PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Martha stood gazing out the front window at the park across the street. The deep cold of winter had settled in. At twilight, there was nothing inviting about the park. Cold, bare, and without the laughter of children, without any warmth at all, there was nothing to do there.

She glanced behind her at George, his nose buried in his newspaper. As usual. Few words passed between them these days, and inside, her heart was a cold and barren as the park. They’d just had their only conversation of the day.


“Reading my paper. “



Peace Offering


It had been a pointless argument. Again! Susie was discouraged; Ted was fed up. Neither of them knew what to do.

Susie’s jaw hardened. She always gave in first. Not this time! He could stew and pout forever. If only she could just walk out—but she did love him.

Ted waited. Susie always caved. This time, though, he wondered. He’d never seen her looking so adamant before. Hmmm. Something special was in order. He could not–would not–say sorry. But he could take her some Haagen–Dazs.

She melted under the bliss of the frozen splendor.

Do Exactly as You are Told!

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

“Don’t touch the fence. It’s electric. Don’t get too close. Don’t talk to the guards. Don’t ask questions. Do exactly as you’re told. Do not talk among yourselves unsupervised. No joking, laughing, or ribald language. Remember there are eyes and ears everywhere. Stay in your proscribed area. Eat when you are fed. No snacks. Sleep when you are told. No naps. Work until the siren sounds.”

Number 74659100001 whispered, to no one at all, “I thought this wasn’t going to be a totalitarian government.”

He never felt the electric bolt that killed him.


I need to apologize for not reading posts last week. I won’t bore you with the details. I will, however, do better 🙂

Back in My Day.. . .


I sighed as we pulled into the deluxe campground. I knew what was coming. Fred had been grumpy and silent during the drive. I was sure he was dusting off his speech.

“Back in MY day,” he grumbled, “We didn’t bring a whole HOUSE to go camping. We didn’t need fancy parks. We hiked, pitched a tent, started a fire, and went fishing. If you can’t catch your supper, you shouldn’t go camping. Camping is SUPPOSED to be rough!”

He droned on, and I checked out. Suddenly. . . .

“HARRIET! Did you bring the portable TV? And my special pillow?”

Image result for crabby old man

Color Him Alive

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Oma, who is this man in the picture?” Benjamin always, always had question.

“Benjy, it is my son, your father, Schlomo.”

“Where is he? I would like seeing my father.”

“Ach, Benjy, your papa is with God. Someday you will see him.”

“But why? What happened?”

Oma’s eyes filled with tears. Always, Benjy’s question brought tears.

“He died in one of the camps during the war, Benjy. Because he had a menorah. God knows how he got it.”

‘May I color him, Oma?”

” Benjy, color him alive.” Benjy set to work while Oma went to answer the telephone.