Friday Fictioneers – Cold River

(Author’s note: Nothing major. Still toiling on 10,000 words. Work’s getting in the way. Here’s today’s fictioneers.)

PHOTO PROMPT – © – Georgia Koch

Cold River

by Miles H. Rost

The winter came early for the people of Charleston-upon-Avonlea. Bitter cold came in mid-September, unannounced.

By early October, the river Avonlea had frozen over. 4 of every 10 people got supplies.

November came quickly, and the cold persisted. The river seemed to be nearly frozen solid. Attempts to do some ice fishing came up with very little except more ice.

The people were so used to doing their own thing, they didn’t ask for any sort of help from other places. They didn’t know how.

By the time the soft rains of April showed up, there was no one left alive. Even as the bustling village of Newport, 7 kilometers away, went about it’s own business.

Friday Fictioneers – Honeycomb

(Author’s Note: Getting busy. Getting my writing on. Boomba. Enjoy this song throwback!)

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb

Honeycomb

by Miles H. Rost

“Honey!”

Francine Jameson called out to her husband, waving her arms frantically as he rushed over.

“I found a great specimen! I think this old comb is one from the 1990s.”

Her husband picked it up and examined it.

“I think this is the one from when we first met.”

She smiled at him broadly. “I’m glad we came back here.”

He pulled her close and smiled. “Except this time, you don’t have 500 bees and a nest next to you, pestering you.”

“Well, if you didn’t save me, those bees would have got me.”

“And instead, it was me who got you.”

Friday Fictioneers – Reflections (on the Lake)

(Author’s note: Still working on the story. Been dealing with some things that have come up since. A little under the weather with a throat infection. Getting better, though.)

 

PHOTO PROMPT – © Adam Ickes

Reflections (On The Lake)

by Miles H. Rost

Paul Marcus looked over the lily-pad covered lake, deep in thought.

“Where did the time go? Not long ago, I was 24 and full of spirit. Now I’m 35 and broken.”

He looked at the small bobs coming up from the lake, stirring a pad or two.

He thought back to the opportunities that were there, that he missed because he was focused on one dream. A one track mind, and that track derailed a year before.

Sitting back in a chair under the shade of a gazebo, he looked at his watch.

12:15PM

“6 more hours until I need to be home.”

Friday Fictioneers – Somebody Put Something In My Drink

(Author’s note: No major announcements. Still working on short story. Taking longer than I hoped. But that’s cool. Enjoy an interesting story here.)

 

PHOTO PROMPT- ©Ted Strutz

Somebody Put Something In My Drink

by Miles H. Rost

Bud Murray was the oblivious barfly.

He was always at the end of Charlie’s Bar, drinking his riches away. And no one paid mind to him. It was the 1960s, no one really cared.

A dull-colored liquid in a shotglass perched itself in front of his lips. He sniffed. Smelled normal. He took it and knocked it back.

Within a minute, his shoulder moved. Then his arm. He started staggering around the bar, out of his mind.

That was the last thing he remembered before he woke up, tied down to a bed.

He looked at a nurse, and yelled the only word on his mind.

“COINTELPRO!”

Look it up!

Friday Fictioneers – Baby Baby

(Author’s note: Currently working on longer fiction piece, hopefully for publication. It’s a good one, but I will still be making time for Fictioneers. Here’s today’s piece.)

 

© Janet Webb

Baby Baby

by Miles H. Rost

The ambulances were splashing away from the parking lot of the movie theater.

Nearly a foot of water was in this section of the parking lot. An area with over a hundred guys walking around, dazed.

It was a special movie night, where pregnant moms got in for free with the purchase of a normal ticket and a concession box. What was not expected was the pain when the first mother walked out of the theater, followed by another mother.

Pretty soon, every mother’s water had broken. Over 100 mothers were taken to the hospital that night, after one of the worst rainstorms in ages.

It is still known to this day as the “Night of the Baby Flood”.

 

Friday Fictioneers – (They’re Coming To) America

(Author’s Note: Nothing. On with the show!)

PHOTO PROMPT- Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

(To Look For) America

by Miles H. Rost

“So that’s the beacon of freedom?”

“It was.”

The young girl looked off the side of the boat, seeing the burnt out remains of the Battery Park area from the boat.

“Was?”

“Didn’t you know? This country has long lost it’s freedom.”

The young girl looked up at her papa.

“But why did people lose their freedom?”

“Because they listened to the wrong people. And in turn, they let the wrong people get power.”

“Why are we going there?”

He hefted up his Bible and energy pistol.

“Transiens Adiuva Nos”

The little girl finally understood, as the boat slowly passed under a gaping hole in the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Everything You Want

(Author’s note: On With the show! ^_^)

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Everything You Want

by Miles H. Rost

He sat alone, his back to a bush, overhearing some of the young folk.

“I’m really pumped up by his ideas!”
“Yeah, he’s got this new way of doing things that’s really awesome.”
“I like our current one, but this new guy’s got fire.”

The young man looked out at the world, listening as they gushed. As they walked away, he sighed and looked out at the rest of the world.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked and saw a mousy brunette staring at him through stylish glasses.

“I still think you’re the best pastor, Pastor Bob.”

He smiled, as she walked away.