Author: Miles Rost

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Friday Fictioneers – Do What You Do

(Author’s note: There’s a lot of things going on, and my production of fiction hasn’t been very productive because of other factors. I shall have more stuff up soon, but at this time, all I am able to do is Fictioneers stuff. To which, here’s today’s offering.)

 

© C.E. Ayr

Do What You Do
by Miles H. Rost

“So, I noticed that you came in with only one shoe. What happened?”

Bridget Moroney bit her lip as the question hit her with full force. It was the one question she didn’t want to answer.

“Well, I was rushing to get here, and a man pushed me out of the way. My foot stepped onto a drain grate and the heel got stuck. I couldn’t pull it out.”

“Did you think of breaking off the heel?” the interviewer asked, her voice in disbelief.

“It wouldn’t have done much good. So I just took off my other shoe and walked the rest of the way here.”

“Where did you walk from?”

“56th and Broadway.”

The interviewer’s eyes bugged out.

“You’re hired.”

 

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Friday Fictioneers – I’m Not Home

(Author’s notes: Sorry for not being as productive lately. It’s been a really tough time here in the land down under, and because of all that’s going on, my attention has been on getting myself stable, then getting myself out of here. I want to thank each and every one of you for reading my stories the last two weeks and giving me great feedback. You all make me so proud. Here is today’s fictioneers story.) 

 

© J. Hardy Carroll

I’m Not Home

by Miles H. Rost

Heidi Markham glared at her mother.

“We’ve been coming to Dad’s grave for 14 years. I’m about to graduate. You never told me what happened to him.”
“I guess it is that time,” her mother sighed, sitting down next to the flat gravestone, “Your dad came back from the Gulf, and he wasn’t right. But he always told me he was, so I didn’t say much about it.”

Heidi slowly knelt down by her Mom.

“He never told anyone. He never told me!”

She started to sob. Heidi hugged her, tears flowing down her face.

“He was too stubborn to ask for help, and he took his life. He never truly made it home.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Heart Of Glass

(Author’s note: Greetings and meetings! Exams are over for me, and that means I’ll be posting a lot more as time goes along this month. Excellence will come this month. Besides that, last week’s offering was the best by far. 98 unique views within 1 week. Excellent job, readers! Keep up the good work! Here’s today’s Fictioneers offering!)

Heart Of Glass

by Miles H. Rost

“Found one!”

Maizie walked down the dirt path, and crouched down.

“What did you come up with, Trish?”
“Must have been an old Heeregard hospital. Take a look.”

Maizie picked up the small tube that was on the ground. She clinked it against a piece of metal and sighed. She knew exactly what the place was, and it was not good news for the explorers.

“Not a hospital. A burial ground.”
“Heeregard?”
“Nah. Broken-hearted New Humans. As they die, their hearts turn to glass.”
“Seriously?!”
“What you found was an aorta. Let’s go.”

Trish looked up, quizzically

“I’m not staying around for the ghosts of the lonely…” Maizie flatly stated, as she turned around to leave.

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Friday Fictioneers – I Will Remember You

(Author’s note: Well, exams are coming to an end. I will be able to do some new fiction in the very near future, and am preparing a few stories for publication on this blog. In the meantime, I am attempting to fundraise to start my full Master’s program here at the University of Melbourne. If anyone is interested, go ahead and visit my GoFundMe page, so you can contribute. Here’s today’s offering for Friday Fictioneers.)

© Dale Rogerson

I Will Remember You

by Miles H. Rost

Pete Meyer shut down the fan boat, as he traveled through the Everglades.
“Hey, Berkeley! Look over here.”
Berkeley Bryant turned his head to the swampland and stared.
“That’s a pipe. And it’s not an irrigation one.”
They slowly moved the boat over to the pipe, and attempted to pull it up. Taking 20 minutes to do so, they finally wrenched it out of the slop.
“What type of pipe?”
Berkeley looked down, blinked, and looked out amongst the swamp.
“Fuel intake for a DC-9.”
“DC-9? Wasn’t that…”
Berkeley took off his hat, and put it on his heart.
“It was.”

Valujet Flight 592 – Crashed May 11, 1996

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Friday Fictioneers – They Rage On

(Author’s note: Exam week and essay week is coming next week. That means I may have new stories to put on my blog. I’m not sure, however, due to the X factor of a new job and timeframe. So, here’s to seeing what comes. Otherwise, here’s today’s Friday Fictioneers piece!)

©Ron Pruitt

They Rage On

by Miles H. Rost

Diana Cheung looked around, and quickly boarded the bus.
“Dee! Over here!”
In the middle, next to the window, was her man. She smiled, and rushed to the open seat next to him.
“Did anyone see you?” he asked her.
“No. If they did, they aren’t coming.”
Her beau sighed with relief, as she laid her head on his shoulder.
“Are we going to be safe, honey?”
“Once we leave this town, we’ll be fine.”
She looked up at him, a tear falling.
“Was it our fault?”
“No. Love is not our fault.”
He looked out the window as the bus pulled away, the light reflecting off his pale skin.

