Friday Fictioneers

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Friday Fictioneers – Blue Blue Sky

(Author’s note: Mental health is very important. I’ve had to take a few weeks off, again, because of too much information overload. As I grow older, it seems my capacity for information has grown to be lesser. I am doing fine today, but who knows how I will be next week. Let’s enjoy today, and this fictioneers piece. Please enjoy the music, and the story that goes with it!)

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© Ronda Del Boccio

Blue Blue Sky

by Miles H. Rost

2000 feet above the Yamhill Valley, Patricia breathed in the air.

“If I could stay up here forever, I would.”
“Not a terrestrial person?” Her husband responded, turning the valve to take them a slight bit higher.
“There’s just so much down there. So much going on, so much trouble.”

She didn’t seem wrong, in her husband’s eyes. The more peaceful a place, the better.

“We’re going to have to go down eventually.”
“I know. I just want to stay up here as long as I can.”

They started a very slow descent, mirroring the setting sun out in the distance.

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Friday Fictioneers – Groove

(Author’s Note: When work gets busier, I get less time to write. Things are starting to slow down, so that helps out. Here’s this week’s Friday Fictioneers!)

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© C.E. Ayr

Groove

by Miles H. Rost

Vladimir and his band had everything ready within a minute of taking the stage. No need to tune, as it was already done.

This was Festival Saturday. This was their time to shine, as a new band with something his region never thought they’d ever hear.

With a nod, Bruska smashed the cymbals and broke into his steady 4 beat. Mariska joined at the same time, gliding over the Yamaha DX-7 with funky flair. Duma’s Nile Rodgers style guitar lick meshed with Vlad’s bass plucks, creating a groove pocket that was unmistakable.

The influence of American jazz and fusion had arrived.

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Friday Fictioneers – I Miss You

(Author’s note: Not much to say. “Quarantine” continues. Enjoy today’s missive!)

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©Dale Rogerson

I Miss You

by Miles H. Rost

8:45.

Kristina scanned the half-filled restaurant, bringing her eye to the empty table with the bright pink carnation.

“Hey, Jamie.”

The blonde at the end of the diner counter peeked her head up from under, a clattering of dishes announcing her.

“Have you seen Bart? He’s usually here at 7.”
“You mean table 9. Meatloaf, taters, and corn. Coffee with cream. Key Lime pie,”
“Yeah, that’s him.”

Jamie turner her head, staring out the front door.

“He died this morning. Rolled over to go to sleep, and … there.”

Kristina hung her head. Tears started to fall, as the hole in her heart gaped.

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Friday Fictioneers – Postcards from Paris

(Author’s note: The subject of today’s writing seemed a bit obvious, so I figured I’d go with an obvious choice for music and theme. Enjoy!)

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© C.E. Ayr

Postcards from Paris

by Miles H. Rost

Percy, the great lawyer, expert toastmaster, had no words.

He peered across the city from his temporary office. He had very little time to see the “City of Love”, with a merger that was looming over him. Once it completed, he sat back and took a breath.

He opened his briefcase and pulled out another folder. Looking through the paperwork, he sighed. He glanced at the Eiffel Tower, then at the Arc du Triomphe, and finally pushed the paperwork into the auto shredder.

He pulled out his phone and hit 1.

“Honey, Merger’s done. Set up the counseling appointment. I’m there. ”

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Friday Fictioneers – Down By The Sea

(Author’s note: Not much to report. Here’s today’s great work!)

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© Roger Bultot

Down By The Sea

by Miles H. Rost

“Oi! We’re goin’ for brekkie. Wanna go?”

Laying out in the ever increasing light of the morning sun, Paul was at his glory. He gave them a shake of the head, as he continued to tan.

“That’s on you! It’s gonna be a ripper.”
“It’s going to be over 40 today. I want to get my sun before staying inside and roasting.”

The boys all just left, as Paul took in the sea air that came up from Port Phillip Bay. He loved the morning, when it was sunny but still cool.

This was rest time. He wasn’t giving it up.

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Friday Fictioneers – 1000 Miles From Nowhere

(Author’s Note: To say the world has changed is a vast understatement. The new normals are staying inside, fear, and so much more. Working from home is a newer normal. There’s a lot going on. Hence why I haven’t posted in a month. But, I have the time and the patience, so here’s this week’s offering. Keep your eyes peeled in the upcoming weeks for more content. I have a feeling that these stay-at-home rules will become the seeds that bear out creativity.)

