Friday Fictioneers

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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.


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Friday Fictioneers – With Dad

(Author’s note: Things have been getting pretty hectic around here, and things have been off kilter. I will try to add new writing on the blog, outside of Friday Fictioneers, but it will take a bit of time to get things moving again. Your patients will be well rewarded. Today’s Friday Fictioneers is here, to whet your appetite.)

 

Photo Prompt © Jennifer Prendergast

With Dad

by Miles H. Rost

“Ready to go, son?”
“Is it going to be safe?”
“We put it together, it will be.”
They each grabbed a side of the canoe and pushed it out to the lake.
“Alright, son. The canoe is there. Are you ready to get in?”
“I would if I knew where it was.”
“What? It’s right in front–”
Dad turned around, and saw the canoe was no longer there.
“Where did it go?”
“It sank.”
“Now, do you know why it sank?”
“Because we didn’t use the right sealant.”
“That’s right. That’s what we will tell Mom. Now, let’s go back to the cabin and watch the Ducks.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Walls

(Author’s note: Things have been quite busy this week. Bad experiences abounded, but good things are to come. Week 6 of uni has almost come to a close, and there’s another 7-8 weeks left to go. But, some big stories will be done soon, as I will need time to just sit and write and detox from writing essays. You all may be recipients of the work. Anyhow, here’s today’s Friday Fictioneers, with a bit of Australian flair involved.)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Walls

by Miles H. Rost

“What’s the number on this one?” Senior Constable Alistair MacKaye asked.
“Looks like this is the fifth one,” his partner, Constable Jacklyn Brandt replied.
“And I’ve been called out here six times in the past month.”
“I don’t understand, is there something about this place?”

Alistair just gazed at his young charge.

“Jackie, do you know anything about icehouses?”
“Nah. Never heard of them back in the bush.”
“It’s a nuthouse. They like the walls. Sometimes they climb them.”
“And then?”
“Some of them fall off.”
“Isn’t that a travesty?”
“Eh, I don’t mind the walls. They keep us safe.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Playing It Safe

(Author’s Note: Hey folks! Hope you’ve been paying attention and watching things. Even in the weirdness of school, I have had time to write. You all should be able to read my latest piece, Her Last Performance. The music will really make that one pop. Otherwise, here’s this week’s Fictioneers offering! Enjoy!)

© Claire Fuller

Playing It Safe

by Miles H. Rost

“Got another one for you.”

The desk clerk looked up from his newspaper, and at Riley Martin, the ambulance driver.

“Where did you find them?”

“Park Bench, Glen Martin Park, Irish Street side.”

There have been at least four that came from there, Riley thought.

“What was their condition?”

“Paralyzed, but with tears on the face and a voice saying ‘Brenda.'”

“Got a name on him?”

“Yep. Tyrone Brandon, aged 19. Student at the local U. Where should I put him?”

“Cell 6. We’ll prepare him soon.”

The paramedic wheeled Tyrone to the cell, and closed the doors, turning the wheels.

Another guest, checking into the Heartbreak Hotel.

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Friday Fictioneers – Burning Down The House

(Author’s note: Welcome aboard! So after the adventures of being SO creative last week, I had to deal with a week of problems and work. It is likely I will only be posting Fictioneers stuff for this week and next week, as I have a lot of assignments due for workshopping this week, as well as getting things started for some of my larger papers. So, for now, here’s the latest Friday Fictioneers story.)

 

© C.E. Ayr

Burning Down The House

by Miles H. Rost

Tom Corrigan extended his middle finger toward his unfinished project.

As he drove his gas tanker on the expressway, he passed by the old building that was to be his crowning achievement. Or, rather, the demolition that was.

“That damn building cost me my job,” he grumbled to himself.

For but a moment he thought of this, then switched lanes and exited onto a side street. He took another turn, heading back the direction he went. He reached the street that the landmark building stood on and sneered at it.

“I can’t let a job go unfinished,” he cried out, mashing the gas and shifting the gears.

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Sweet Caroline

(Author’s note: It’s been a busy week here at Music and Fiction. 3 different stories have been posted for your perusal, and I hope you can read them all. You can read the mini-fictions The Lament of the Scribe and 5 Steps, plus the longer fiction Walking On Ice (my current personal favorite of mine.) Make sure to comment on them, as a few of these were actually created as a result of class exercises for my university courses. Besides that, please enjoy today’s creation.)

