Tag Archives: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

What About The Bob?

the bob

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

“Not this one either, Lilly,” Martin complained. “This isn’t a person, just some building.”

“You wanted a bob,” said the virtual avatar.

“As in haircut, not a…” He consulted his heads-up menu. “Big Old Building.”

The immediate environment shuffled through a series of images like cards.

“You didn’t like Hailey Bieber, Jenna Ortega, Zendaya, Megan Thee Stallion…”
“Megan Thee Stallion, yuck,” spat Martin. “1920s. I said I wanted a VR simulation of an actress from the 1920s…”

“…I know,” said Lilly “…bob haircut.”

“Wait. That’s her!”

“Louise Brooks,” said Lilly. “Yes, she’s rather fetching.”

“Run her first movie for me.”

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We’ll Come Back To Wake You Up

graveyard

PHOTO PROMPT – © J Hardy Carroll

“Where are we, Sarah?” Five-year-old Emily sat in the grass with her best friend from kindergarten.

“The old graveyard,” said Sarah. “It’s where you find dead people.”

Emily’s mouth gaped. “You mean like my pet turtle that Mommy buried in the backyard?”

“I mean like Great-Grandma who was so old she didn’t know her own name anymore.”

“She’s under here?” Emily touched the flat stone.

“They’ve been dead lots longer,” said Sarah.

“Are we supposed to be here?” Emily looked to see if Mommy was watching.

“No, but it’s okay. We’ll sneak back tonight and wake one of them up.”

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Battle of the Pots

pots

PHOTO PROMPT © Jen Pendergast

“You are both fools,” sneered Potted Plant. “I’m the one she checks on daily to see if I have enough water. Look how my glorious green leaves adorn the kitchen.”

“Oh, shut up,” groused Electric Pot.

“You tell her,” said Other Pot.

“Whatever,” said EP.

“You think your coffee is better?” complained OP.

“Coffee? That horrible smelling stuff? It makes me wilt.”

“Quiet,” hissed EP. “She’s coming.”

“Who gets the water this morning?” whispered OP.

Marcia stumbled into the kitchen that fateful Monday morning after a long weekend of partying. “God, I’d kill for a cup of coffee right now.”

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Out of the Chrysalis

crystals

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

The crystals surrounded and penetrated me. It didn’t hurt, but I did experience the horrifying feeling of my very identity being drained away.

The corporations sold the government the idea that instead of changing the climate, they could change human beings to adapt to the rising temperatures and levels of carbon dioxide.

They told us it worked. They never said what it cost. The people behind “the change” were isolated from the crystals in underground bunkers. That wasn’t going to help them.

We did change. When we emerged from our chrysalis, we were far too deadly for them to control.

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Cut Down

stump

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Emory heard that you could tell how old a tree is by the number of rings in its trunk. He had no idea how to figure the age of the stump in front of his place. The city had ordered the beautiful shade tree cut down because it was a hazard.

Pity. He used to sit underneath it with his grandchildren and read to them. He played hide-and-go-seek with them behind it by never quite hiding. It had been his harbinger of winter and his herald of spring.

Now, like him, it was just a broken relic of the past.

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The Sins of the Son

Chateau

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

John Phelps stood at the entrance to the chateau converted into a prison and listened to his sentence read by the bailiff.

“…for the crimes of your son against his family you are to be imprisoned for the rest of your life. May God have mercy on your soul.”

John’s voice cracked. “When will I be executed for I deserve death.”

“No execution,” said the bailiff. “You will be sustained as long as medically possible. Every day, you will be read the details of how your son, the man you raised, terrorized his wife and children. That’s what you deserve.”

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A Finally Perfect World

Chateau

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Ali met Marie after her tour of the old French chateau. In ages past it was the manor or palace of the noble class.

Of course, no one could live like that anymore.

“Was it enjoyable?” Ali asked. He fanned himself. The museum weather simulation was too realistically warm.

“Enlightening, though a bore,” she said stepping into ersatz sunlight.

“Hard to believe people used to live this way.” Ali strode beside her toward the hidden exit.

“I’m glad our world is completely equitable, but let’s hurry.” Feeling an uncomfortable twinge of individuality, she walked faster toward the mental conditioning station.

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A Lasting Peace

fireworks

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

November was a cold month for fireworks, especially on the river, but it was a special day for Charles and his young bride Elizabeth. They held hands as they watched, bundled up as they were in heavy coats.

“It’s over,” she murmured. Charles put and arm around Liz.

“Not soon enough,” said Charles. “Poor Elliot.”

“My brother succumbed to the terrible influenza, not mustard gas or artillery shell.”

“He still died in war,” said Charles.

“But no more will perish as he did,” said Liz.

“Armistice Day.” Charles stood a little taller. “The war to end all wars is over.”

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Homecoming

david-stewart-house

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

“Home.”

Gerald had dreamed of going home for so long. He’d had an idyllic childhood. From the white picket fence, to the front pouch where Grandpa would swap tall tales with neighbors, to the family backyard barbecues.

He stood outside drinking it all in. His dress uniform was crisp, the duffle he’d been carrying which rested on the sidewalk had been light. Gerald tried to breathe a sigh of relief.

But he was sixty years late. Instead of coming home from Nam, he was still buried in an unmarked grave thousands of miles from home. Now he could only dream.

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The Patchwork Man

stuff

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“What the hell is this?” Matthew’s new eyes flickered across the macabre collection of “get well” gifts by his hospital bed.

“I would think it’s obvious, Sir.”

He called her “Big Nurse” but the woman’s nametag said “Louise.”

“I’m back from the dead and my friends send me crap?” He tried to sit up in bed, but morphine-blunted pain restrained him.

“Sir, you have no friends,” said Louise bluntly. “You’ve outlived them all. These are from your doctor.”

“What’s his problem? I pay him well enough.”

“It’s just that he doesn’t like harvesting your clones merely to keep you alive.”

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