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© Jeff Arnold

1000 Miles From Nowhere

by Miles H. Rost

Mindy and Matthew awoke to silence.

Blessed. Calm. Silence.

For the last 3 days, their small yacht was tossed and turned on some of the fiercest waves they had ever seen. Waves double the magnitude of the ones they saw on the Cook Strait during the Australian Regatta.

They both slowly slithered from under their covers, and made their way toward the deck.

Cresting the stairs, they saw the black sky of the storm to their east, a rainbow cutting across. A long expanse of other boats filled the near shore.

The storm led them to shore, the rainbow indicating so.

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Friday Fictioneers – Turn Your Love Around

(Author’s note: I got the FTE position at work. We’re just waiting for information. However, today’s fiction deals with those who may not have this newfound security.)

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© Roger Bultot

Turn Your Love Around

by Miles H. Rost

George Benson wafted from the speaker of the small grocery store.

“Vegetables? That’s all you have?”
“Yep. We won’t be receiving out other groceries for a week at least.”

Brian’s mouth dropped.

“You’ve never been short before. What gives?”

The grocer took in a nervous breath.

“It’s not us. It’s the distributor. Shut down because of that nasty virus everyone’s talking about.”
“The company has no other way to get supplies?”
“Nope. Once we run out here, we shut down until we get our shipments.”

Brian turned his eyes down.

“Thanks, Charlie,” he concluded, ready to pay for his vegetables.

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Friday Fictioneers – Reunion

(Author’s note: Well, I did it. I got the full-time job. This means a little more security, and means a little more stability for my writing schedule. I am hoping to be back up to speed fully. Also, my health has taken a turn for the better, so I am celebrating. Enjoy today’s fictioneers.)

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© Dawn Miller

Reunion

by Miles H. Rost

20 years passed since I left high school. I did things many of my classmates didn’t, in that time.

I left Minnesota, I left the United States, I left the Western Hemisphere, and the Northern too.

The funny thing is: I missed some of my classmates.

Tarik, the funny man of my choir days, keeps Minnesota’s air pure.

Dave’s doing great farm work in the Dakotas. Margot is keeping America’s workers safe. Adrienne is helping people achieve their best, and Chad’s keeping the mail moving.

Some of our paths chosen, some chosen for us. But for one weekend, we are together.

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Oh hai thar! It’s a-me! And the school that I used to go to.

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Friday Fictioneers – Lost In Your Eyes

(Author’s note: Everytime I post, I keep apologizing for not posting more. I really don’t have an excuse this month. I celebrated my 40th birthday, had some great things happen, and may have some more soon. I just haven’t been keeping active in writing. The Wednesday writing sessions are usually where I get my writing, then I don’t do much more for the week. I am hoping to change this, but it’s going to take some monumental work to do so.

Until then, here’s this week’s fictioneers:) 

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© Dale Rogerson

Lost In Your Eyes

by Miles H. Rost

Cherry thought she was going to fly off.

White-knuckling her boyfriend’s love handles, she tried moving with the curve of the speeding snowmachine.

Brandon just entered the snowmobile path that circled the playground, a roundabout for the machines, and roared up. He sped into each turn until reaching the beginning again, then did a quick donut, facing where he came from.

He looked behind him, staring deep into Cherry’s deep jade eyes.

Her eyes crinkled, an obvious smile on her face.

He revved up the snowmachine, and tore around the circle once more before rocketing down the snow lane.

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Friday Fictioneers – I Am I Said

(Writer’s notes: Most of you have seen that my output has been low lately. I’ll make it easy and simple: My work is mentally exhausting. I generally like to write, but when I get home from tough days of figuring out problems, I sometimes don’t have the capability to write. I am working on it for 2020, however, and hope to have more. I definitely have ideas. Here’s today’s fictioneers…)

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© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 I Am I Said

by Miles Rost

Eschel looked down at the foyer table. Yarmulke on one side, phone on other.

He wanted to go to synagogue tonight, but the attacks on his brethren nearby in Westchester were still playing through his mind.

His wife, Lillia, pleaded with him to call an Uber, or a taxi, to take him there. She didn’t want to see him jumped like the ones in Brooklyn last week.

He bowed for a second, before putting on the yarmulke.

“I am not afraid. I’m Jewish. There’s no crime in that.”

He wrapped his long coat around him, and went out the door.

(In memory of those who lost their lives while enjoying Hanukkah celebrations with their rabbi in New York.)

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