Tag Archives: Friday Fictioneers

Huntress in Suburbia

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

Huntress in Suburbia

It always happens to me. Melissa kicked a bucket.
Ouch, it was full of sand. Had she broken her toe?
More rain to come, so the welcome BBQ was off. What will they think?
She had escaped squatting in a squalid basement flat, and after they took her baby, Ellen, away, inside she died. Her pimp, a weak drug dealing scum, had a fortune stashed beneath the floorboards. She put a mickey in his vein and left him to rot.
She bought into suburbia – clean and with a teaching job –an ambitious single woman out to trap a rich husband.

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Love from Lizard Island

Friday Fictioneers.

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Lizard Island

From the jetty, I watch the plane skip and skim over the lake. Its engine roaring as it lifts high into the Autumn sky, and like a migrating swan it glides southward towards a warmer horizon.
I suppressed my tears and wave a frantic farewell as pride fills my lungs.  Mary promised to return as she is free from our genetic abnormality.
She will confront the ignorant multitude to overcome the prejudice that holds our people quarantined on this island.
Other teenagers have tried, they never come home.
I stroke the scales on my claws and wonder; will she succeed?

American Dream

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Rockefeller Center.

Where do I start with this week’s prompt? There is a lot going on in the picture, from the tall skyscraper in the background, the ‘See No Evil’ statue, the food stall and to our security guard having a rest in the evening heat.
My mind wandered over this for ages struggling to find a central focus and I kept returning to thoughts of loneliness during a night shift. But what of the people who inhabit this civilised affluent world?

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The American Dream

‘How’s Li Ying doing?’
‘Chai, no sugar?’ said Mo Chou. ‘Li Ying, So proud, she in Medical College now.’
‘Ah Mo, your tea’s the best,’ said Tyler.
‘And your Alexis?’ Mo passed the drink. ‘You want, pretzel?’
‘She’s her dream job down Broad Street with Sullivan’s.’ He pushed his hat back. ‘And yea, her fancy shoes cost my Walmart check.’
‘You want butter or maple?’ Mo dribbled the syrup. ‘Li Ying soon be a doctor.’
‘Ah Mo, we’ve done well.’ He pointed his pretzel at the statue. ‘Our kids, them “see no evil”, but we know Mo. Yea we know.’

Is she coming?

Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Is she coming?

Wait by the plugs, she had said.
Where is she? My stomach tightened, and I strode around the display.
I looked at the tickets; the train leaves in ten minutes.
Her father; did she tell him?
We booked Gretna Green for tomorrow morning.
I saw her and picked up my bag.
‘Come on Aileen, let’s go.’ I took her arm. ‘Where’s your suitcase?’
‘John!’ She stood and squeezed my hand. ‘I can’t.’
Regret rippled down my spine.
‘There is no baby, and my –’ Her eyes were tearful.
A splinter of shame split my heart in two.


Why run away to Gretna Green?

Independence Day Parade

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Independence Day Parade

‘Marcel are you coming.’
‘No, not until I get nuggets.’
‘Get out from under the table. Do you want to see the parade?’
‘Yes, but I want nuggets.’
‘Don’t spoil the holiday, son. We’re going now. Bye.’
‘Wait! I want turkey nuggets.’
‘Mom’s already gone to watch the parade. Now come or stay.’
‘Can you buy me nuggets?’
‘Sorry son, Mom’s taken her purse.’
‘Dad, why do we always have to do what Mom’s says?’
‘Let’s go watch the bands.’
‘Okay. Will Mom buy the nuggets afterwards?’
‘Maybe. Just remember independence and freedom works better, if you’re nice to Mom.’

Infatuation

 

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Infatuation

The draft wafted a fragrance of jasmine across the counter: I looked up.
‘Carmen!’
‘Hello Joe, can I have one for the matinee?’ She fumbled in her handbag. ‘Usual seat, please.’
‘One? What’s happened to John?’
‘Please, I am in a hurry.’ She passed over the ten-dollar bill and grabbed the ticket. A silver ring rolled from her purse and fell behind the counter.
‘I’ll get that.’ I held it up as she walked away. ‘Carmen, your ring.’
‘Keep it, throw it. I don’t care.’
She slammed the door as she rushed out.
Yes! Tomorrow, I’ll ask her to dinner.

 

______________________________

This week I prepared a basic book trailer for my novel MISSING. It is on my author page, if you would like to watch it..

Author Page- James McEwan

 

The Violation of Sister Theresa

Friday Fictioneers -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

cloister-roger-b

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

 

The Violation of Sister Teresa

‘We have only one minute to reach the gates,’ whispered Angelina.
‘Take my hand,’ said Sister Theresa. ‘Am I too late?’
‘Please Sister.’ She took hold of her elbow. ‘Come on, the taxi is waiting.’
They shuffled along the path. ‘Please hurry.’
‘The little cherub is kicking.’ Theresa stopped and gasped long breaths.
‘Come on. Come on.’
The Taxi driver helped her into the car; they sped off.
Tears rolled down Angelina’s cheek.
The church doors opened.
‘You missed prayers!’ roared the Bishop. ‘My room now!’
No. I am not Sister Theresa.
She checked her chastity belt was locked.

The Trappist Zone

Friday Fictioneers

dawn-in-montreal

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The Trappist Zone

George, the transporter is landing.
Will I miss this place?
We did our best George, we must start over, a new beginning.
I feel a failure; all the destruction and greed.
Oh, George, remember the woolly mammoth.
Downhill since then. Where did we go wrong?
We gave them dreams and intelligence. Our experiment had potential.
Yes, we did very well, but should we just abandon them?
It’s too late, they are out of control; a self-consuming infestation.
George, the bag?
Yes, all human goodness, fully packed.
Think of our next creation; “Mensch”.
A perfect ideal; the Trappist Zone is ready.

The Return

News Flash – My short story Lilly-Anne has just been published on literally Stories a world wide short story site. Your views and comments are appreciated.

Lilly Anne – by James McEwan

*****

Friday Fictioneers   (slightly late this week, enjoy)

photoa

PHOTO PROMPT © Yarnspinnerr

The Return.

Shrouded in monsoon mist along the Chakkar Road, Jazlaan viewed the ruined and dilapidated house. Seventy years ago, Partition had driven her family away. 

Still, in the kitchen, she smelled the warmth of cardamom and cinnamon sizzling in ghee and heard echoes of children lamenting in Urdu. Dust, like Chapatti flour, covered over the floors.

Mould consumed damp walls, the moths her gowns. What wealth and chattels she saved were left to grandchildren now, or burned on her pyre. The silver blacken mirror on the wall reflected her joy as she brushed her gossamer hair. 

Her spirit was home.

Muy Calientes

Friday Fictioneers! Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

js-brand

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.