Friday Fictioneers – Auf Immer Und Ewig

(Author’s note: I was off last week as it was my birthday week. I had a lot of things to do, so I got to them. Now that things are starting to calm down, I can get back to more regular writing. Keep an eye on this website for possibly more longer-form stories. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers… Note: The song is very important. Listen and enjoy.)

© Bradley Harris

Auf Immer Und Ewig (Forever and Ever)

by Miles H. Rost

A craving that could never be sated.

Nick gazed out towards the horizon, passing a glance over the ocean as though it wasn’t there.

Every month, he’d come to that very spot, and look out. It was a therapy, his father would say, a way to heal from the scars of the past.

It wasn’t.

“I always go there,” he said to his best friend one day, “because I want to go back. I left her back there, and I want to be with her just once more.”

It was all he would say about his tour back in Vietnam.

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Friday Fictioneers – Get To You

(Author’s note: So, a lot of stuff happened in the last month that’s caused me to lose focus. Being in a shared house provides responsibilities that one has to take seriously. So now that I’m on a vacation from work, and just resting up, I’m back to getting in the swing of it. So, for the last post of 2021… enjoy!)

Get To You

by Miles H. Rost

A historic hotel in a sea of skyscrapers was not where Mitch wanted to be.

Making the most of a family reunion trip, however, it was better than nothing. It was also free, which helped numb some of the sting.

Mitch walked out to the street. As he reached the curb, the slippery ground gave out from under him.

*THWACK*

Within seconds, he was stunned and couldn’t breathe. After a few more seconds, he was staring into the eyes of a passing nurse with the most stunning maize-colored hair.

“Dinner?” he croaked out.

“Breathe first, dinner after,” she replied, smugly.

Friday Fictioneers – Ridin’ With The King

(Author’s note: I was unfortunately detained for a month handling the issues of a new roommate for the house. But, since the lease for the new roommates has been sent (and is being signed), I can get back to weekly posts! Here’s the latest!)

© Claire Fuller

Ridin’ With The King

by Miles H. Rost

Leon hoist himself out from under the chassis of a 57′ Bel Air.

He loved to work on the old cars, and having his own shop was a point of pride for the young looking man.

Hearing the familiar dings of a customer pulling up, he walked out into the hot air and shielded his face.

He was looking into a 1977 Ford Mustang with Shelby-Cobra emblems. A 289 engine. Whoever this person was, they knew what they were doing.

“Can I help ya?”

“Can you look under the hood and see if I got a leak?”

Leon grinned.

Friday Fictioneers – I Write The Songs

(Author’s note: Things have been busy. so I haven’t been writing as much. Here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

© Ted Strutz

I Write The Songs

by Miles H. Rost



Darren closed his notebook, folding his hands across the front.

He took the Alaskan cruise in order to get away from the usual distractions, and allow him a chance to clear his mind.

The cool sea air wisped around him, bathing him in the ideas that he tried for years to put on paper. From the moment he walked onto the cruise ship, he started seeing different inspirations that would give him new fodder for music.

He thought about his friends back in Seattle, wondering if they’d come out of their trances with the new “Tik Tok Friendly” music.

He flipped open the book, and put pen to paper again.

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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 – Rose Colored Glasses

(Author’s note: I had some family issues pop up in the last couple weeks, and when it comes to family, I will always give focus to them. Here’s today’s fictioneers…)

© Roger Bultot

Rose Colored Glasses

by Miles H. Rost

“I have a great life where I’m working, living, and being,” Goro said, putting on his hat.

“You’re in a camp house. You can only walk at certain times of the day. You have to be given tests,” Miyoko spat, disgusted.

“I have to have this attitude. If I don’t, I don’t survive. At least I can give everyone something to think about.”

“You let them treat you like good little cattle. They took us from San Francisco to here. They don’t care.”

“Miyoko, I know. I’m not wearing rose colored glasses. But, to help them, I’ll do what I do.”


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Friday Fictioneers – Walking On A Thin Line

(Author’s note: August and September are typically busy times for me at work, so my output may be less… not that it’s much of a departure from previous. Here’s today’s Fictioneers!)

© Krista Strutz

Walking On A Thin Line

by Miles H. Rost

Stewart grabbed his handkerchief and wiped his eyes.

He didn’t want to cry. Seeing the bald eagle that landed on the memorial above him, though, broke everything.

He remembered walking off the plane all those years ago.

The spit. The urine.

The look of disgust on the faces of his classmates when they came to visit his mother, and found him there.

The days alone in his apartment, wondering if that day was his last.

It started looking up when Kristi entered his life, but there was still those memories.

It was this day, though, where that eagle validated everything.

Thanks to Keith Hillman for the Frog

Friday Fictioneers – Season of the Witch

(Author’s note – Oh come on now. This is low hanging fruit! Enjoy!)

© Brenda Cox

Season of the Witch

by Miles H. Rost

A spinster on a bike.

The classic trope of old-style writing was personified by Miss Jane Banfield.

Miserly, grumpy, past her prime.

Jane was not someone to cross, and this day, a young girl’s cat crossed her with its claws.

She held the basket lid down, blazing as fast as she could on her bike, trying to look prim and proper while making sure the feline didn’t escape.

She didn’t realize that she was going too fast until she hit the small hill before the intersection.

Bike and person flew, as cat leaped out.

They said the cleanup was gruesome.

Friday Fictioneers – Chan Chan

(Author’s note: A lot of things have been happening. I hope to be back to weekly posting next week. Depends on everything. Here we go with today’s Fictioneers!)

© Lisa Fox

Chan Chan

by Miles H. Rost

Ernie loved the wind in his hair as he rode his motorcycle across the dusty land.

He got his reputation for being a daredevil during his long journey through various lands, seeing people and doing deadly things “in the name of the Revolution.”

It was one of the few things that allowed him the time away from the many jobs he did, to think and to let the steam off.

It was one of the last times he rode, for he needed to start training the irregulars.

He was always readied for the next day. The day he would die.


Friday Fictioneers – Sharp Dressed Man

(Author’s note: Post-trip, work’s been crazy. Hence why I haven’t been on here. But I’m back for today. And here’s today’s fictioneers)

© Roger Bultot

Sharp Dressed Man

by Miles H. Rost

“I met her at one of the writing club’s outings.”

Delvin adjusted his tie, making sure that it was straight and neat.

“She had interesting ideas about characters, and I wanted to find out more. So we’re going out tonight.”

Delvin turned from the mirror and presented himself to his sister.

“You look good. Getting older, but looking good,” she said, while crossing one of her stitches.

“If we’re going to go see a nice play, I want to shine.”

“If you wanted to shine, you’d have shaved and polished your head.”

Delvin stifled a chortle.

“I’m gonna use that.”

RIP Dusty Hill of ZZ Top. 72 years young, on the way to La Grange.