Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


Dale’s Broken Door.


‘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.


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.
When I am ready, I’ll walk along the beach and join you.

If the Boots Don’t Fit.

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers.


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


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.”



Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers




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


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

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


Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

js-brand-tree ONE



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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Inside a Tardis


Copyright Roger Bultot

Inside a Tardis

Holmes’ face lit up with joy, I wished he would calm down.
We had followed the hooded woman into a rusted police box, its door slammed and locked itself. We were trapped.
I was terrified and couldn’t make sense of the scale or the magnitude. Overawed with the illusion, I trembled as an overwhelming spiritual awakening struck me; had we stumbled into a secret dimension of our universe?
‘We have her’, said Holmes and he lit his pipe. He strode around, incoherent as he puffed. ‘The end of beginning has no end.’
Madness, the reason he needs a Doctor.

Friday Fictioneers.


The Butterfly Stone


I don’t usually read YA fiction, perhaps I should. This was an interesting read and in many ways it reminded me of watching Scooby Doo, it was fast paced and full of compounding conflict and tension. I placed a review on Goodreads and Amazon to show my appreciation for the author’s hard work.

The Magic of the Stones.

The Butterfly Stone – Laurie Bell

Tracey Master is like any other 15-year-old, she worries about her school work, has teenage crushes on boys and a supporting group of friends. She works part-time in the office of her Uncle Donald (Donny), a Private Investigator. The administration is boring, and she craves the excitement of being involved in a real live detective case. The opportunity arises when Miss Tearning hires the services of Uncle Donny to trace a piece of missing jewellery. The recovery of the necklace, the Butterfly Stone pendant seemed an easy task and Miss Tearning’s ex-lover is tricked into handing over the necklace. However, Miss Tearning goes missing and Tracey is left with the item, which attracts an unsavoury group of thieves; the Shadowman and a Red Masked magician.
This all seems like a straight forward criminal investigation, however Tracey and her family, including Uncle Donny, are not Normal – they have magical powers (Mage). They battle with their adversaries who have magical powers and are on an evil quest to own the Stone.
Tracey, her friends and Uncle Donny are drawn deeper into the mystery of the stone and each step towards understanding its powers becomes fraught with dangerous consequences. The seriousness of the situation involves the police and Agents from the M-Force to unravel the case and to stop the Shadowman from his plans.
The search to understand the significance of the necklace leads to Tracey’s ancestral history and links her directly with the power of the stone, the power the Shadowman wants to own. This puts Tracey in mortal danger and her craving for excitement becomes overwhelming full of conflict and insurmountable challenges.
I found this a fast-paced novel, almost a race to uncover the mystery that incrementally adds more intrigue as well as danger for the Mage. The need of having to attend school in between the investigations, I thought added the right mixture of teenage secrecy verses adult concern and control. Later, as the whole complexity of the situation emerges the adults do become threatened by the consequences of Tracey’s actions.
I enjoyed this YA novel and its style of internal quips from Tracey and text messaging between her friends as it captures the inflated confidence of many young teenagers.
For those who enjoy YA novels with a teenage girl as the heroine, I would recommend this as an enjoyable and exciting read.