©Madison Woods

Sweet Caroline

by Miles H. Rost

We had just pulled up to the drive thru on Route 7. I was reaching for my wallet when Caroline shrieked.

“Honey! What’s wrong?”
“I can’t stand bugs! And there are two right under the drive-thru window!”

Being a valiant man, I reached over the seat to get them. In my haste to shoo the beasts away, I miscalculated my reach. I let out a “whoa!” just before my face landed in her lap. I heard a gasp, then a breath.

“My darling, if you wanted pie, you should have just said so…”

I looked up at her, and she cracked up. I can’t help but crack up now whenever she, my beautiful wife, asks if I want pie.

 

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Friday Fictioneers – I Still Hear Your Voice

(Author’s note: Heyo! Classes are a bit hectic, but I may actually have some real stories up this week, depending on how things go. I realize that writing a bit longer-form may actually help me with my classes [especially my short fiction class], so be ready for some experimentation to come. Anyhow, here’s the latest Fictioneers offering.)

 

Photo Prompt © Madison Woods

I Still Hear Your Voice

by Miles H. Rost

Deception.

I feel as thought my heart has been pulled from its place, but I know it is still there. Despite what might have been, I still am able to continue on. I am confused as to why you had to go that route, though. Why would you submit yourself to all of that dreck?

I am not sure which direction to go now, as my path has been shaken up. I still hear your voice in the dark night, telling me the things that I want to hear.

But I hear a different voice now, one that says “time to move on.”

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Ten Little Bottles

(Author’s note: G’day, everyone! First classes have come and gone for the week [or at least they will as of tomorrow night at 6:30PM]. I hope to be writing a bit more, considering I am going to need some time away from writing autobiographical pieces, biographical pieces, short fiction, and scripts. So much writing, so little time. Anyhow, here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

© G.L. MacMillan.

Ten Little Bottles

by Miles H. Rost

“Big ones! Small ones!” Beano slurred, “So many different types!”

Beano looked completely hammered. and fully animated. I was merely annoyed.

“Beano! What the heck are you talking about?!”

He turned his rotund frame my direction, and smiled one of those smiles that can irritate an IRS agent. It was the smile that I knew from my time in the Army with him.

“Mexico!”

Again, flustered was I.

“What about Mexico, Private?!”

“I found all these bottles in an empty house. And I drank them all.”

“And that’s why you’re drunk now?” I asked, blinking at him.

Beano grinned.

“Permanently drunk. Not sure how!”

And now people know why I will never visit Mexico.

 

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Friday Fictioneers – The Winter Of My Disk Content

Author’s note: Since classes will soon be starting up again, I will likely be updating with mostly Friday Fictioneers stuff and short writings that result from my “argle-bargle” sessions of getting frustrated with being a grad student. At the very least, enjoy today’s selection for Friday Fictioneers.

Photo Prompt © Dee Lovering

The Winter of My Disk Content

by Miles H. Rost

 

“Why did we travel an hour to this place for food?!”

Chandra Barker was not a happy person, and her fiancee, Mark, knew it. He sat her down on a bench and looked her in the eye.

“When I was 9, my teenaged sister and I came here for fun. We had these cinnamon flat disks for a snack, before we went onto the ice. It was the last thing that we ate together before the day she fell through the ice. Coming here is a reminder of what we used to do.”

She looked at him, and a tear fell.

“And you wanted to share this memory with me?”

She planted her lips firmly on his cheek, appreciating the gesture.

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Friday Fictioneers – Clubbing

Author’s note – Trying my best to do more than just fictioneers stuff on here, but kinda stuck dealing with pre-grad studies “crunk”. Hope to be back in form next week.

© Sandra Crook

The Club At The End Of The Street

by Miles H. Rost

The bubble popped in Carlotta’s mouth.

“So, where are we going?”

“I found a little place. In fact, look down the street. See the man holding a cigar?”

“Yeah, I see him.”

“We’re gonna go clubbing tonight.”

She looked at her boyfriend and smiled. Finally, doing something she wanted to do. She hopped up and down as they walked down the small “street”. They finally reached the man with the cigar. He sneered.

“What’s the password?”

“Club a baby seal for a better deal,” her boyfriend replied.

“Great! Have fun!”

Cigar man handed her boyfriend a hunk of wood.

“Whatcha gonna do with that?” she asked.

“I did say we’d go ‘clubbing’,” he said, as he bopped her over the head.