Friday Fictioneers – Lady

(Author’s note: A lot of life stuff happened over the last couple weeks. I am hoping to have a Fictioneers next week as well, and maybe even a unique story-ette. However, here’s today’s fictioneers!)

Lady

by Miles H. Rost

When your mind is full, sometimes you just have to sit on a toilet, and El knew this well.

His creative process took him to many places, but sometimes, the bathroom was where he needed to be.

He thought about Brenda, his beautiful wife of four years. He thought about how he looked forward to her days. The ideas flowed onto the paper, as he sat on the throne.

He poured out all that he had been feeling since he married her, even when he was gone with his band. He wanted to be home, and this was his ticket.

El and Brenda. You know him better as Lionel Richie.

Here’s the link to the seemingly tall tale of writing “Lady” on the commode.

Want to see more stories like mine? Click the frog!

Friday Fictioneers – New Day For You

(Author’s note: A second one in a month? Holy! He’s back!)

(see the lower left corner)

A New Day For You

by Miles H. Rost

Blue eyes behind purple rimmed glasses peered from behind the auditorium door.

The 2,000 seat venue crackled with energy, with cheers for the opening band as they finished.

“Charlotte! Charlotte!”

The chant started from a far side, growing from a couple boys in the back, and slowly crashed over everyone in a wave.

“Didn’t think that a 2 year hiatus would make you more popular, did ya?”

Charlotte Tetravalova flipped around, surprised to see her agent.
“Are you ready? Looks like your band is,” her agent responded.

Charlotte smiled, tucking her glasses into her pocket.

“I’m always ready for a comeback, babe.”

Friday Fictioneers – Inside A Dream

(Author’s note: I turn 41 tomorrow. There’s a lot going on. Let’s just get to it.)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (The BlogMom!)

Inside A Dream

by Miles H. Rost

Delia’s eyes grew wide at the organizer on her daddy’s desk.

“Daddy, can I have paper clip?”

Her father looked down and smiled. His beautiful 6 year old came to work with him, due to inservice days at school. He sat down and lifted her onto his lap, and plucked a silver paper clip out.

Delia worked her fingers, bending, unbending; like lightning she moved. Daddy just closed his eyes, taking the quick break that he was hoping for.

“I’m done!”

He opened his eyes, and looked down at Delia, who had made a house out of one clip.

“How Beautiful!”

Friday Fictioneers – Dreams (Gone)

(Author’s note: Merry Christmas!)

© Trish Nankivell

Dreams (Gone)

by Miles H. Rost

Teddy stood, brushing the sand and dust off his clothes.

He lodged the large, uncut opal into the top of the headstone.

“Ay, da. I buried ya where the paper told me.”

Teddy’s father spent most of his life in the holes next to where he now laid. His fortune was in opals, a dangerous job with a great reward. The cancer treatments, though, depleted that fortune and left it all gone. By the time Teddy showed up, it was too late. He died.

“I’ll be back soon, da. I have to close this deal on oil with the Singaporeans.”

Friday Fictioneers – This Used To Be My Playground

(Author’s note: I am working to get back to weekly writing. Work just sucks the energy out of you. So take this, and enjoy!)

© Roger Bultot

This Used To Be My Playground

by Miles H. Rost

“I remember making Gurgles the Clown throw up outside of “The High Roller”!”
“He threw up on that karen, didn’t he?”
“Ha! Now I remember! She was really riding us all day.”
“Can’t believe it’s gone now.”
“Yeah, Once the virus hit, everything fun went away. Can’t go anywhere people might congregate”
“I guess the karens got back at us, after all.”
“Yep. They want us all to be miserable.”
“Did you hear what they will build on the site?”
“Probably another big box store.”
“That’s usually their go-to, isn’t it?”

“Miserable and compliant. That’s all they want us. Period.”

Friday Fictioneers – Our Lips Are Sealed

(Author’s note: One of the perils of my work from home job is that I get slammed with work. With that, the election stuff going on (which I have been largely happy to avoid), and 3 cases at work that are massive and had big benchmarks that needed to be met, I became very exhausted.

Anyhow, I am back and raring to go with a new Fictioneers. Please enjoy, like, subscribe, and tell your friends!)

