21 November 2014

Published November 19, 2014 by rochellewisoff

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The following photo is the PROMPT. Whether you spell it ‘tire’ or ‘tyre’ doesn’t matter. What matters is what you see. Step outside the box. I dare you. ;)

My story is after the prompt and the blue inLinkz frog. I appreciate honest comments and crit. 

It has come to my attention through a myriad of enthusiastic and well meaning comments in my comment section that inLinkz is requiring a log in from those using the code. I apologize for any confusion and encourage you to contact inLinkz.com DIRECTLY for help. Also, I’ve been told that the blue frog does a disappearing act from this page for some. I don’t know why this happens nor is there anything I can do about it. If you want to vent about it feel free to email me at Runtshell@gmail.com. I’ll do what I can. 

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100


            After weeks of rolling waves and seasickness, Robert William Thomson arrived in America. Banished. A fugitive all because he refused to go to Seminary. Sentenced to apprentice as a merchant with his uncle in Charleston.

            The weary boy tried to find a comfortable position in the carriage as it lurched and bounced along the rock strewn road. His back ached with each bump and he longed for his beloved Scotland.      

            “I couldn’t learn Latin either,” said his uncle with a wink. “What would ye really like to do, laddie?”

            “I’d like to take the corners off these bloody wheels.”




Thomson's US patent

 Click Here to Learn More. 

14 November 2014

Published November 12, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Snorkeling in St. Thomas

Ellehcor Banner FF

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The next PHOTO is the PROMPT.  What kind of story does it tell you? Tell the rest of us in a hundred words or less.  Would your story make sense without the photo? 

My story follows the photo and the blue frog. I appreciate honest comments. 

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100


            “Can’t you imagine little Harry trying to climb the fig trees?” Ida’s eyes glittered. “He would’ve been three this year.”

            “I miss him, too,” Harvey whispered.

            Although his heart ached with loss, Harvey still counted his blessings. What could such a vibrant woman possibly see in him, a wheelchair bound invalid thirty years her senior?

            “Maybe we’ll have another son. For now we have one hundred twenty acres of prime, undeveloped California land to subdivide.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with a kiss. “What shall we call our little town? Harryville?”

            “Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s call it Hollywood.”




Daeida Hartle Wilcox Beveridge

Daeida Hartell Wilcox Beveridge “The Mother of Hollywood”

Click here for more info.

Harvey Wilcox

Harvey Henderson Wilcox


7 November 2014

Published November 5, 2014 by rochellewisoff




The disc and the dragonfly

*IMPORTANT NOTE -Please use the photo prompt in some way shape or form. Printing “Friday Fictioneers” in your tags doesn’t necessarily make it so. 

FF copyright banner final

The next photo is the PHOTO PROMPT. Study it and let it speak to you. My story follows the blue inLinkz frog .



PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright - Jean L. Hays

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jean L. Hays


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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100


            “Too much studying will ruin you. Carpe Diem. Let’s play catch.” Ted grabbed Douglas’ notebook and pressed a pie tin into his hand.

            “Catch? With this?”

            “From the Frisbie Pie Company. It’s all the rage on campus.”

            For the next hour Douglas forgot about Yale, final examinations and commencement. Tension from late nights hunched over text books lifted off his shoulders and a sense of euphoria filled him as he and Ted flung the whirling dish back and forth.

            “This is bound to become a national sport,” cried Douglas.

            “Tin Tossing Tournaments?”

            “Why not?”

            “School’s finally driven you mad, MacIlroy.”

Frisbie Pie Tin


Have I gone too far off the beaten path with this one? 

Scout’s Honor, I started with the pictured Ford Edsels. In fact,  I spent a whole day researching Edsel Bryant Ford, the only son of Henry Ford. While I learned a lot, I just couldn’t eke out a story.

However, the Edsel made its debut on my fourth birthday, 4 September 1957. What else happened in 1957? An online timeline showed that before Buddy Holly and the Crickets went to the top of the charts with “That’ll be the Day” in February, Wham-O introduced the first Frisbee 13 January. For some reason, this piqued my interest.

If you’d like to know more now, click here for the History of the Frisbee.  

Doug and plastic



31 October 2014

Published October 29, 2014 by rochellewisoff

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Blue Ceiling FF


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Below is the PHOTO PROMPT. Sit a while and study it. Does it tell you a story? Share it in 100 words or less.

There is only one PROMPT.  Any sketches or photos following my story are meant to be illustrations for it. 

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 98


            “Your stepfather’s in this chair,” says Dr. Rice. “Talk to him.” 

            “I can’t. It’s empty. He croaked twenty years ago.” 


            I sit in the chair opposite my ‘stepfather.’ “You filthy pig.” 

            “Good start.” 

            “I’m glad you’re dead…Daddy.”  

           In that moment I’m thirteen. Just as he’s done since I was seven, he slips into my bed. I wrestle from his grasp. 

