Tag Archives: Relationships

Missing – A Draft Novel

Microsoft Word - Kindle 4 Missing

Missing –Read the first chapter – here.

When Laura was three years old, she was dragged away from her garden swing and taken into care. This experience created feelings, as she grew up, of being abandoned and unwanted by her mother.

As an adult, she contacts a librarian in the village where she was born for assistance in tracing her relatives. She ignores an anonymous warning to stay away.

In Russet House, she finds photographs of her mother, and from newspaper cuttings hidden in the attic she reads about a horrific event.

Laura is shocked by the tragedy and with the help of a retired detective is determined to solve the mystery. However, their investigation unsettles those close to Laura who advise her to let the past rest.

Laura had come to Kirkindale to find her mother, instead she discovered her identity was a lie.

****

I have completed thirty seven chapters of the book and I am on the third editing cycle. (Will I ever finish?). The book cover is also a draft.

Comments welcome – the good, the bad and the ugly – my skin is thicker than an elephant’s.

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BURN! BURN!

Friday Fictioneers – Rachel Wisoff-Fields

bonfire-anshu.jpg

PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

Burn! Burn!

I got the book, ‘How to Declutter’.
My memories too precious for the charity shops, I prayed and heaped them on my bonfire.
Good riddance I thought, there is no turning back now.
I felt elated and mentally free from all those things. You know all the stuff which you said we really, really need, but never did.
Victoria’s secrets still in their packaging. Celebrity Cook books. Tons of clothes, once worn gowns. Shoes. Photographs from the wedding. Files and files of solicitors’ letters.
Burn! Burn!
I cleansed and purified my home, mind and soul.
Hell! I still miss you.

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.

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.

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!

For Them

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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

Ayla – Moon Glow Girl

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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PHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner

Ayla – Moon Glow Girl

Mary Anne wrote up her diary notes, on the corner of the page was a little face. She smiled watching the full moon rise over the hill, an omen that sent tingling down her spine. The thermometer, from under her tongue, was one degree higher, a perfect BBT.
She would call her baby Ayla, a ‘moon glow’ girl. She must get David in the mood with a warm meal and soft music, lately he was stressed by the street riots and police murders.
Make him forget and relax.
The moon rose higher, he was late; please David return home safe.