The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Mama’s words echoed in Sister Benedicta’s memory. “Edith, how can your turn your back on your people this way? To be baptized is an outrage! You are a Jew.”
“Our Lord Jesus himself was a Jew.” Edith had calmly replied. “I am still a Jew.
The Nazis agreed and forced her to pin a yellow star to her habit.
It boggled her mind that anyone could be so cruel.
The gas chambers of Auschwitz loomed before her. Her sister Rosa wept at her side.
Putting an arm around her shoulder, Sister Benedicta whispered, “Come, we are going for our people.”
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Happy May, Everyone! It seems whatever issues WP has had with sign ins and commentors continues. I had a few comments from Annonymous last week. I noticed also that I’m not the only one. A few times I’ve had to sign back in to leave a comment. It is rather irritating. If you could leave your name it would be helpful. Thank you.
Genre: Coming of Age Word Count: 100
MUZAK TO MY EARS
In my teens I was a raving Beatles fan. Oh, the memories each of their songs evokes from different stages of my adolescence.
I still have my collection of vinyl 45 rpm records. Not familiar? Look them up. No time to elaborate in one hundred words.
One afternoon my mother came into my room as I was rocking to “I am the Walrus.” With a disgusted look she said, “You only tell yourself you like that dreck.”
Seriously I still love the crazy cacophony.
Imagine my surprise the other day when I heard it as background music in the supermarket.
***********
Last Dance With Annie, by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, will be available June 4th in paperback, hardcover, and ebook. Preorder on Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and more!
“Much flows through the pages of “Last Dance” and all of it is worth reading. In this well-written, poignant story, Wisoff-Fields offers the reader a front row seat into less-spoken-of and rarely seen realities of lives weighted by years of expectation, exploitation, secrecy, trauma, and turmoil; but also to the powers of love, truth, and creativity to offer healing and feed hope. As Elise and those around her lose, then seek to find their step, we weep with, cheer for, and dance with them. Hurrah, Rochelle, for a story well told!”
Na’ama Yehuda, MSC SLP (Author: Communicating Trauma, Emilia, Outlawed Hope, Apples in Applath)
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
We couldn’t afford for Mama to have her baby at the white clinic, so Daddy hired Miss Coley.
“I ain’t lettin’ no dirty colored woman touch me,” said Mama.
Daddy shrugged. “Ain’t no choice, Maybelle.”
When Miss Mary came, she patted my head. “Look at them purty blue eyes.”
She arranged her birthing tools on newspapers. Then she scrubbed her hands. “Everything gotsta be extra clean.”
Miss Mary sat with Mama all night until my baby brother was born. Two years later, even though times was better, Mama wouldn’t trust nobody else to bring my baby sister into the world.
I couldn’t resist using the title. It just seemed to fit. You can read more about Miss Mary HERE
You can watch the 1952 documentary about Miss Mary HERE
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Last Dance With Annie will be available June 4th in paperback, hardcover, and ebook. Preorder on Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and more!(click “more” for four more places to preorder. :D)
Here’s an installment of an interview I did for Ozark Hollow Press:
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
The following is admittedly a seven-year-old rerun. I’ve been extremely distracted of late and didn’t feel I could get away with another “my muse didn’t show up story.”…which she didn’t. 😉
Genre: Historical Fiction Word Count: 100
FAMILY TREE
“‘And they lived happily ever after.’” Leah shut the storybook.
Shifra’s raisin-brown eyes, round as bottle caps, sparkled. “Bubbie? Did you love Grandpa at first sight?”
“He was only eight when we met. Mama took him in…hid him from the khappers, bad men who snatched little Jewish boys from their homes and made them serve twenty-five years in the Czar’s army.”
“Did she hide him in the closet?”
“No she was smart, my Mama.”
“He was like your brother, right?”
Leah pointed to a tintype on the table of two little bonneted girls and grinned. “More like my sister.“
*****
Below is my first attempt at creating a reel on Canva and posting it to Instagram. It works on my end if I click the picture. Let me know how it works for you.
