Month: December 2015

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Friday Fictioneers – Bright Eyes

(Author’s note: Happy new year, everyone! Here’s to your 2016, and here’s the last Fictioneers of the year. Hope to have more stuff in 2016 besides Friday Fictioneers.)

© Jean L. Hays

Bright Eyes

by Miles H. Rost

Eyes stared out of the window of the coffee shop.

The windows of the real estate office across the street were suddenly covered with darkening window hangings.

Half of the people in the coffee shop looked in shock, while the other half kept drinking their lattes like nothing had happened.

One person knelt in the street, looking into the eyes of their loved one. The loved one looked up, the energy in their eyes slowly melting away.

She called for help. Called for someone to call an ambulance. She looked into the eyes of the people in the coffee shop.

They all turned back to their coffee.

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Friday Fictioneers – You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet

Merry Christmas from Music and Fiction. More stories to come in the next couple weeks!

 

© Scott VanNatter

You Ain’t Seen Nothin’ Yet

by Miles H. Rost

“Now, Bobsie, stay out of the tree.”

My cat, the little furchild named Bobsie, looked at me with a blank state, before finally meowing. I took that to be a sign of acceptance, as I started wrapping my gifts.

I didn’t want a repeat of last year’s tree debacle, so I kept one eye on elusive Bobsie and one of my tape dispenser.

Things went swimmingly after that, until I finished with the last present, and threw the empty wrapping paper tube to the side.

I watched Bobsie leap from the table, catch the tube in mid-air, then cannonball straight into the tree. Half of the ornaments dropped, one or two cracking.

He found his way into the tree, and I am the one getting in trouble for it with my girlfriend, who just arrived home.

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Friday Fictioneers – Brimstone

(Author’s Note: I am currently working on some new story-work to add to the blog, outside of the Fictioneers realm, but complications with real life have decided to take over and cause issues. So I am not sure when I’ll be putting up more original longer-form work. But, give it time, and I’ll be able to have more for my audience to peruse. In the meantime, here’s a work that I hope gives you some peace over this holiday season.)

 

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Brimstone

by Miles H. Rost

“Mom! Come here!”
“What is it?” Mom asked her son, as he looked out the kitchen window.
“Look at the sky!”
“It’s beautiful, honey, but we see the sky all the time.”
“But Mom, look at the color! Don’t you remember what Brian told us?”
She thought back to when her eldest son was still at home.
“When the sky looks like brimstone, you know I’m on my way.”
She smiled, as she heard a familiar sound roll into the driveway, the exhaust of an old 1975 Harley.
“He kept his promise.”
She smiled, as she walked into the living room, awaiting her eldest son’s first hug in 8 years.

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Sour Girl

(Author’s Note: Things can change in a week. Currently, I am waiting for my visa number to be issued. Upon that, I apply for a visa and head back to teach students in Korea yet again. I will likely be gone by the end of December and starting to teach at the beginning of January. So, I will be back to writing lots of newer stories, along with writing other things that won’t be published here. Today, we have another fictioneers event that seems like it’ll be quite fun.)

© Luther Siler

Sour Girl

by Miles H. Rost

The crunch awoke Paul from a dead slumber. Grumbling, he walked down stairs. He nearly reached the bottom when he froze.

“Dad!”

Paul looked into his 16 year old daughter’s face, surprised that she found his old college mascot costume.

“Charity! How did you get that?”
“I found it. Now tell me about this!”
“Well, I went to a local college here. You know it as the big university now. Our mascot was a yellow chicken. I did this to help pay for my tuition.”

Charity flipped her hand, knowing there was more.

“It was also the costume I wore when I first met your mom.”
“And there we have it.”
“She didn’t like it. She was a sour girl the day that she met me…”
“And how many years now?”
“19 wonderful years…”


(R.I.P. Scott Weiland)

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Friday Fictioneers – Fellowship Hall

(Author’s note: I am currently in the beginning stages of transition from Australia to my next assignment, which will be in…I actually do not know where. We’ll see what happens. Here’s today’s Fictioneers offering, again not based on a true story.)

 

©Roger Bultot

Fellowship Hall

by Miles H. Rost

20 years.

Everyone was finally together. All 85 of Mitchell High School’s class of 1995. And the stories were flying.

“Do you remember Joan Snart? Apparently, she’s directing adult films in Hollywood.”
“Can’t be anything like my ex-boyfriend, Russell Graves. He’s the undercarriage cleaner for Greyhound in Seattle.”

The laughter was palpable, and the stories continued. That was, until the name was brought up.

“Anyone heard from Brian McLaurence?”

The entire place had become silent at that instant. The class looked at each other, and bowed their heads.

“Robbery,” someone said, “I was on duty. I found him. Died on scene.”

A sniffle started the flow of tears in the room.