Friday Fictioneers – Rose Colored Glasses

(Author’s note: I had some family issues pop up in the last couple weeks, and when it comes to family, I will always give focus to them. Here’s today’s fictioneers…)

© Roger Bultot

Rose Colored Glasses

by Miles H. Rost

“I have a great life where I’m working, living, and being,” Goro said, putting on his hat.

“You’re in a camp house. You can only walk at certain times of the day. You have to be given tests,” Miyoko spat, disgusted.

“I have to have this attitude. If I don’t, I don’t survive. At least I can give everyone something to think about.”

“You let them treat you like good little cattle. They took us from San Francisco to here. They don’t care.”

“Miyoko, I know. I’m not wearing rose colored glasses. But, to help them, I’ll do what I do.”


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Friday Fictioneers – Walking On A Thin Line

(Author’s note: August and September are typically busy times for me at work, so my output may be less… not that it’s much of a departure from previous. Here’s today’s Fictioneers!)

© Krista Strutz

Walking On A Thin Line

by Miles H. Rost

Stewart grabbed his handkerchief and wiped his eyes.

He didn’t want to cry. Seeing the bald eagle that landed on the memorial above him, though, broke everything.

He remembered walking off the plane all those years ago.

The spit. The urine.

The look of disgust on the faces of his classmates when they came to visit his mother, and found him there.

The days alone in his apartment, wondering if that day was his last.

It started looking up when Kristi entered his life, but there was still those memories.

It was this day, though, where that eagle validated everything.

Thanks to Keith Hillman for the Frog

Friday Fictioneers – Chan Chan

(Author’s note: A lot of things have been happening. I hope to be back to weekly posting next week. Depends on everything. Here we go with today’s Fictioneers!)

© Lisa Fox

Chan Chan

by Miles H. Rost

Ernie loved the wind in his hair as he rode his motorcycle across the dusty land.

He got his reputation for being a daredevil during his long journey through various lands, seeing people and doing deadly things “in the name of the Revolution.”

It was one of the few things that allowed him the time away from the many jobs he did, to think and to let the steam off.

It was one of the last times he rode, for he needed to start training the irregulars.

He was always readied for the next day. The day he would die.


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 – It’s Good To Be King

(Author’s note: I have to apologize to all my readers and others who I should be reading. The last couple weeks dealing with the run-up to winter camp left me with little energy to respond, and that’s all on me. I will be doing better, now that camp has started and I have an idea of what’s going on, to actually visit and remark on other people’s stories.

In the meantime, here’s my fictioneers story, and it’s a bit of a historical thing…)

derelict-building-sandra-crook

© Sandra Crook

It’s Good To Be King

by Miles H. Rost

Steve disliked working at the school. It was not something he wanted to do.

He was waiting for news that seemed to never come. Meanwhile, he had to teach these hormonal girls how to write. It was a Sisyphean task.

When he was called to the office, he thought he was in trouble.

“It’s your wife,” the receptionist said, handing him the phone.

“Tabs, what’s going on?”

“Steve, I just got a telegram.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re going to print. They are asking if $4200 is enough.”

Steve smiled. His work about the kids he taught would be published.

Carrie would be unleashed.

(courtesy of Wikimedia)

(Courtesy of the Boston Globe)

Friday Fictioneers – Ride Across The River

(Author’s note: End of February, I go home to America. Until then, I post! Here is this week’s fictioneers.)

rogers-sunset

© Roger Bultot

Ride Across The River 

by Miles H. Rost

Klaus tripped over a broken tree branch.

He hated his commander for staying at this place. It wasn’t safe, and wasn’t protected.

It was Christmas, and he was not wanting to be in this foreign land. He wanted to be home. Any home. He even spoke enough English to get by.

He had made it about two miles when he ran into a vast line of men. One commanding man looked down at him from his horse.

Klaus raised his hands.

“I know English. I surrender. They are not on guard.”

The horseman looked back, and smiled.

“Victory or Death!”

washingtoncrossing

Courtesy of ushistory.com; 1851 picture credit to Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze

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