Friday Fictioneers – Snow On The Sahara

(Author’s Note: First week of new job doing fine. Hope to be back to mini-story writing next week. Here’s tonight’s fictioneers, with a song from my own personal deep cuts collection!)

january-snowfall-nighttime

© Sarah Potter

Snow On The Sahara

by Miles H. Rost

The expedition was lost.

First, it was Mina. Then Charles. Packi, the Tunisian warlord. Finally, Julian.

The faces of the two that remained were covered in sand, fine particles of silica that stung their eyes.

“So, where do we go from here, O great navigator?” Marisa said, changing the towel on the back of her cap.

“Well, we should be heading close to the Chott al Djerid, but…”

Marisa let out a whoop as she felt cold hit her skin. She looked up, and saw dark grey clouds and white flakes falling.

“Can you believe it? Snow! We are close!”

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Friday Fictioneers – Three Of Me

(Author’s note: Starting next week, I will be taking a social media break. It will not impact writing, but contact on Twitter, Gab, and Facebook will be curbed for one month. E-mail will be alright, if you need to. Here’s today’s Fictioneers…)

broken-face-liz

© Liz Young

The Three Of Me

by Miles H. Rost

 If you could see what I’ve seen, you’d swear I was not normal.

I’m not.

On one hand, I see like a child. Innocence, virtue, trust, all in one place. One another hand, I see death, vindictiveness, the decay of the world. And on the third hand, the one never seen, there’s pain, deception, and even love.

Every slap a betrayal, every push a declaration of love, every tear a cry for relief and comfort. And each time I am asked the same question: Is it all worth it?

For these children marked from substance abuse: You’re damn right.

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Friday Fictioneers – The Colour of Love

(Author’s Note: Great response from people last week. Sorry I haven’t responded, but I am working on it. Now that a job has been secured, boomba…more time to do things. Here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

 

mystery-chair-ted-strutz

© Ted Strutz

The Colour Of Love

By Miles H. Rost

“Alright, Monica. We have only a few hours before tide comes back in. Think you can paint the scenery?”

Monica looked up at her teacher with her eyes full of worry.

“Monica, you’re going to do just fine.”

She pointed to the hulking dam in the distance and exploded her hands outward.

“No, Monica. The dam won’t break. Remember, I’m here with you. If anything happens, I got you.”

She smiled, and warmly hugged his waist. She picked up her palette and dipped into some Prussian blue.

Her teacher watched as she silently painted. He knew his daughter was safe.

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Friday Fictioneers – Sounds Of Silence

(Author’s Note: None! I am back to life, back to the writer’s gallery. I have 13 more months in Korea. Let’s celebrate with a story!)

roger-bultot-flower

© Roger Bultot

Sounds of Silence

by Miles H. Rost

It was a shock to the Garbarthian space crew when they heard nothing.

For 27 earth years, they were able to study and learn about its inhabitants and the various strange things that were around them. They had gone to sleep on the eve, waiting to see what would come.

There was no sound that next morning. Nor the morning after. They heard faint horns, faint chatter, but the small cactus they used as their listening device heard nothing.

For 11 days, they heard nothing. They went back into the playback to hear the last moment.

*click* BANG! *click* BANG!

Nothing more.

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