Friday Fictioneers

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Friday Fictioneers – Still Losing You

(Author’s note: The month of November was not very kind, creativewise. A good portion of my brains had to be put to use at work. The rewards will be seen eventually, but it meant my online writing ended up sacrificed. Hopefully this will be a return to more weekly and sooner endeavours. Otherwise, enjoy today’s offering!)

asian-bus

© Fatima Fakier Deria

Still Losing You

by Miles H. Rost

“O-bun!”
“Kamsahabnida!”

Percy looked down at the phone, as the bus driver went back into Gwangju’s main bus terminal.

He told Caitlin that she had one week to decide: Go to Australia with him, or stay in Korea. He looked to the door of the bus gate, hoping to see her sandy hair peek out.

Deep in his heart, he knew.

He picked up his bags and boarded the bus. Seat 15, so he could see if she would board as well.

As the bus backed out, tears filled his eyes.

As it passed Gwangju’s city limits, he finally broke down.

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Friday Fictioneers – Silence and I

(Author’s note: About the time I get back into the swing of things: mandatory overtime. Here’s tonight’s read!)

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© Ronda Del Beccio

Silence And I

by Miles H. Rost

“Mom, guess what?! I got an A–”

“Shut up. I’m watching my show.”

*thump thump*

Professor: “What is your opinion on this, class?”

Student: “Well, we live in a society.–”

Professor: “Not you. Be silent. Gloria?”

Gloria: “We live in a society…”

*thump thump*

“Gina, would you like to get mar–”

“Can we just sit here and not talk?”

*thump thump*

Standing on the edge, looking into the deep 175 feet below.

“Hey! You! Get down from there!”

He heard nothing as he jumped off the bridge, head first.

No wind. No screams. No horns.

Nothing but silence, and the end.

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Friday Fictioneers – On Every Street

(Author’s note: Getting there. Enjoy!)

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© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

On Every Street

by Miles H. Rost

I turned down what used to be a busy college street, one that was full of bars, chicken shops, all the places a student in Korea would go.

I looked at how transformed it was. Gone were the karaoke houses, the pizza shops. Now it was condos, small boutiques, and a grown-up veneer.

Each place I remembered seeing Soong-Mi, gone.

Each memory of her smiling face: fading.

She went her way, I went mine. To meet one last time.

I laid a rose at her memorial, a cross on a corner. It’s her face I look for…on every street.

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Friday Fictioneers – Jump

(Author’s note: I haven’t been to many people’s blogs lately. I haven’t been doing comments. Work has been very tough, and tiredness is a problem. I’m therefore changing some of my habits. I hope to be a bit more…focused coming forth. Starting this week. Now…JUMP!)

dales-field

(look to your left, it’s right there.)

Jump!

by Miles H. Rost

“Jump!”

Racquon Phillips was surrounded. A brick wall of a man in front of him, a tall lanky weirdo covering on his left.

“Racquon! Jump!”

He himself was six feet tall, but these guys were massive. He didn’t know if he could get the shot off.

“Get ahead and jump!”

Racquon faked left, but no one moved. He was about to move when he saw the hand come straight from the left.

“JUMP!”

He jumped, and let the ball loose. It arced up, looking large as it approached the backboard.

Everyone stared as it started descending, hit the rim, and then…

(Care to find out? Why don’t you end it! I’d love to see what you all think!)

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Friday Fictioneers – Blood Drive

(Author’s note: I hate waking up early for work, and coming home in the mid-afternoon. Ruins the writing atmosphere. I get all tired and blah. Today’s fictioneers is brought to you by exhaustion from monotonous work. “One note to bore them…” Enjoy!)

book-ceayr

© C.E. Ayr

Blood Drive

by Miles H. Rost

“Excuse me…”

No response.

“Ms. McCready?”

No response.

“OY!”

Jane McCready bolted up and looked around frantically. She saw the nurse and started breathing slowly again. She clutched the book she was reading near to her.

“It’s a good book isn’t it?”

“Very!”

The nurse smiled as she undid the blood pressure cuff.

“You donated a good pint and a half today. I know that someone’s going to be happy about that.”

Jane smiled. She knew that reading books helped her in giving more blood.

“See you in 6 weeks?”

“Same book, same old vein!”

Jane grinned, as she walked out.