The ebook can be preordered HERE, HERE and HERE! Release Date is June 4! If you’re not an ebook fan, paperback and hard back copies will be available on and after June 4! 😀
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Who chose this prompt anyway? Oh, yeah. I have only myself to blame. Not only did I post this photo, I snapped it as well. It’s one of those cute little shops in the Cotton Exchange in Wilmington, North Carolina.
One would think, given the place’s rich history, I could find something to write about.
Lemme see. I could write about the Chinese Laundry that resided there in the early 1900s. Or what about the barber shop that was destroyed in a fire? Nope. Google’s leading me nowhere and my mind’s stuck in neutral.
Sorry, y’all. Nothing to read here.
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WE HAVE A BOOK!
LAST DANCE WITH ANNIE is still set for release June 4th. But this past weekend I received two hardback author copies of the book at our Ozarks Writers League conference. My publisher had a few advance copies for sale as well. 😀 The first autographed copy goes to my husband. 😉
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
“It’s time to clean this cluttered basement.” Stacks of boxes from our last move wait on shelves to be gone through—later.
Opening a cardboard box, I sneeze at the musty odor. I pick up a tattered paperback and thumb through its yellowed pages.
Bunnicula.
How my now-grown son and I laughed at the antics of the family pets. I lose myself in the adventures of the dog, cat and, of course, the titular vegetable-sucking vampire rabbit.
“Look at the time.” I return the novel to the box. “I’ll get back to cleaning—later.”
Note: Bunnicula was a fun read. And my story is true. I really could use some organizational help here. 😉
And on the subject of books:
My book LAST DANCE WITH ANNIE is available for ebook preorder on the following sights: HERE, HERE and HERE! Release Date is June 4! If you’re not an ebook fan, paperback and hard back copies will be available on and after that date. 😀
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Standing on the ship’s deck, Marissa enjoyed the warm sea breeze and glittering city lights as they approached the famous bridge.
Her boyfriend’s breath heated her neck. “Marissa, may I ask you a question?”
“David, can’t it wait?”
“No.”
She turned to see he’d dropped down on one knee, holding an open velvet box. The diamond sparkled. Her heart thumped.
Two years later, cradling her infant son, her heart thumped as the image of that same bridge collapsing into the Patapsco River crossed her television screen. Her stomach sank with it. “David, come see this!”
And for the good news! My book LAST DANCE WITH ANNIE is available for ebook preorder on the following sights: HERE, HERE and HERE! Release Date is June 4!
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Here it is! The official cover of LAST DANCE WITH ANNIE, due out sometime in May or June. The poem in the following story is the beginning of the book and one that I actually wrote when I was in the midst of the battle.
Genre: Non-Fiction Word Count: 100
HIS SUCCESS STORY
The Dancer
The steps used to
Be simple,
Every leap and turn;
Graceful, exultant dance.
But now
Annie leads me to murky depths
Of despair
And
Threatens,
In the most literal sense,
To devour
Soul, spirit, and body.
I’m tortured by
Pain on the faces of those
Who care.
Helpless to halt this
Insane choreography
I seek resolution
Via self-destruction.
After reading my poem, Wayne asked, “What do you hope to accomplish by starving yourself to death?”
“They’ll be better off without me.”
*****
In Memory of Wayne Clinton Witcher, my ever-patient therapist. I will always consider myself your success story.
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Sean eyed the pink meat mixed with potatoes and cabbage on his plate. “What’s this? Sure it’s not bacon.”
“Rachel Weinberg at the Kosher butcher shop suggested using this instead. It’s called corned beef.” Mary cut up small pieces for Baby James. “It’s ever so much cheaper than bacon. Rachel says it’s good on a slice of rye bread.”
Sean popped a forkful into his mouth. He savored the salty meat on his tongue and grinned.
With her hands on her hips, Mary arched a thin eyebrow and asked, “Well?”
“A slice of heaven, me bride. A slice of heaven.”
*Who nu? The traditional St. Patrick’s Day fare tht’s delicious all year round has Jewish roots. So Shalom and Begorrah!
And for the fun of it, here’s the LINK to a related story from a few years back. Enjoy the read. 😀
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.