Friday Fictioneers

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Friday Fictioneers – Forever Young

Took a break last week with some other stuff going on at work, so I am back (though a little late):

Copyright – The Reclining Gentleman

Forever Young
by Miles Rost

“Dad, was this place always filled with water?”

“No, son. This area used to be a major quarry for the local marble company.”

“Why didn’t they continue with marble here?”

“The company went out of business, son.”

“I never knew about this place, what it was.”

“That’s because it changes all the time. Everything changes after time, even you.”

“But Dad, do you think I’ll change so much to be unrecognizable?”

“You won’t be unrecognizable. People will still remember what you were, and what you are. In people’s minds, you’ll be forever young.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Kicks

Took last week off because, after the September from Hell that was unleashed upon me, I needed a bit of a break. Now, I’m back to doing what I do, and hopefully will be less tired and do more other writings. Here’s the latest Fictioneers story for y’all:

copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Kicks
by Miles Rost

“I know it doesn’t look pretty, but we’ll do fine with what we have.”

Paul and Mark looked around at the studio, and smiled.

“We don’t care. We’ve got some ideas, and the studio will be fine.”

Mark looked over at the engineers, and pursed his lips.

“Just curious, why didn’t we get the normal studio?”

The engineers smiled.

“Apparently, the last folk that were in the studio,” he chuckled as he relayed what he saw, “They smoked it up in there.”

“Weed?”

“Heroin.”

Paul shook his head.

“Those kicks just keep getting harder to find, man.”

Mark smiled, as he looked at the sheet of music in front of him…

“Seems appropriate…”

R.I.P. Paul Revere (1938-2014)

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Friday Fictioneers – The Rack

Have you ever had one of those months where life just kicks you in the nuts? I’m having one of those. So, I hope this will make people feel better.

http://mariegailstratford.wordpress.com/

Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford

The Rack

I traveled far and wide to see a thing of beauty.

I looked at an old wine-rack, now dutifully repurposed as a light display at this dive of a bar. I examined in thoroughly, and saw no flaws. The liquid was resonant, the electrical construction was exquisite.

“How much for that light rack?”

“It’s not for sale. That thing is what makes us half our money.”

“How does an old wine rack do that?”

The bartender I was talking to just laughed.

“Watch.”

As the lights blinked to the music, I suddenly got the urge to buy a bottle of whiskey.

“How much for the whiskey bottle?”

“Heh. See? That’s what it does for me. Subliminal messaging.”

I only noticed that he was still speaking to me after plopping the whiskey bottle into my hand.

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Friday Fictioneers – Now Where Could It Be?

Here’s the latest!

Copyright – Dawn Q. Landau

Now Where Could It Be?

“Agatha? Did you look over in 14B?”

“Yes, I did look over in 14B. I looked in 11-15 for it.”

“How about 47?”

“You think I’m going to go to 47 on a whim?”

“Hey, if it weren’t for you going on about how great this place was, I wouldn’t have had this happen!”

“It’s not my fault you can’t even follow simple directions.”

“Doing archeology in salt flats is not my idea of a good day, and I can follow directions.”

“Then why didn’t you follow them when you put your contacts in?”

“Because I…wait…I FOUND MY CONTACT!”

“Charlie, next time, put them in right…or else I’ll slap them out permanently.”

“GAAAAH! SALT IN MY EYE!!!!”

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Friday Fictioneers – Portal al Puerto

Welcome, fans and friends. Don’t forget to read my last long-piece: “A View From Your Window”. It’s a beautiful piece. Anyhow, here’s this week’s fictioneers piece:

 

copyright – Janet Webb

Portal al Puerto

Sandy was up for the morning, and couldn’t go back to sleep. She knew that she had to be at the U for class by 9, and 7:30 was much too early.

She walked into the bathroom and did her hair. As she brushed the silky blonde locks, she noticed a small little “rip” on the edge of the mirror. She touched it, and pulled back on it.

She noticed, on the other “side” of this mirror, was a doorway. A sideways doorway. She pushed the doorway open, and was immediately sucked in, her skin stretching as she was devoursed by the portal.

