Photo Challenge #363- The Power of Prayer

Use this image as inspiration for a poem or short story.

 Erik Johansson

It was so vividly real yet he was aware, in that dark corner of his psyche, it was a nightmare.
Jason’s Dad and older brother had each succumbed to their nightmares. Suicide was not going to be his rebuttal! This family curse was going end.

Jason decided to meet it head on. Each night before bed, he reminded himself that his stubbornness – once declared his biggest flaw by his ‘shrink’- would win the day.
The old mill clearly was a representation of his great-grandfather’s trade but there was never any water present. The drone of the dry wheel ‘eating up’ the Earth was deafening! Even within the dream, he held his head between clenched fists and screamed for it to STOP. Each time, as he fell into the abyss, he’d awaken hoarse and trembling.
Tonight… yes, tonight, he would not fall. He would not be afraid.

The sun made him squint as he walked the road to the mill. The big sky stretched to infinity in every direction… then he stopped. He felt an oddly familiar unease.
To his right, there was a solid mound and rooted long dead tree in the middle of the flatland. An anomalous formation for Kansas. Something told him to head for… RUN, to it!
He reached it as the earth shaking grind escalated and hung on to that tree with all his might while keeping his eyes trained on the Northern vista.
All he could think to do was pray like his mother had taught him as a child.
Then It began to rain and a river formed lifting him gently as he released his death grip.
He heard his mother’s voice just before he woke up.

‘For I will pour out water on the thirsty land
And streams on the dry ground;
I will pour out My Spirit on your offspring
And My blessing on your descendants;

The curse of his mental illness had been broken.


Photo Challenge #363 | Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie (

Friday Fictioneers 4/24/21- Terribly Revealing

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

“Hi, this is Jan from the Gender Studies department. How are you?”
“Fine. What’s this about?”
“We heard that you’re having a ‘gender reveal’ tonight on the canal. As a professor at our University, we strongly suggest you cancel.”
” Why?”
“We don’t believe your ‘reveal’ is consistent with our values.”
“And unless you cancel, we’ll have to reconsider your position here.”
“My decision to announce my child’s sex is a problem?”
“Its gender can’t be determined. I’m trying to educate you.”

That evening,Tracy joyfully learned she would have a daughter.
The University would hear from her lawyer.
(100 words)

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #113- The Keepers of Life

Two women of the remote untouched island prepared their offering according to ancient rituals.
The 37 fish were laid end to end before the eldest unwrapped the extravagantly woven pearl Orca Shawl, laying it over her shoulders, and proceeded to begin the ceremony. Each fish stood for one hundred years of worship. This was year 3799.
The honor of this task showed in their sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks.
They’d fasted for the last two days, prior to this most holy event, so some of their lightheadedness may have been from the lack of calories rather than the approaching Spirit, but they didn’t believe that.
The first Orca would be here before dark and the sun was already getting low in the sky. They broke into songs of praise to the God of Longevity who rides on the Orca as they migrate through this channel every year. The timing was always to the first day of the full moon after the Spring equinox.
The eldest men manned a boat near the mouth of that avenue waiting to signal the arrival of The Keepers of Life.
Suddenly the boat lit up with torches lining its deck!
The women tossed the fish, one by one, starting as the first jet black dorsal fin passed the sacred rock.
The leaders, and largest of the beasts, rolled on their sides studying the women baring wide toothy smiles of recognition, after accepting the gifted fish, then proceeded on their trek.
The yearly ceremony ended once the moon was directly overhead and the ocean had turned to glass.
As the lookout ship escorted the women home from their rocky post, the eldest carefully rewrapped the shawl that her great grandmother had worn for the very first ceremony of The Keepers of Life.

Flash Fiction Challenge – This, That, and The Other (
Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #113 – This, That, and The Other (

Friday Fictioneers- Shower Power

PHOTO PROMPT © Anne Higa  

There’d been a BIG problem with frequent flooding near the end platform of the subway.
The maintenance team finally busted down a wall, where the water was heavily seeping in, finding a one story shaft to an alleyway above.
Inside the shaft were soaps, shampoos, and neatly folded towels in a bucket connected to a pully.
The water spilled freely, with every rainstorm, from a cleverly constructed pipe leading from a building’s gutter system
A wooden fire escape ladder stood in the alley next to a sign:
Homeless Shower
Drop Ladder
NO singing unless the trains are running!

(100 words)
15 April 2021 | Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

Friday Fictioneers~ 3/26/21-Known Criminal

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Had she not waited for the cover of darkness, her presence in the neighborhood would have brought in the authorities.
She was an easily recognized opportunist.
Cutting patterns close to houses during the winter, was less perilous and more productive, but it took her longer to get home. Pilfering heavy prizes was strictly out of the question.
A motion activated light or two sent her running into the shadows but an open garage door was the perfect find!
She stealthily rummaged awhile then made off with some goods.
Her crisscrossing prints couldn’t possibly be followed.
All coyotes know that.

(99 words)

Dale’s Halo | Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple | Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #111~ A Passionate Undoing

The image above is from Celine Ylmz at Unsplash.

Peter couldn’t resist books, especially old books. Their musty aroma stirred comforting emotions and cherished memories of his father’s library where he spent most of his time as a homebound child labeled as ‘retarded’.
So, he wasn’t able to attend any traditional school, like his little sister did, because of what was actually an undiagnosed case of autism, but that didn’t stop him from exploring the world between the covers of books. Those were especially happy and secure years!
But, Peter’s adult life was not as glorious. Although he never left the security of that familiar environment, he hadn’t learned a thing about being social or dealing with a most hectic bustling world. He ended up only inheriting a house and a large collection of books. His grown-up passions encompassed solitude and yard sales. Those two things, and an insatiable quest for ever more books, were his eventual undoing.
Six years ago, his sister surprised him with a visit. She’d married and moved away after their parents passed. He hadn’t seen her in ten years!
She found him literally surrounded by stacks of books. There wasn’t one room or hallway where two people could walk side by side. An expert was called in and his home was declared too hazardous to live in. He was taken, against his will, to a special hospital and his property was disposed of. He was crushed!
But now, Peter has been determined ‘cured’ after those six institutional years and recently has found acceptance in a group home. It’s far better than that hospital and Peter has even forgiven his sister for what he once considered unforgiveable.
Although he is considered a recovering hoarder, Peter has found a way to still collect all the books he desires giving his new life a similar purpose as before. He browses antique bookstores every chance he gets. He enjoys that comforting aroma and delights in new titles. He just carries his phone along and takes photos of the ones he wishes to hang on to.

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #111 – This, That, and The Other (

Friday Fictioneers- 3/19/21


The red squirrel raced under the canopy of a tree into a preselected secluded spot and immediately transformed into its basic, but Earthly unnatural, design.
A wind was created as the alien sucked into being.
It immediately rooted its many appendages deeply into the soft ground to prop it upright in Earth’s imposing gravity.
Freedom from the shapeshifting ‘squirrel form’ gave Splogg a moment of peace that he was only allowed to exercise once a year.
He’d done this one hundred twenty-two other times and STILL wasn’t able to identify any sign of intelligence.
How he hated this frickcacking assignment!

(100 words)
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple | Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.