            “How did he die, Natalie?” asks Dr. Rice. 

            “I don’t remember.” 

            “Yes, you do.” 

            “I…” My hands sweat and shake. “I used his gun.” 

            “Tell me.” 

            “I’d do it again. He stole my life. I took his.” 




ORIGINAL ARTWORK - copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Not the Photo Prompt. ORIGINAL ARTWORK – copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Keep it Legal


Originality is the Art of Concealing Your Source…Or is it?

Published October 28, 2014 by rochellewisoff
Framed Swans

ORIGINAL ARTWORK Copyright- Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Framed Opo

ORIGINAL ARTWORK Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Not too long ago I read an article by a blogger who had used copyrighted photos without permission. What seemed perfectly innocent to her resulted in ugly legal repercussions. 

It’s so easy with social media to pick out images as if they were free samples in a candy store, isn’t it? 

From the other side of that fence, I’ve used some of my original sketches or snapshots to illustrate particular stories.  Imagine my surprise when, more than once, these showed up on another blogger’s page.  

My friend and fellow author Marie Gail Stratford recently shared important information for all of us who blog and or use social media. Click her name to read and be educated. 



24 October 2014

Published October 22, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Flowers from the Hill Thoreau

Erie Canal

FF copyright banner final

The next photo is this week’s PROMPT. What kind of a story does it tell you? Tell the rest of us in a hundred words or less. 

My story follows the prompt and the blue  inLinkz frog. I appreciate  honest comments.

:D This week marks my second anniversary as your fearful leader. My first story as facilitator can be found here. Thanks to all who write, submit photos and support me week after week. I’m looking forward to a third great year.   :D



 *Note: There is only ONE PHOTO PROMPT.  Any photos or artwork following my story are meant to go with my story. Period!

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100


            A winter wind blew across the pond. Trina huddled close to Brian on the bridge as a flock of ducks fought for the breadcrumbs he threw.

            “Remember our wedding?” he asked. “Flowers in your hair. This same park.”

            “Forty-five years ago.” She shivered. “In June.”

            “I read where a pair of swans in England divorced.”

            “I thought they mated for life. What happened?”

            “Failure to breed.”

            “Are you saying you want a divorce because we couldn’t…?” She held her breath.

            He smiled and took her hand. “Let’s go home, my beautiful swan…”

            With love and affection, Trina whispered, “…and practice.”


Framed Swans

ORIGINAL ARTWORK. Copyright- Rochelle Wisoff-Fileds. Use by express permission only. Thank you.


Published October 20, 2014 by rochellewisoff


            This past year has not been the best year for my car. In fact I’m beginning to think it’s the incarnation of the Li’l Abner character with a cloud over his head. Remember him? For those of you who don’t…never mind.

            In the midst of our frigid Missouri winter, my Chevy Cruz’s heater went out. So it spent some time in the shop. Due to the lack of a small part that had to be ordered my car was MIA longer than expected.

            My joy at being back in my little car was short lived. The day after getting it back it died in the parking lot after work. This time it had to be towed to the dealership but not before I spent an hour in the car keeping warm and bandying words with the dingbat at the dispatch center. It seems she sent the tow truck driver to Lee’s Summit, Missouri when I’d specifically told her I was at 23rd and Lee’s Summit Road in Independence, Missouri.

            After another week in the shop, my car was returned in perfect working order. End of story? I wish.

            About a month ago, on the way to work, a deer on a suicide mission ran out in front of me. While I was shaken by it, I wasn’t hurt and the car was drivable. Thank God for insurance and a $100 deductible.

Front end after hitting the deer.

Front end after hitting the deer.

     A week ago last Thursday we were on our way home from an event when the driver of an SUV decided he needed our lane on the freeway as well as his own. He sideswiped us and barreled down the road not so gently into the rainy night.

            Of course, the car’s back in the shop. Because we filed a police report and it’s a clear case of hit and run it won’t count against us on our insurance. I’m also grateful to be here. It could’ve been so much worse.

            My story doesn’t end here.

            I’m part of a dying breed of people in the United States who prefer a standard transmission as opposed to an automatic.

            It wasn’t always so, but circumstances thirty-five years ago dictated.

            When Jan taught me to drive a stick he assured me coordinating my left foot and right hand would become second nature. I had my doubts as I popped the clutch and bounced down the street like a rubber ball.

            It happened as he said, though not overnight, it happened. Since then every car, I’ve owned has been a standard. 

            Ever hear of a loaner car with a standard transmission? I shouldn’t complain, right? It could be worse. At least I have a car.

            An automatic requires intense concentration. When coming to a stop, my left foot trembles and my right hand wanders aimlessly. More than once I’ve slammed both feet on the brake and nearly catapulted myself through the windshield.  

            Tonight, I hope, my car’s coming back home, with luck, slightly worse for wear and virtually unwrinkled. I might take her for drive to experience the sheer joy of downshifting to a stop.

            I hope my brake lights work.



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