The door immediately closed, and the mirror resealed itself. That was the last time anyone saw Sandy…for nearly 5 years.

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Friday Fictioneers – The Keeper Of The Flame

Work has been kicking my butt lately, so I haven’t been as active as I like. Hopefully, I’ll be able to do better now that summer is leaving. Here’s my offering for the fictioneers this week.

 

copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Keeper Of The Flame

I tend to these coals like they are my children. They’re the lifeblood of my tribe.

Without fire, my tribe would have died out a long time ago. Every generation has one person, a boy or a girl, who keeps these flames going constantly. These flames help make our food, bend our metal, and even forge our lore.

My great uncle was a keeper of the flames, my father as well, and it was passed to me when I turned 21. In the shade of the big buildings, there are very few of my kind left.

I am the keeper of the flame. This is my role, this is my life.

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Friday Fictioneers – You Need To Stay

Greetings fans and friends, I should be back up to full steam for stories next week. Other things have been taking me away from the attention, but I should be back with more ideas. Here’s the Fictioneers for the week:

copyright Roger Bultot

You Need To Stay

“Honey, I told you that you need to stay home.”

“But, sweetie, if we’re going to have a comfortable life, I need to go and follow those white lines.”

“I’m sorry, but you cannot go. You cannot be out there all the time. You’re not married to the road.”

“If I’m going to make money for us, I have to be.”

“Doesn’t matter now. Look out the window.”

A few seconds later…

“AGH! My TRUCK! What did you do to it?”

“Didn’t you think it was strange you found me naked in the woods, and wanted to marry me right away?”

“What?!”

“You married a plant nymph, ya ninny. Now get in here and do the dishes!”

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Friday Fictioneers – The Letter

I’m back, though still at limited action for a short bit of time. I will be up fully this week when I can pull my head away from other things.

copyright- Jan Wayne Fields

The Letter

The young lady looked at the paper in front of her. She sighed, as she pushed the chair away from the old desk. Putting the quill back in the ink well, she stood and grabbed her bag that was sitting off to the side.

She expected that her husband would read the letter and get the message. She wanted to get away from the boring nature of life, and this would give some excitement.

She waited for his phone call. And waited. And waited.

She waited a year, and finally said no more. She entered the house, and walked to the study. Her husband lay on the floor, a pool of blood under his head, dried blood on the corner of the small table.

The letter was untouched.

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Message In A Bottle – Friday Fictioneers

It’s been a busy week at the Musical Fiction Factory, or at least in the office…so here’s this week’s Fictioneers story. I have some time off next week, so there’s a good likelihood that a few stories will be in the offing on my vacation days.

 

copyright Marie Gail Stafford

Message In A Bottle

We sat at the table of the faux Chinese restaurant, like we do every Sunday.  I picked up the bottle of hot sauce to douse my fried rice, when I saw it.

“Marie, there’s a note in this hot sauce.”

“What? Well, open it up and get it out!”

Sighing heavily, I did  what she told me. I pulled out the long note, and read it out loud.

“My name is Stewart Copeland. This is my SOS. I’m stuck in the Sriracha factory. I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle.”

I only wonder how long that message has been in that bottle…

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Black Betty (Ram A Lam) – Friday Fictioneers

Don’t forget to visit my latest non-fictioneers fiction piece, called “Trying To Stop Failure “. It could use some love. Anyhow, on with the show…

copyright Adam Ickes

Black Betty (Ram A Lam)

“I remember when I picked that one up. I was out one night with a beauty named Betty. We were about to head back to my place, when this ram came out of nowhere. It wasn’t even a moment after I saw it that I blacked out.”

“What happened next?”

“Well, after I woke up, the ram was dead. My truck was also totaled, and Betty was walking around with a major league concussion. I called up my friend Earl and got him to pick me and the ram up. Betty walked home.”

“What did you do after that?”

“Well, I mounted the ram at the taxidermist and got the head home. I then went to see Betty, and her face was bruised. And that’s everyone now calls her Black Betty.”