Category Archives: Blog

Let the Stars Decide

Friday Fictioneers -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

from-renee-heath

PHOTO PROMPT © Renee Heath

Let the Stars Decide.

Meghan steered the Pickup onto the road and accelerated away.
Last night they had watched the meteorite shower rain across the sky and spoke of romance and the future of the universe. Their future.
John and Jeff insisted a weekend away from all distractions, she had to decide.
She loved them both, but marriage! So insistent – John or Jeff.
Which one, they were both solvent, attractive and ideal, which one?
Damn it!
Didn’t they understand the meaning of a free spirit?
She buried her feelings with them beneath the tepee. Soul mates for ever.
Meghan sped away, free at last.

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I Knew You’d Wait

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

teds-car-in-the-woods

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

I Knew You’d Wait

It was all or nothing Irene, that’s what you meant to me.
Ted left with you, driving down the boulevard speeding, they said.
Years later, I’m told he died in a shoot-out in a Las Vegas bar.
Served my time; ten years for robbery.
I heard, Ted dumped you out in the woods.
Damn, you’ve aged, lost your mojo by the looks of it.
I’ve dreamt of this day, my heart weeps, I want to scream at the sight of you.
You’re beautiful, I love you. Is our secret safe?
Under those panels, I stashed ten million dollars.

 

 

Cracks

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

dales-broken-door

Dale’s Broken Door.

Cracks.

‘You expect me to walk the dog and wash up – again!’
She slammed the door on the way out.
What did I say?
‘Weight watchers?’ I shouted after her.
It’s true, always another class.
Jogging or swimming, gossiping. I’ve married a fat ghost.
I expect she’ll stay with friends tonight. Moody!
Sorry dear, the meeting ran late, the boss insisted on a couple of drinks.
‘There is always next month you know.’
She didn’t like that.
“Look – tonight,” she pointed at the calendar.
We’ve been trying, but this organised sex is so stressful.
Honestly, I’m not ready for children.

 

Shell Shock

Friday Fictioneers.

bokeh-priya-bajpal

Photo courtesy of Priya Bajpal

Shell Shock.

Each morning I walk along the beach and find a shell, just one, like you did. I wash off the sand and place it with the others, counting the days, I miss you.
I write a message on different coloured paper for every day of the week.
When I lie in my bed, I can hear you unfolding the notes and reading. Yes, I need you to understand how much I miss you, love you and care.
No one knows where you are, or what happened. We do.
Sorry.
When I am ready, I’ll walk along the beach and join you.

If the Boots Don’t Fit.

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers.

adamickes-childsboots

If the Boots Don’t Fit

A warm still day; they were a gift.
They hurt his feet, he had said, amazingly his hat fell into the lake.
He swam after it and from the other side he waved, not even goodbye.
How long should she wait? She had said yes; then he wasn’t sure.
She should have said no.
She heard he had a job in Kentucky, drifting with cattle.
Mary-Anne was two today, she needs a father.
How long could they wait? If only she had said no.
Tomorrow she’ll wed a loving man, one who fills the boots with honesty.
She can’t wait.

Murder on the Express

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

rr-tracks-at-harpers-ferryc

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

Murder on the Express

He saw her alone in the compartment and went in.
She was exquisitely beautiful, young and naïve. Her diamond necklace, those earrings and that fur coat would sell for ten year’s rent. He’ll take them in the tunnel.

He was handsome with a charming smile and looking for company on a long journey, she thought. Something was wrong, a premonition and itch in her new Louboutin stilettos.
The train rattled into the darkness.

At her stop, she wiped the blood from her shoe. Kissed his forehead above the blooded hole. “Goodbye,” she laughed, “what a shame.”

Abstinence.

 

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers

nick-allen-from-sandra-c

PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen

Abstinence.

Charlie’s allotment shed stored his tools and was shelter from the rain and cold weather. After planting and weeding he played bridge with his friends and the fun and laughter could be heard late into the afternoon.

Gran would laugh and say; “Hey, I am just off down Charlie’s.” She’d take her knitting basket. Everyone admired his collection of oil cans, particularly the little blue one with Gordons Gin and tonic. Martha liked the Martini from the green one or sometimes they drunk corn whiskey from the brown one.

Let’s go down Charlie’s. He, he. Life is really too short!

Underground Opera by Catherine

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

under-bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Underground Opera by Catherine

A free spirit and gentle voice, her echoes of joy
reverberated beneath the rumble of the motorway.
Its pillars tremble holding the stress of life’s loads.
Too much for her to bear, she had lost her way,
and in destitution she discovered our desolation row.
‘Catherine the Homeless’ sang opera to us; sewers of life.
We listened to her music of the night, by our flickering fire light,
and prayed as we cremated her body and earthly remains.
We scattered her ashes around the headstone on her swan song stage,
tearfully enchanted as her soul sang, through the midnight breeze.

For Them

poppy-50590_1280
For Them.

My Grandfather served from 1914 -17 and suffered lung damage from a gas attack. He survived the War but died later, a relatively young man in his thirties, as a consequence of frequent pulmonary illnesses.
I never met my Grandfather and my questions were pushed away with the reply;

‘We don’t talk about the War.’

Sometime ago, I wrote a short piece of fiction of one grandfather’s war experience as told to his grandchildren at Christmas. You may like to read it here.

The Lady in the Bauble

Wichtelmännchen

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

js-brand-tree ONE

PHOTO PROMPT © J.S. Brand

Wichtelmännchen

Lightning struck and burned the tree, and the village Shaman panicked everyone with his story of angry ghosts that must be appeased.
Johann was instructed to carve a Totem before dawn.
First, he rescued an owl’s nest with hatchlings and some squirrel’s kittens.
Tears flowed down his cheeks as he carved, he couldn’t finish before morning. Tired, he fell asleep. When he woke, the trunk was done with symbols from the lives of his ancestors.
An owl landed nearby; the carved trunk winked. Johann looked around at the other carvings, and he smiled, his little friends had been very busy.

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