with each week.

This week I brought back one that I posted three years ago in Friday Fictioneers and added 50 words to it. I enjoyed the rewrite, I hope you enjoy the reread. 😉

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

THE JUMPING FLEA

“Better to harvest the sugarcane fields in Hawaii than starve in Madeira,” João Fernandes told his reluctant wife. “You’ll see, we will have a better life there.”

“Portugal is home. Português is the only language we speak.”

“We’ll build a new home and learn a new language.”

During the monotonous, sometimes perilous, four months at sea she spent most of her time retching over the side of the ship. He, on the other hand, entertained his fellow immigrants on the braguinha.

____

Enamored with the new music form and João’s lively style, the Hawaiians treated him and his little guitar like royalty. Even Queen Lili’uokalani requested private evening concerts.

One lonely night, homesick for her mountains, Senhora Fernandes waited up for him.

At long last, he burst through the door. “Behold the queen’s favorite musician!”

She seized his ukulele and smashed it to pieces over his head. “Behold your instrument!”

***

For your listening pleasure. It’s kind of long but, if you have an extra 6 minutes to spare. This is no tiptoe through the tulips.

PEDIGREE

Published July 31, 2017 by rochellewisoff

This week Pegman takes us to Cape Town, South Africa.

Feel free to stroll around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Once more I’m late to the party. Many thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this prompt.

Although I chose a photo from Cape Town, I traveled far afield. The architecture puts me in mind of the old part of Charleston, SC. So I took a story I wrote for Friday Fictioneers a couple of years ago and, as Karen graciously put it, breathed new life into it. At the same time, when South Africa comes to mind, I think of Apartheid. So there’s kind of connection…right? That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

PEDIGREE

I adored our handsome houseboy “Black-Jack.” Mama had a special smile just for him. Nobody told a better story. Sarah and I shared his lap, laughing and crying by turns.

One night I kissed his bronze cheek. “I wish you were my daddy, too.”

“So does I, my sweet li’l magnolia.”

When Sarah and I turned eight, Grandma sold him.

Mama swooned. I dried Sarah’s tears with my lace petticoat.

“Stop that, Emma.” Grandma snapped. “She’s your slave.”

“No! She’s my best friend. My sister.”

“Never!”

I still feel the sting of Grandma’s hand across my lips.

A month later the old biddy sold Sarah.

On my seventeenth birthday I was married off to a plantation owner near Charleston.

This morning I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl who bears no resemblance to either her blond father or me. In fact, she’s the spitting image of her Aunt Sarah.

Real life twins.

WATER BABY

Published July 24, 2017 by rochellewisoff

Today Pegman takes us to the Great Barrier Reef in Australia.

Feel free to swim around the area using the Google street view and grab any picture you choose to include in your post.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

Many thanks to K Rawson and J Hardy Carroll for hosting this challenge every week. Facilitating a weekly commitment that often requires more effort than meets the eye. I doff my swim cap to you, Karen and Josh.

Great Barrier Reef

While the photo is from the Pegman prompt, I confess, I swam far afield. As often happens, the research trail leads where I least expect. The ideas came to me while swimming. Like the protagonist in my story, I’m a water baby. I considered what my goggles allow me to clearly see, such as the watery ceiling when I flip turn. So I considered the history of swim goggles and ended up with the following story.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 150

WATER BABY

Anna helped her daughter take off her wet clothes. “Gertie, my little pollywog, whatever am I to do with you?”

The child shivered. “I wanted to swim and I couldn’t find the ocean.”

Anna bit her lip and wrapped a warm towel around her. “A horse trough is no substitute for the sea, liebling.”

***

Anna Ederle’s heart swelled as tickertape floated over her twenty-year-old daughter who waved to adoring fans lining Manhattan’s streets shouting, “Trudy! Trudy!”

Slathered with lanolin and olive oil, Gertrude had conquered the English Channel in 14 hours and 31 minutes, beating records previously set by men.

The press sang her praises. President Coolidge even invited her to the White House.

Yet, she’d dodge the accolades in favor of a long swim. Anna grinned, remembering Gertie’s words when her brother pulled her from the horse trough.

“When I’m in the water, I’m not in this world.”

*

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