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Friday Fictioneers – Teardrop

(Author’s note: Things are crazy, and final exams are coming. I won’t likely be coming out with anything new besides Fictioneers stuff until after early November, due to how much energy I have to spend on writing essays. So here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

 

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Teardrop

by Miles H. Rost

Travis stood in the middle of the parking lot. He looked up, as drops started to fall onto his face.

The phone in his hand started ringing, as the rain started to pour down quickly.

“Hello?”
“Travis, this is Mike from Allied Textiles. I just wanted to call you and let you know that you have a job. Come in for orientation on Tuesday morning.”
“Thank you.”

He hung up the phone and gave a small smile, then started to cry. He opened the door of his truck, climbed in, and pulled a blanket around him.

As he slept, he cried.

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Friday Fictioneers – Windmills Of Your Mind

(Author’s Note: I am doing a little bit better, but won’t be on the full track for a little while. It’s the end of the term at uni! That means…so much fun. There is a possibility I may have to go dark for a week, but I am hoping that will not be the case. Here is today’s Fictioneers!)

 

Photo Prompt © Ted Strutz

Windmills of Your Mind

by Miles H. Rost

“How many applications did you put out this week?” Miguel asked, as he chewed on an apple.
“30 as of Thursday, with 15 more coming up,” Carmen replied.
“And how many do you expect callbacks on?”
“Probably about 5, at best.”
“Why do you do it, Carm?”

Carmen sat back, leaning herself against his leg.

“I think it’s because I want to be useful.”
“But you don’t necessarily have to work to be useful.”

She gave Miguel’s knee a kiss.
“I want to be useful for you. That’s why I do it.”

Miguel just raised his hands and smiled.

 

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Friday Fictioneers – The Name Of The Game

(Author’s Note: I am not sure about the things that are going on in my current life right now. I will update as I can, but I am not sure when I’ll be back to extra writings on the blog besides Friday Fictioneers. Here’s today’s offering.)

PHOTO PROMPT – © Marie Gail Stratford

The Name Of The Game

by Miles H. Rost

Mark Daniels kept clicking the mouse. He was barely listening to the person in front of him.

“And that’s why I can be the best at your company.”

Mark didn’t look up, but kept clicking the mouse.

“Alright. Thank you for coming in. I’ll contact you if you got the job.”

The interviewee just looked at him funny, then turned around and left out the door. Mark waited until the door closed, and he tore up the resume.

“Not gonna waste my time.”

He kept clicking on the mouse, looking at the scantily clad women on his screen. A small smile came across his face.

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Friday Fictioneers – Oh Life (There Must Be More)

Author’s note: I hope everyone is doing alright. I’ve been in a real big funk when it comes to writing new stuff, mostly due to the fact that my school writing has been taking up most of my time. However, I am planning on putting up a bunch of stuff over the next week as I have a mid-semester break coming up. Whether it gets posted or not, that’s a different story. But we shall see.

Also, there were some questions about last week’s story. The answer It was an allegorical story that was related to a slate of issues on college campuses in America, where men and even some women have been accused of rape. They get taken through tribunals on campus instead of through the legal/police process. It ruins their lives, and indirectly, all parties’ lives. So for those who were curious, now you know…the rest of the story. (RIP Paul Harvey)

Here’s this week’s offering from Fictioneers:

Photo Credit @ The Reclining Gentleman

Oh Life (There Must Be More) 

by Miles H. Rost

The young lady was pulled back from the railing, the man holding her back against him.
“You’re going to be fine,” he whispered, clutching the crying woman as she let all her misery out.
He didn’t plan to be there. He was just driving, and there was someone where he was just a few months ago.
He just held her close when he heard a loud bang.
He turned around, and saw the bright lights of another car bearing down upon him. She looked up and screamed.
He pushed her away, seconds before the car hit him, carrying him over the side.
She screamed in horror as she heard nothing but the sound of the car hitting the water.
She sat, screaming and shaking as the ambulances approached.

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Friday Fictioneers – Suddenly Last Summer

Author’s note: Hey everyone! I keep promising more stuff on the blog, but school and job hunting gets in the way. Once something comes along, there will be more posts. Otherwise, you get to enjoy Friday Fictioneers from me! My good blog-father, David Stewart, got the picture for this week, and I think it’s a beauty! Enjoy the story!

 

                                                               Photo Prompt © David Stewart

Suddenly, Last Summer

by Miles H. Rost

The rust on the gate was quick. Brand new last year, now tarnished.

Only one rainfall came that summer, but it was a blessing. A year’s worth of crops came in a month. It was incredible.

Then they came to the house. Claimed all sorts of charges, all sorts of lies. They said the rain didn’t want to come. I asked them how they knew the intent of the rain.

They didn’t tell me much, didn’t even allow me the chance of getting a lawyer.

Now I’ve been kicked out. My life is in ruin.

The rust shows my life.