© Sarah (not Harry) Potter

Our Lips Are Sealed

by Miles H. Rost

“Quick, Janey! Make sure no one sees you.”

Jane zipped from tree to tree, attempting to hide the best she could in broad daylight. Approaching Terry’s house, she made a mad dash from the last tree toward a waiting bush.

“If you wanted to see my son, Jane,” the voice of Mr. Hall bellowed down from the room, “you could just come up the front steps.”

“Sorry, Mr. Hall,” she seemed to mutter.

“He’s waiting inside for you. No hanky panky, though.”

Jane’s face turned cherry, as she quickly ran to the door.

“My lips are sealed” he called out.

(Jane’s the Rhythm Guitarist with the short dark hair. ^_-)

Friday Fictioneers – Closing Time

(Author’s note: No note, just write!)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Closing Time

by Miles H. Rost

“We’re locking up.”

The waitress teared up as we put on our jackets. I grabbed the last piece of biscuit on my way to the register.

“$24.50.”

I looked around at the reminiscent decor, all the things I loved that were on shelves just below the ceiling. I pulled a $100 out of my wallet, and gave it up.

“Are you sure…”
“Honey, this place gave me memories. Whatever isn’t for the bill, split it among you three.”

She finished ringing us up, smiling through it.

We walked out the door and saw her turn the sign to closed.

Forever.

Nothing more.

It’s a common thing nowadays, the last person out tips the best. With the virus, you never know when you’ll have to go home.

Friday Fictioneers – I’ll Wait

(Author’s note: A lot of my delays between weeks has usually been due to either busyness or other items. I’m hoping things will get better, but until at least November, it likely will not. I’ll do the best I can, though. Here’s today’s offering!)

© Sandra Crook

I’ll Wait

by Miles H. Rost

Fabrizio grimaced as he started cleaning the remains of Hurricane Belinda.

A large storm, she threw the nests of seaweed up in front of his restaurant. He knew if he didn’t get it done, it’d stink up the neighborhood.

“Fabrizio! Where have you been?” she called out, Fabrizio jumping at her voice.
“I need to clean this up. I need to open so I can help people.”
“But what about our promised night out?”
“Do you want to help me clean this up in your Chuta Gabrola?”

Marina’s eyes grew wide, as his suggestion sunk in.

“I’ll wait.”
“Thought so.”

RIP Eddie Van Halen (1955-2020)

Friday Fictioneers – Dance Hall Days (Short Story)

(Author’s note: Took last week off due to the fires in Oregon. Back today. Enjoy!”)

© Roger Bultot

Dance Hall Days

by Miles H. Rost

Stickball.

A staple of New York youth. A way for the kids of the neighborhood to have fun and forge long lasting friendships.

When us kids needed to hash out things, we didn’t take to our fists. We took to the sticks. Whoever ended up scoring the most, or when our moms called us in after the sun went down, they would carry the day.

Once we moved to the west coast, there was no more stickball. You moved up to the sandlots. The skills learned translated well for the batting, but the running killed us.

We were still friends.

Friday Fictioneers – Who (Are You)?

(Author’s note: Hey! You’ve probably wondered where I went over the last month. Well, honestly, with all the stuff going on in the world, I have been weary and tired. Haven’t been inspired. So, hopefully after today, I’ll be more inspired by the world around me. Here we go!)

glasgow

© C. E. Ayr

Who (Are You)? 

by Miles H. Rost

Pete rushed into the house, happy that Sunday service was finally over.

He ran as quick as his legs could to his room, pulled out a magazine and his notebook from the closet, and quickly returned to the living room.

“Why are you so quick today?” his mum inquired.

“I’m not gonna miss this episode for the world!” young Pete replied, looking at his pens and readying himself.

“You know it doesn’t start for 3 hours, right?”

Pete blinked, then sighed.

“I have to get this letter right, if I want to be the president of the Doctor Who Fan Club.”

Capaldi Who

It’s true. Peter Capaldi DID try to become the head of the Doctor Who Fan Club. The BBC disliked his persistence, and put someone else in his place. But who got the last laugh? 

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