Which Tree are You?

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers – 9th March

Which Tree are You?


Photo by Sandra Crook

“Come tell me, Louise,” he said, pulling her from the water. “What happened to you?”
“Oh, Grandpa.” She laughed. “What a beautiful house, is it heaven?”
“For some. Such a dreadful war.”
‘Like you.”
“Yes. I was wounded at Sommesous. It broke her heart.” He ruffled Louise’s hair. “Ah, my Madam Lilly de Vogue and her hospital, our noble home.”
“My Grandma?”
“Yes. She saved many lives, but for every hero who died she planted a tree.”
“Is she here?”
“No, oh no.” He laughed.  “She lives with her lovers in Marseille. I wish her well.”
“Which tree are you?”
“My tree is the Colonel Marcel Pinion de Vogue.” He took her hand. “Now Louise, what happened to you?”
“I couldn’t swim, Grandpa.”


Float Like a Butterfly. Sting like a Bee.

Friday Fictioneers –  2nd March Prompt

“Float like a butterfly. Sting like a bee.”

Twenty years ago, they carried Mikey out in a black bag.
A wasted young life.
We were just kids, dreaming of; “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee”.
I had won the County lightweight title, we were elated, but Mikey was pissed off and jealous. He exerted his temper by hitting out.
Our coach calmed him, but Mikey broke his nose. Mikey hit me, knocking a tooth out.
It was my skipping rope knotted around Mikey’s throat.
I DID NOT do it. The judge didn’t care.
The place looks the same, I’ve changed. “What a waste of a young life”.


A Friend in Need

100 Word Wednesday – Bikurgurl



Photo by Savs

A friend in need

Diane’s right, it’s lonely on that ranch by Alpine Springs.
She couldn’t ride in her condition; on the trail rounding up wild shorthorns around Badger Creek.
It sure broke my heart to see her cry when we lost our unborn.
Where the hell was I when she needed me!
Two weeks, branding them darn bullocks.
Burned my heart beyond despair as she told me, her pretty face all gutted up.
She’s a tough one, still I guess we need to mourn.
Tobacco Joe handed me one of his retriever pups.
Hope Diane’s still home and not left for Denver.



Book Covers – Really!

Book Covers – Really.

A great cover for a book is at the forefront of any publishers’ sales plan.  The professional design is produced with the aim to hit the market in the correct genre with author’s name, sometimes, highlighted more than the title.
Readers know what they want, and what authors they enjoy reading most, in which case it is the celebrity author’s name that is given prominence on the cover. Just a brief preamble leading to a question below.

Independent authors are advised to get professional work done in both editing and cover design that they can afford. Great advice – but stubborn old me just didn’t listen in this case.

I have had my short story collection, ‘The Listener” gone over by the edit process and ‘oh boy’, what a process. I am told it is very much better than the 2014 version.

I stuck with the cover with a small change – on the front cover font and back cover blurb.

I have done all this as an exercise in procrastination, if there was a medal or a university course for procrastination I would probably have gone for the PhD. I should be writing my novel instead, keep laughing.

The original camera shot.

Old Collection 113 (2)

Photo by James McEwan

I took the source photograph while on holiday in Dresden, Germany. I found it fascinating that someone or some people went to a lot of effort to paint the picture. I never found out who or why. I had not started to write back then and the idea of a book cover came to me many years later.

This is one part of the advice I did follow, make your cover unique. (I missed the effective part).
An advantage over using stock photographs is that I own the picture.

My first cover.


The latest cover – matte -done in MS Word. 1.6Mb version – Printed copy is 11.5Mb

Microsoft Word - cover The Listener 2018

Here are my questions:
Is the MS word cover good enough?
I am considering using GIMP and or Adobe professional for future covers.
Of the two covers above, which is better; to give prominence to the title or author’s name?


Muy Calientes

Friday Fictioneers! Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


Photo Prompt – J S Brand


Es muy caliente

A hoard of Mayan treasure – so much gold. The Professor was determined to register the find, his archaeological break through.
‘Our hotel?’ The Professor said,
Yea! The Henry Berrisford, perfect.
‘Rodrigo,’ he shouted. ‘What do you think?’
‘No hay aire acondicionado en.’
‘Cool and comfortable.’ I translated.
‘Las camas están llenas de chinches.’
‘The beds are soft and clean.”
‘La comida está podrida.’
‘Delicious food.’’
‘La putas son feos y cangrejos y la gonorrea.’
Rodrigo, just shut up. ‘The service is excellent.’
Shame the Professor will die of snake bites. Tonight.
Costa Rica is not too far away.



My Darling Morag

My Darling Morag – Only 100 Words


photo by Jacco Rienks via Unsplash

My Darling Morag

In a fit of magical rage, an act of indignant revenge, I cursed my darling Morag for her infidelity. I transformed my wife, whom I still love, into this docile bovine creature. She was once a beautiful red head, wild and feisty in her youth, see how she has matured to a tough and horny beast.
Each morning I stroke her head and I cringe at my rash decision – I kiss her sloppy nose and I promise, I will return to Hogwarts and complete my wizardly training.
First, I must deal with Angus. I’m thinking, perhaps a slimy fire-bellied toad.


Water World

Water World   100 word Wednesday – Week 55.


Photo by Danka & Peter

Water World

The salty air blowing in my hair tangles the thoughts through my mind.
These lurid dreams are intense, deeper than any enormous sea.
Today I learned my true identity, that among these rocks I was found as new-born Selkie, and over the years I grew like a human on the land, but without an ocean skin I cannot return to the sea.
I scream for help across the waves. Does my mother hear me and will she respond?
Please, I ask, bring a new skin so that I can escape this shore and claim my Selkie heritage.
Please mother, I’m begging you.



Friday Fictioneers


Photo by Victor and Sarah Potter


The Professor was irritated since his metamorphosis was taking longer than expected. Although, this was no consolation to the Parkers who were transfixed in fear by his hypnotic stare. Their home was a breeding ground for his venomous arthropods.
Not long now, the Professor reassured himself and spun another silky yarn from the light shade.
The consumption of human flesh excited him, and such terrified eyes. He would suck them first, then wrap the bodies in cocoons, as he had already done with the boy. He would have to act before the trance wore off. Oh, to be human again.



Three Line Tales, week 100.


Photo by Manu Sanchez

The evolutionary wheel of progress rules our lives
and we stroll hand in hand secure of our future.
And although putrid, weak, evil minds of anger stalk our world
We say to them – we will survive with dignity and human fortitude.