Friday Fictioneers – Lonely Town

(Author’s note: Sorry for the lateness. That’s what happens when you become more social. More writing coming soon.)

© Marie Gail Stratford

Lonely Town

by Miles H. Rost

The Diary of Cliff Jenkins, competent company worker:

Not exactly sure why the company wanted to have their meeting here. It’s the Korean thanksgiving holiday called Chuseok, and they scheduled the meeting in Busan.

Looking out my hotel window, it’s barren. Very few people here. Haeundae Beach has no people. The streets have nothing.

I’m waiting here for my compadres. They were supposed to show up 4 hours ago. I wonder if they got lost. I know that it can be a bit of a run down from Incheon.

And now the text from the boss, “Meeting cancelled. See you tomorrow at work.”

Well. That confirms it. It’s a lonely town tonight.

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Friday Fictioneers – Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall

(Author’s Note: Things are getting busy at work. It’s starting to go very strange, so I am going to do what I can to get ahead of things. However, I can’t say much more than that. Here we go, it’s Fictioneers day!)

 

© Ted Strutz

Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall

by Miles H. Rost

“Charlie, what the heck are you doing?”

“I’m putting a bunch of flowers out to line my yard. I want to make sure that people know I’m a man of culture.”

“But look at what those flowers are in!”

“What’s the problem, Virgil? They’re commodes! I’m doing my part to recycle!”

“Yeah, but it looks so cheap. What will people think when they drive by?”

“They’ll think that I’m resourceful and reusing the things that people throw away!”

“No, people will think your flowers are representative of you. Full of crap.”

“You mean like the stuff that fell down the side of your hill?”

“…you shut up.”

Friday Fictioneers – Old Coal Town

(Author’s note: Nothing. I have stuff going on that’s taking up a lot of time. Here’s our stuff.)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Old Coal Town

by Miles H. Rost

Abandoned buildings.

The smells of dust, must, and nature filled my nose as I looked at the back of the old broken building. It was a great smell, and something I love coming back to.

Coming back to this place, getting away from the big city, it’s incredible.

And being able to restore something old is a great chance to help the people of the town my father destroyed.

His actions killed the coal town aspect of this town, but I am hoping the fortunes I made in tech will allow this town to become great.

Time to give back what they gave me. Love.

Friday Fictioneers – I Won’t Hold You Back

(Author’s Note: A bit later than normal due to school conference. Here’s today’s fictioneers…and for the record, I’ve been really busy. Hence why it’s only been Fictioneers for a while now.)

 

© Emmy L. Gant

I Won’t Hold You Back

by Miles H. Rost

Marty looked at her picture. He sat on the park bench, tears slowly falling down his face.

He remembered the times they sat under that very bench. Holding, love flowing between both of them. He remembered just how much he loved her, and that he told her that it would be forever. He remembered the look on her face when she saw the ring, and when she wore the wedding dress that made her look so radiant.

He remembered those words he said, as she lay in that hospital bed.

“I won’t hold you back, sweetie.”

His last words to her. Cancer took over.

He collapsed. Openly bawling in the park.

Friday Fictioneers – (240 and) 242

(Author’s note: I’ve been a bit busy with classes and other things, but I hope to get myself back to posting twice a week soon. Otherwise, here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

© Sean Fallon

240 and 242

by Miles H. Rost

“Alright, Ma’am. What happened here?”

“Frankenstein just walked in, and suddenly I started getting hit in the face.”

The two officers blinked.

“And what did you do?”

“I did the only thing I could do, I reached for the jar, put my hand in, and started to throw. One right after another.”

“Did he do anything?”

“He started moving back, away from me, and that’s when it got lodged in his ear.”

“Then what?”

“I tased him.”

The officers shook their heads, and walked over to the unconscious Frankenstein.

“Sir?”

Frankenstein growled.

“We’re charging you with battery.”

“Grrrrrrrnnnnn.”

(Dig that funky bass! Abe Laboriel, everyone!)