Friday Fictioneers – When Summer Ends

(Author’s note: Life is treating me a bit better. Spring has sprung, and so has the mood to write. Here we go, starting with Today’s Fictioneers!)

©Ted Strutz

When Summer Ends

by Miles H. Rost

Looking down the hill, Itaewon Street was packed for a Sunday afternoon.

Clubbers, university students, foreign workers and teachers, all were gathering in this international section of Seoul. A cross-section of Korean society could be found here most weekends.

Nigerian farmworkers and South African university teachers mingle with Koreans, of both South and North varieties, at barbecue shacks. Americans and Canadians milled about, looking for respite from the arduous week of teaching.

This was the place to be on the weekend, to not feel so alone in a foreign culture. A place to belong.

It still is the foreigners place.

Picture courtesy of expedia.ca

Friday Fictioneers – Treasure Chest

(Author’s note: Things are getting crazy! Here’s some Fictioneers!)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Treasure Chest

by Miles H. Rost

A summer day, and the sound of kids playing filled the air.

This day, it was an adventure. The youngest kid impersonating Sherlock Holmes, the middle kid pushing the swing while the oldest imagined she was a pilot.

After the “flight” was over, they all ran around the quarter acre of property, looking for the treasure that their mother hid earlier that day.

They peered in a hole in the tree. Nothing.

They searched the camper. Nothing.

Finally, the middle kid spotted the box under a rhubarb plant.

They opened the box, and found… condiments.

“KIDS! DINNERTIME! BURGERS!”

“YAY! BURGERS!”

Friday Fictioneers – Korea Remembered (Madrigl)

(Author’s note: A lot of feels with the picture for this Fictioneers. A lot of them. Enjoy!)

Korea Remembered (Madrigl)

by Miles H. Rost

Nambu Market in Jeonju was one of a few placed I loved to go.

The shops, the smells of the food, the atmosphere; All of it was intoxicating.

The blood sausage restaurant, serving up sundae, was lined up down the lane. I passed them all by. No twenty minute wait for me.

The kalguksu shop I went to had soft asia-jazz playing, and was a great place for someone like me.

The server put some water on my table, and asked me for my order.

“Mandu Kalguksu wa cola hanpyeong gajuseyo.” *

She smiled as she went to make my order.

*- “Knife-cut noodle soup with dumplings, and 1 glass of cola, please.”