31 October 2014

Published October 29, 2014 by rochellewisoff

South KC Sky Banner

Blue Ceiling FF


FF copyright banner final

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. 

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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

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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.


17 October 2014

Published October 15, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Snorkeling in St. Thomas

Undersea St. Thomas 4 Meme

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The next photo is the prompt. There’s much to look at. What do you see? Tell me in a hundred words or less. Then click the blue froggy guy after the prompt and link your story URL.

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 99


            When I was five my father opened our home to his widowed aunt.    

            “Why can’t Obasan live with her own children?” I whined and stamped my foot.

            “Pikadon took them,” said Chichi. “We are her children now.”  

            “But she scares me.”

            I soon saw past Obasan’s scarred face. Her stories delighted me. She taught me how to construct flapping birds and intricate shapes from colored paper.

            One night she lay down to sleep and returned to the source.

            Every year at O-Bon I honor her with mukae-bi, dance and sake.

            Her elegant spirit surrounds me like a thousand winds.








10 October 2014

Published October 8, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Pane iced Banner

Ellehcor Banner FF

FF copyright banner final

Below is the photo prompt for the week. What do you see? What do you hear? Tell me in one hundred words or less, then click the blue froggy fella and link your story. My story follows the linkz and prompt. I appreciate honest comments and constructive criticism. 

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100


            The boy stared out the window beside his bed and listened to his Alyn Ainsworth record. He tapped his fingers on the night stand in time to the music.

            Sentenced to the ‘greenhouse,’ a children’s sanitarium, he’d celebrated his fourteenth birthday with tea, boredom and Streptomycin. Yet, after a year of incarceration, the doctors still considered Ritchie too ill to go home.  

            “Join our band,” said a nurse. “Bring your new banjo.”

            “I’d rather play drums.”

            Ten years later Ritchie smiled over his drum set at a sea of screaming teenagers as Ed Sullivan cried, “Ladies and gentleman, the Beatles!”






3 October 2014

Published October 1, 2014 by rochellewisoff

South KC Sky Banner

Friday Fictioneers Bookshelf

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The following photo is the prompt. Does it speak to you? What does it say? 

My story follows the photo and the blue froggy fella. Comments and suggestions appreciated.

unidentifiable on a stick

Copyright-Kent Bonham

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100


            “You must practice an hour a day,” said Mama. “People will come from miles around to hear you play. You have a gift.”

            “I hate the violin,” I yelled. “I don’t want to be a musician.”

            Once Mama made up her mind she only heard what she wanted to hear.

            What choice did I have? I was only six.

            Eight years later Mama’s prediction came true. People came from miles around to hear me play. My music was the last thing they heard on their way to the gas chambers.

            Sweet music, the only color in Theriesenstadt, saved my life.

Author’s note for those who may ask  how I arrived at this.

At first glance, this photo said nothing to me other than, “Yuck. Where’s the story in this and why did I choose it for a prompt?” At second glance I thought ‘dead bird.’ Nah. Trashed lollipop? Okay, forget about the articles, what about color? I didn’t see much of that. My mind went to the Holocaust, a part of history I think of in shades of gray. (Not the racy novel ;) ) Next, Terezin, a town in Czechoslovakia that was turned into a ghetto and renamed Theriesenstadt came to mind. There the Nazis made a propaganda film to show the outside world their kind treatment of the Jews, when, in reality, it was a holding place on the road to extermination for most. My research path ultimately inspired me to write REQUIEM IN C MINOR. Thank you for reading.




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