Friday Fictioneers – I’m Holding My Own

No news, just Fictioneers:

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© Jan Wayne Fields

I’m Holding My Own

by Miles H. Rost

“Mitch, how long have you been living out here for?”
“Well, Sheena threw me out about two and a half years ago, and I didn’t find this place until the fall. I’d probably say almost two years now.”

The man took a long draught of his brew, looked around at Mitch’s “home”.

“And you like it here?”
“Yeah. I go to work for 8 hours, then come home to nature.”
“What about heat?”
“Sleeping bag, and if necessary, a good woman.”

The man took another long draw from his bottle.

“I have what I need right here. I am quite content.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Partners In Crime

(Author’s note: Have a happy thanksgiving, everyone!)

ceayrdoor

© C.E. Ayr

Partners In Crime

by Miles H. Rost

“This isn’t right.”

Phil Markowitz looked back, staring straight into the eyes of his best friend, Elena Katakova.

“What isn’t?”
“All of this. We’re trespassing, and we don’t even know where this door goes.”
“I do.”
“I thought you said you were never here before.”
“I did.”
“So then how…”
“I came from the other end of what lays behind the door.”

Elena scowled, as they moved the chain within the old lion pit at the zoo.

“Elena, get ready to have your socks knocked off.”

He opened the door, and immediately heard a roar. He shut the door.

“Weeeeeeeeeell… maybe not. RUN!”

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Friday Fictioneers – Kashmir (Sweater)

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© Bjorn Rydberg

Kashmir (Sweater)

by Miles H. Rost

Mark lifted his head up from his book, as he heard the sweet sounds of a cello waft over him. Within the confines of the coffee shop, this was a perfect sound at a perfect moment.

He looked around and spied the young cellist, wearing a beautiful white cashmere cable-knit sweater and a flowing brown skirt. She looked up at him through garnet-rimmed glasses and strands of wavy brown hair, smiling.

“So, I finally got your attention.”

“Cindy? Why did you want my attention?”

“You told me you didn’t like cellos. They didn’t rock.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m here to prove they can.”

The first strains of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” rose from the cello, and Mark instantly knew he was going to eat humble pie.

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Friday Fictioneers – Steppin’ Out

(Author’s Note: Thought things were going to be late due to the election and the results…but I was able to get them looked at, and was able to spend time. I think I should have time for more long-fiction coming up. We’ll see. Anyhow, here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

crook-roof

© Sandra Crook

Steppin’ Out

by Miles H. Rost

“How about this hat? Don’t I look good in it?”

“Honey, you look like one of the locals in that. It’s like you’re wearing the board from Family Feud on your head.”

“Oh, poo. You’re no fun.”

Christine Bakshri smiled, as she turned around and looked at the other hats in the market of Tashkent. Her beau, Henry, looked bored but was secretly enjoying himself.

“Henry, do you think we’ll ever return home?”

“We stepped out of the country for a year. Do we really want to step back in?”

Christine thoughtfully looked around.

“Naaaaaaah!”

They gave a wave, and continued walking down the market street.


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Friday Fictioneers – Missing You

(Author’s Note: My most recent work has been seen by a few people, but could use a little more viewage. 2300 words for a work that I decided to let run on it’s own. Go read “Hunters of the Night“, and see what you think. Otherwise, here’s the next Fictioneers for ya.)

jean-l-hays

© Jean L. Hays

Missing You

by Miles H. Rost

The new roads probably don’t fit my style anymore. Interstates everywhere, they say.

Can’t make your way in the city anymore, the cities are starting to crumble and fall. Egos everywhere.

Then there’s me. I sit along the road, waiting. Once in a while someone stops in, they take a look around or attempt to get inside, but they can’t. They’ll hop in their car and leave.

I’ll probably be around under the foundations crumble, until the weather takes its toll and finally does me in. But until then, I’ll stay standing.

Hidden landmarks are always found by those who choose to search.

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