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Friday Fictioneers – Waiting For An Answer

(Author’s note: I’m not sure exactly what it is, but my job has given me a few issues regarding rest and sleep. Mentally, my job is exhausting. And writing after a hard day is one of those things that I have been endeavoring to do, but yet many times failing over this summer period. I’m hoping to get better, but I’m not sure what that will look like.

Until then, you have today. And a Fictioneers post from me. Enjoy!)

dales-restaurant-photo

© Dale Rogerson

Waiting For An Answer

by Miles H. Rost

“Well?”

Carlos looked back from the window, blinking his eyes to readjust.

“Well what?”
“Have you paid any attention to what I’m asking?”
“Yes. I just don’t know what you want.”

Debra looked him dead in the eye.

“I’m waiting for an answer about moving in together.”

Carlos thought for a moment, recalling all the events they had apart. He snickered as he thought about them.

“Well?”

He stood and smiled.

“No. We are not moving in together.”
“WHAT?! What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not living with you. I don’t need a hen in my house. We’re through.”

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Friday Fictioneers – De Plane! De Plane!

(Author’s note: For lack of a better term, July was hell. Lots of stuff going on, and on top of all of it…I got sick. Hence why I haven’t posted in 3-4 weeks. But I’m back, and here we go!)

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© Ted Strutz

De Plane! De Plane! 

by Miles H. Rost

“I won’t do it!”

“Herv, they love you. Everyone loves you.”

“They think I’m short. A cute doll! The audience…they love Tattoo! They don’t love Herve.”

“What about your fans from the Bond films?”

“Nick Nack! That’s all I’m known as!”

His agent looked at him and shook his head.

“You do realize if you do this event, you’ll be able to help children, right?”

He looked up, and his countenance eased.

“The children want to see Tattoo, Nick Nack, and Herve Villechaize. All together. One package.”

Herve smiled, as he slid off the chair.

“It’s for the children.”

Herve Villechaize, in the earlier days, would visit crime scenes where children were affected, and he would help comfort them. 

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Sandy

(Author’s note: I have been gone the last couple weeks, due to many different issues coming up and rearing their head, such as a digestive issue. I intend on doing more. It’s just taking a little longer to get things moving. Here’s today’s Fictioneers!)

box-office-ted-strutz

©Ted Strutz

Sandy

by Miles H. Rost

Jim stood outside the bus depot, cigarette in hand, cold air on his face. A rush of exhaust passed by him as a Greyhound pulled up.

“Sorry, I’m late, Jim,” His partner, Warren, huffed as he ran up the sidewalk towards him.

“This better work, Warren. I quit a job buying lingerie for this.”

“It will. They want to take our work and turn it into a musical.”

Jim crushed his cigarette.

“New York, here we come, eh?”

“Well, let’s see what they say. I just hope they don’t turn Sandy into something strange.”

“Like an Australian?”

Chuckling, they boarded.

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Courtesy of The Disney Odessey

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Friday Fictioneers – Upstairs in My House

(Author’s note: Things are getting little better, and I’m likely getting more time to do writing work. You may see an uptick in original work soon. My job isn’t as tiring as it used to be. Enjoy today’s view!)

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© C. E. Ayr

Upstairs In My House

by Miles H. Rost

The scenery was beautiful.

Westgate Bridge was far in the distance, but I could see it’s shadow looming on the water.

The setting sun brought forth it’s bright oranges and reds, a blanket to cover the entirety of Melbourne.

One of the hottest days of the year started moving down into a cooler and comfortable night. The lights of the CityLink, the sounds of Swanston, I could enjoy them all from my own place.

28th floor, looking down over the city. Temporarily. But it was still wonderful. It was a shame to leave it behind.

Such is the squatter’s life.

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Friday Fictioneers – Only The Young

(Author’s note: I’ve been a year at my job now. I am quite pleased. Celebrate with me in the Fictioneers!)

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©J. Hardy Carroll

Only The Young

by Miles H. Rost

Bradley turned nine today.

The party was spectacular. His friends played in the yard, ate hot dogs and burgers, devoured cake like it was nothing.

After it was all done, he sat by my side, watching his favorite evening TV show, Tour of Duty. 

“Daddy, will I ever have to go to war?”

I looked down at him, my eyes remembering the days when I asked that question.

“Not unless you want to.”
“Are you sure?”
“They don’t force you to go anymore. Not like when I was 18.”

He curled up next to me, as we silently finished the show.

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