Friday Fictioneers – You Are The One

(No Author’s Note this time around. Enjoy! ^_^)

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© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

You Are The One

by Miles H. Rost

Arches. Too many arches.

Donna Argento never liked her ancestral home. The arches of the city made her feel like she was being led to slaughter like a lamb.

Until she saw the incredibly handsome man who turned down “Arch Avenue”, for lack of a better word, that is.

She couldn’t stop staring as he disappeared under the first of the 160 arches that comprised the street. And she finally told herself that she had enough.

A few minutes after he turned, Donna started walking after him. She didn’t care what fear might do to her, she was going to get her man, like the mounties!

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Friday Fictioneers – Let Love Be The Leader

(Author’s Note: Nothing. Chickenpox is running rampant in the schools here, and I have to be very careful now. Washing hands, etc. everyday. It’s annoying. Here’s today’s fictioneers.)

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© Ted Strutz

Let Love Be The Leader

by Miles H. Rost

Annika Lane peeked out from behind the tree, hearing the purr of the Shelby Cobra Mustang creeping close.

Once she saw it, she picked up her backpack and ran. Jumping in the window, she snapped her seatbelt and yelled “go!”

Tire marks were all that were left behind as the driver and his young lady blazed a trail as far from the area as possible.

“Where are we going, Luke?”

Luke Palumbo looked back.

“Somewhere were love will lead us. We’ll catch the ferry. Then drive until empty.”

She smiled, knowing their safety was a mere ferry ride away.

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Friday Fictioneers – Bambou

(Author’s note: I am hoping to be posting more in the upcoming summer season. Especially since I won’t have TV to watch, and hopefully I won’t be tested and tired more than I am already. Enjoy tonight’s music and fiction!)

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© Dale Rogerson

Bambou

by Miles H. Rost

He took in everything from his corner of the bar.

He noticed a man of his size walking into the bar, and beelining towards him.

“So, ‘Hank’, why am I here?” the man asked ‘Hank’.

“It’s my place for meetings.”

“In the middle of the Caribbean? I had to plunk down a chip to get here.”

“You’re wanted for a job.”

The man sat down, his eyes never moving.

“They want you to take a singer out.”

“Out to dinner, a movie?”

“Out.”

“Who’s the singer?”

“Me.”

The man blinked. ‘Hank’ gave him an envelope.

“Do it quickly, please.”

Silence.

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Friday Fictioneers – Grazin’ In The Grass

(Author’s Notes: None. Write and go, as they say. Enjoy the fictioneers this week!)

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© Sarah Potter

 

Grazin’ In The Grass

 

by Miles H. Rost

Summer.

Hot and humid, but also quite a beautiful time for listening to music.

I’d spend many hours sitting in the breezeway of my house, listening to the radio and recording the disc jockeys doing their thing. It was something that really inspired me.

It went everywhere I would go, but it always returned to that breezeway, close to where Dad did his accounting work and where he’d grow hot peppers. The music of my youth, the soundtrack of my life.

Until I was sent outside to play by my mom. Then I had to take my music with me.

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