Friday Fictioneers – Vacation

(Author’s Note: More stories on the way, I actually have a few that I am working on. I just need to get over my day-to-day tiredness from teaching kids.)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Vacation

by Miles H. Rost

The waves rolled in off the Yellow Sea onto the rocks of Anma Island.

“Hey, don’t go too far out, Em. You’re sunburnt and dehydrated,” Dee said, a quick warning. Mick and Tommy were already in the sea, playing around.

“I’ll be fine, Dee. I just need relief from this darn hot weather.”

The September heat had baked them as they trudged through the overgrown brush. Happily, about late afternoon, they found a flat pasture to camp.

Em sat at the bottom of the rock bank, dipping his feet in.

“This…is bliss…” He said, just before a large wave crashed upon his clothed form.

“…or at least it was.”

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(Anma Island, September 2011, with other bloggers (including the proprietor of the Green Walled Tower))

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Friday Fictioneers – Sunday Bloody Sunday

(May 18th. A day that links Korea and America in two different events. This short mini-fic is one event.)

© J. Hardy Carroll

Sunday Bloody Sunday

by Miles H. Rost

“General, sir!”

The General, Chun Doo-Hwan, looked down at his messenger. The current leader of South Korea furrowed his brow

“Yes. What is it?”

“The Gwangju situation is getting out of control. The students are starting to march.”

“Did we get any news from the US Ambassador?”

“President Carter’s man said that they’re okay with the plan.”

“Then it’s simple. We get order back. Send in the Special Weapons Commandos and see if the students actually can stand up to them.”

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(All photos are copyright to their respective owners. No money is being made off these images being used.)

 

Friday Fictioneers – Winelight

 

© C.E. Ayr

Winelight

by Miles H. Rost

“The old city has changed since we got married.”

Jeanette Brunwick and her husband Gary looked around as they cruised down the middle of the river on their pleasurecraft. They returned to their city after 15 years away.

“Remember that the old cannery used to be right there,” she said, pointing to an area that now sat an arena.

“That was where I stole my first kiss from you. The first night we drank wine, and figured that we’d be sommeliers.”

“The winelight, the moonlight. And now it’s obstructed by baseball games.”

“You can never return home,” Gary said, sighing.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Bird On A Wire

(Author’s Note: Just when I thought things were stable…boom, changes at work. Better stories on the way. Give it time, and here’s another Fictioneers to tide you over!)

© Roger Bullot

Bird On A Wire

by Miles H. Rost

The claws gripped his ankles.

He looked down and tried to strain away. Feeling like he was about to tear free, he leaped.

Only to be pulled back in by the claws.

He trudged along, the claws never letting go. He could cut off his feet, if he so chose, but the claws would just latch onto his knees. He realized this, and finally did the only thing he could do.

He asked for help. He called out for help in the darkness.

A single pinprick of light shown through the darkness, and as that pinprick grew, so did hope…