Friday Fictioneers – Bandalero

(Author’s Note: Slowly working on getting to writing more. The problem is that when you’re rebuilding life from scratch, there’s not much you can do. So enjoy the Fictioneers until I can get myself back into a full writing spread.)

 

© C.E. Ayr

Bandalero

by Miles H. Rost

The clopping of the horse’s hooves on the ground slowed up, from a gallop to a trot. Approaching the main gate of the compound on horseback was the best way to impress The Man, in the mind of the rider.

Pressing the button beside the gate, the rider waited. And waited. And waited further. Slowly, a speck of a man started walking closer to the gate. As he arrived, the rider dismounted the steed.

“Are you Bobby?”

The rider nodded.

“Are you ready to teach my boy how to rope and ride?”

“Bobby” took their hat off, a long train of hair falling down to about the waist.

“Sure am, hoss. Bobbi Ann Jacobs is always ready to train.”

 

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Friday Fictioneers – What’d I Say?

(Author’s note: I hope to be up for new things soon. I got smacked around by a cold last weekend. I hope to do a lot more soon. Anyhow, here’s today’s work!)

 

© Jan W. Fields

What’d I Say

by Miles H. Rost

Sex.

It was all Marcus knew. It was all that oozed out of his pores. And as he sat at the piano, his back against the ivories, he looked like he was about to pop.

Sex.

It was also a big problem. He held the letter in his hand, frowning at it. 13 names, 13 women, 13 calls for more money than he could ever make in a year.

He turned around and looked at the keys. He needed to find an outlet for all the sex in his system.

He found it in C minor…

Friday Fictioneers – Silly Love Songs

(Author’s Note: I’m getting settled into my new place, and will likely have original stuff up soon. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers…a continuation of last week’s, in ways!)

 

© Amy Reece

Silly Love Songs

by Miles H. Rost

“Alright, we are here.”
“A set of steps? Why are we standing here?”
“It’s open and I want people to see this.”
“See what?”
“Remember the night of the Sydney fireworks?”
“How can I forget? You kissed me while I was talking.”
“But it was pretty good, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would, except I couldn’t.”
“Well, we’re on steps, you’re above me, and I am now kneeling with a box in my hand.”
“…”
“Will you marry me?”
She blinked.
He looked puzzled.
“Of course, you silly goose!”
“You have–”
All was silent, as he was given a scorcher of a smooch.

Friday Fictioneers – New Year On High

(Author’s Note: The first Fictioneers of 2016, and I’m doing something a little different: Unique name, same great music and fiction you’ve come to love and enjoy! Next week’s writing will come from Cheongju, South Korea.)

 

© Melanie Greenwood

New Year On High

by Miles H. Rost

“I never though I’d see fireworks like this!”
“You mean, from ten thousand feet up in a jet?”
“This was a great idea, Mitch. You really made my New Year’s!”
“And I would like to make many more of these with you. Though, if you told me 9 years ago that I was going to be taking my worst enemy from high school up in my own private jet to celebrate New Year’s above Sydney…”
“And who would have though that I would actually be dating my sworn enemy in the first place.”
“Well, Melinda, they say people who hate each other sometimes really have too much love.”
“Wish I knew that back then. Would–“