5 Steps

5 Steps
a mini-fiction story by Miles H. Rost

 20150809_132610Picture ©Miles H. Rost

5 steps. Two platforms.

That’s all it is. You tell yourself that as you walk around the corner. Looking up in the midnight sky, there it sits. It calls to you, beckons you to cross underneath it’s latticed metal and rusted rails. The area underneath is totally dark. Very few lights behind you, and in front of you, if any at all.

You’ve taken a deep breath, imagined this moment for a long time. The time when you would have to cross underneath this potential death trap. The red staining on the rails, mixed with the gray metal, reminds you of a mouth with teeth full of silvery-gray fillings. Decayed teeth coming down upon the jaw of the ground awaiting the tiny morsel of sustenance that is you.

You’ve put your foot in front of you, the sound of your foot landing on the paving stones echoing down the seemingly long corridor. The sweat on your forehead is starting to rain down lightly upon the bridge of your nose. A bridge, not unlike that of the rails that are threatening to consume you, heart and soul.

Getting up your last milliliter of courage, you quicken your steps and blaze quickly down the brick-lined tunnel of buildings. You look up at the grey and red metal steps, the five steps in between two platforms, those steps that you think will be eating you momentarily. As you pass under, you look forwards to the other side and you see what looks to be freedom.

At last, you reach the corners of the building. You’re made it past the gauntlet, the metal mouth has not eaten you this day. You breathe a sigh of relief as you turn to your right. That is when you realize the horror is just beginning.

You have now stumbled upon a maze of paths, with jungle-like trees in the middle of it, the door of safety that you have to reach so far away. As you look at the next task at hand, the many possibilities of danger flood into your mind like meat into the mouth of a velociraptor, which may be in those trees there.

Friday Fictioneers: Wheel Of Fortune

A quick note before I get into today’s post.

If some of you are wondering why I haven’t posted any stories in the last week, there were two reasons:

1) I was on vacation for 6 days, which meant doing things that were lazy. Sometimes, ya just need it.

2) I was focusing on my phonology exam, and am currently getting ready to work on methodology.

As time goes along, I’ll get back into writing more stories. For right now, however, I have to focus on a few things.

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Today’s picture comes from David Stewart, my blog-father and great buddy here in Korea.

rescuers

(Copyright – David Stewart)

Wheel Of Fortune

“Okay, we got everyone ready?”

The cameramen looked up at the host of the show, and smiled. He gave a thumbs up, indicating that they were ready.

“3…..2…..1….”

Cameraman brought down his finger, the host smiled and waved at the camera.

“Welcome, everyone, to the first ever “Embarrassment Day” telecast. Tonight, you’re going to see people do amazingly embarassing things for the next hour.”

Cameraman pointed to a second camera, and the host moved to look.

“First, I will inaugurate this show with my own embarrassing display!”

The host ripped off his clothes, and jumped off the building, landing on top of his female on-air partner at the bottom.

“I MEANT TO DO THAT!”

Friday Fictioneers: Break It To Me Gently

It’s Friday. That means Friday Fictioneers for this time period while I study and get things in order. Enjoy today’s selection!

fleeting-copyright-indira-mukherjee

copyright-Indira byway of Scott Vanatter

Break It To Me Gently

by Miles Rost

The truck whizzed down the street, blaring it’s horn and trying to get people out of it’s way.

“Breeeeeak iiiiiiit….to me gentlyyyyyyy.”

“Tommy, stop singing right now!”

“Why? I thought you liked this song.”

“Yes, the way Juice Newton sang it. But not when you, Mr. Firefighter of the year, attempt to kill it.”

“It’s my way of dealing with stress.”

“Like your job?”

“We’re going to put out a fire at a guitar factory, why not make it musical?”

The driver facepalmed in his mind, as he continued to race down the highway.

Friday Fictioneers: Memories

By Miles Rost

copyright-managua-gunn

copyright-managua-gunn

Memories

I remember the day very well.

I was standing at my post, looking out at the rest of the city. It was a warm day, and I sometimes cursed the fact I had to wear such an unappealing uniform on such days.

It was the day when I could do nothing. I stood as a young man drove across the bridge I was facing, and ran over a child.

I wanted to help, I pleaded in my head to help. But I was sworn to a duty to protect this place.

That was the first day when I started to hate my job.

 

I Get Weak

by Miles Rost

She didn’t know what exactly prompted her to go to the roof of her apartment building. All that she knew was that she had to get out of that apartment. She was too closed in, too shut in when sitting in that place. She wanted to break free and not have to worry about that situation.

As she looked out onto the city, all of the pain and the stress in her life simply melted away. The view of a darkening sky, the lights of the tall buildings near her own, all of it was simple. It made sense to her. She loved the simple things in her life, though today she had another that was invading her life.

DaejeonSunset3

She thought of a man that she had never met. She felt his presence in his mind when she was in trouble, when she was stressed. She felt him in her mind at that moment, as she was looking over the city.

It was a long time since she had been held by someone, since she had been able to allow her entire being to melt into the heart of another. She wanted to catch that feeling again, especially with all of that stress and hardship she had to endure. She wanted that comfort, that warm blanket feeling of care and love that would be there.
The simple things in her life would help her to continue doing her work, as stressful and sometimes as thankless as it was. Being a teacher was not a bad job by any stretch of the imagination, but she did not know how to deal with the young hellions that were running all over her during the day. She got used to it a bit, but halfway into the new semester, she was being run ragged. She was not ready to teach young ones.

The thought brought her back to the roof, to the beauty of the city skyline. She was brought back to the comfort of her space, and it calmed her. She loved all of it, all of the space outside of where she was. It reminded her that there was more to life than just the work she did and the toughness of her job.

Her mind drifted back again to the unknown man of her visions. The man standing on a hill in a faraway city, doing nothing but making her weak all over without even being there. She wanted to have that feeling, that weak-in-the-knees feeling again. As she stood there, leaning and looking at the rapidly darkening sky and the increasing number of lights turning on, she knew that one day she would be meeting that mysterious man. She would have her dream career as a professor, and she would be able to be wrapped up in the arms of her mysterious man.

Through The Fire

By Miles Rost

The gentleman looked out over the calm waters of the sea, his mind fresh from the experiences of his past. He could see the land he desired so much in the distance, from this very point. He knew that if he went there, he would be hunted down. He wouldn’t be able to see his young wife, his beautiful and sweet siren. Yes, it was best that he stayed away and did his work as he had done for years in the past.

He realized that he would likely never return to his home, not while the general and his minions were searching for him. A political criminal, the gentleman was able to get out of the country before the nets would have closed on him. Had he stayed for even an extra day, he wouldn’t be standing on that vantage point and looking inward. He would have been held in a small cell, solitary, with nothing to keep him alive except his faith and the bread and water he would get once a day. Such is the usual end for an ethical pamphleteer in his home country.

Hearing the horn’s blearing in the background, the gentleman took one last thoughtful look before he would get in the wagon and travel on his way to his temporary home. He was a man without a home country now. His life would be traveling, preaching, and doing all that he wanted to do. One day, he thought, I will go through the fire to get my sweet siren and take her from that place. She can travel with me.

Beopsando

Picture taken at Beopseongmyeon, Jeollanam-do, South Korea