His Passion

When the bell rang, the other students rushed to start their weekends.

Joseph didn’t hear the bell. Absorbed in his work, he was in a different realm. He loved everything about art class. The smells of the paper, the paints, the solution for cleaning brushes–it was all part of every painting he produced. It was his passion.

He smelled the sweet scent of the flowers he painted. He felt the wind under his wings. His heart beat to the rhythm of the horses’ hoofs.

His dad waited, patient. He knew great things were waiting for his son.

A Moment out of Time


PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Jerusalem!  The Holy City!  What a wonderful place to be on such a glorious morning!

Seth shouldered his backpack and stepped onto the worn bricks, thinking, “What secrets these old buildings must hold!”

Pacing forward, he imagined the clamor of the mob that followed the horribly disfigured  man  struggling to stay upright under the heavy cross he carried. . . .

Suddenly, shouting, cursing, weeping, and taunting, people swarmed around him, elbowing him out of the way as they fought to keep up. All wanted to see  the crucifixion.

Seth snapped back to reality.  Lunatic or heretic?






Not Romantic at All


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I remember reading  Swiss Family Robinson and Robinson Crusoe when I was a kid. It seemed so adventurous, and tested the ability of those involved to survive in precarious situations.  Even Mutiny on the Bounty had a rather romantic ending, and being cast adrift seemed to be not such a bad thing.

Then I read a true story of some people whose boat was wrecked in a storm.  I don’t remember the name of the book, but I do remember that their experience was anything but romantic and adventurous.  It was a nightmare.  Once the rations that were stored ahead in the lifeboat were used up, it became nothing more than slow torture as they drifted to nowhere.

Hot sun, no wind, very little potable water; no clothing to keep their skin from burning, nothing to protect them from whatever weather they encountered.  A couple of them died, and there was even talk among the survivors about cannabalism.  They ended up voting against it, and simply dumped the bodies over the side.

When they were finally rescued, they were all hospitalized for a variety of ills. Some of them suffered terrible nightmares, and what we would recognize today as Post-Traumatic Stress.  None of them looked back fondly on their days together in an inflatable lifeboat.


I love the ocean, but not the idea of being adrift at sea.