Tag Archives: Short Story

How Great Thou Art

For my contribution to Friday-fiction this week I have made faith my central theme. Adversity strikes us all at the most inappropriate of times, and it is our faith that keeps us going. Faith and trust in ourself, in others and a better world – Smile.

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Other contributions this week – here

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields 

How Great Thou Art.

They have come! Carol fidgeted with the cross in her hand.
“Then sings my soul, my saviour God, to thee. How Great Thou Art.”
Surely, they can hear her. “Down here in the basement!”
She watched the crowd of feet; police and medics take away her captor, her abusive and weak-minded cousin. Her keeper.
Carol struggled against the straps in the wheelchair. “Down here in the basement!” She screamed through the gag.
She heard the vehicles drive off; the sudden silence speared her heart.
Carol’s sliver cross fell. “Lord help me today.”
Behind her, the lock turned, the door opened.

When I am Alone, I am Afraid

Post for Friday Fictioneers – go to the other stories using this link:

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

WHEN I AM ALONE, I AM AFRAID.

I can’t remember when I first noticed the little bird, a wheatear. When the telephone rang it appeared at the window and when I hung up the handset, I would drop some seeds or crumbs outside.
A bond developed between us and mutual expectation. The bird became my companion, and I was its source of titbits. We were creatures of habit, and the little bird became a great comfort to me in my moments of deep anxiety.
The bird will migrate soon, what will I do?
I wished the calls would stop, or at least whoever it was, would speak.

Mercado without Roots

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers – Other Stories here.

Mercado without Roots

Just another day at Hernandez Hermanos Mercado.
The gossips at the taco stand whisper – there is civil war between the brothers.
It’s about Isabella, rumours of a secret child in the convent.
Until Isabella Lopez returns to the village, Ricardo refuses to provide root vegetables for Miguel’s market stall, unless he denounces his love for Isabella.
Senior Lopez forbids his daughter to marry any of these ‘granjeros’ and has placed Isabella in the hands of the Sisters of Santa Cruz for safe keeping.
The Taco seller takes bets. Which brother will Senior Lopez shoot?
Will there be carrots next week?

Born Free

Friday Fictioneers

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Born Free

After the virus, only the state sponsored selected elite could procreate, and placed under medical supervision to produce fully formed immune humans.
For us it was a crime.
I collapsed to my knees. Grace was in tears, her body shaking.
‘You’re pregnant?’ I whispered into her ear. She nodded.
‘My cousin said . . .’
‘Yes!’ I held her shoulders. ‘We must go.’
We knew about the family escapees hiding around the north lakes; hunters exterminated those captured on the spot.
That night we navigated our balloon in a northward storm and prayed for our future and unborn baby in the wilderness.

Peace on Earth

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple – Friday Fictioneers – click to read more.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Peace on Earth.

I love the solitude of walking in the park; it reminds me of you asking to play ball with me. Afterwards, we grew in love sitting on a bench talking of brilliant futures.
I am alone tonight since Old Joe with his terrier are in the hostel. He once said the park was his kingdom of peace on Earth.
I believe him.
The snow muffles sound, and the crunch of footsteps are reassuring as I retrace my memories.
It has been years, but I can feel you holding my arm and see the snow sink with your footsteps by mine.

Constant Itching is Misery

This week I was inspired by Stephen King’s novel Misery.

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers

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Photo by Naama-Yehuda

Constant Itching is Misery.

My dermatitis was getting worse; a life of misery.
Martha, my treatment nurse, suggested an allergy to soap or detergent.
But which one?
‘I’ve read your book,’ she said.
She used solid ice cream to cool my legs – it was heaven.
‘Perhaps itching powder,’ she stated, and patted my skin dry.
She spread a foul-smelling ointment onto my chest.
‘That makes it worse. It stings!’
‘Painful,’ she said. ‘You mean like Elaine.’
‘Elaine! She is not real, it’s just a story!’
‘Maybe she is the reason for your rash.’ Martha rubbed in the gel. ‘Poor Elaine.’
‘Please stop.’ I screamed.

Meet Me by the Amaryllis

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisof-Fields

More Stories Found Here

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Meet me by the Amaryllis

Julie called and told me to meet in the Biosphere by the amaryllis flowers.
Don’t be late, her excitement was infectious. I suspected, she had great news from the fertility clinic.
I booked a table at Antonio’s for later.
Emergency vehicles blocked 5th Avenue and because of the long detour I was late.
Where was she?
The flowers were beautiful – I wondered if they would miss one for Julie’s hair.
I could say it had fallen onto the floor.
It’s not like Julie to be late, I checked my iPhone.
I read the news; three dead on 5th Avenue.

Evidence of Generations Lost

Rochelle Wisoff- Fields – Addicted to Purple

Friday Fictioneers – Additional Stories

PHOTO PROMPT © Mikhael Sublett

Evidence of Generations Lost

Grandfather died from the RAF bombing in Duisburg.
From his will, we owned the Einfamilienhaus; a ruinous shell in a wild garden.
We were delighted and began the renovation work with enthusiastic zest.
We found a painting in a secret room behind a wall. Imagine our good fortune.
“It’s a masterpiece,” the Kunthaus said. “Priceless and magnificent. Looted!”
And the skeletons?
Their descendants claimed the art and wanted retribution.
Were we to pay the price for our grandfather’s past?
Later, we discovered he had hidden and saved those poor people from transportation.
Why does thirst for revenge percolate through generations?

The Portal to the Future

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers

Read all the stories; Here – on inlinkz

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The Portal To The Future

This building is the architectural symbolism of harmonious and cultural coherence of Earth’s civilisation, the official view.

In reality, it conceals the Portal between the present and the future.

As the guardian I hold the key.

I am tired, and before my passing, I will reveal some dark secrets; nations will disintegrate into anarchy, and great men mauled to their death. Those people trusted me with their souls, and safe-keeping of wealth stolen by their evil deeds of injustice.  They abused the power of the future.

I have locked the gates and taken the Portal with me.
Goodbye.

 

Healthy Curiosity or Weird Paranoia

Flash Fiction for Friday Fictioneers – Read more here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Healthy Curiosity or Weird Paranoia

It’s my chance to read her diary.
She scribbles secretly every night. What does she write?
Why should I care?
Perhaps she makes notes about my impotency, I’m sure.
What is she planning?
A holiday, a birthday surprise? Notes to support a divorce!
Should I? Yes, I will.
She has such beautiful writing, something I noticed before we married.
Gym – met Danni. She’s pregnant. Tried to convince her not to terminate.
Ah! I know she craves a baby.
Booked into Prima Inn for Thursday. Bought my favourite undies.
John is such a hunk.
Who’s John?