Visual Fiction

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Friday Fictioneers – Victoria

(Author’s note: Injuries are never fun. Nor is being on a new health plan. Losing weight, feeling good, but dealing with injured appendages. Here’s a throwaway story, as I really couldn’t come up with something that would do the picture justice. Enjoy!)

© Brenda Cox

Victoria

by Miles H. Rost

Introductions were always the hardest part of being a new student.

For Nigel Liew, it was even worse.

The questions would always come: “How can you speak British when you look like that?”, “Do you know Uncle Roger?”, “What do you think of Beijing?”

After a whole day of answering nothing but inane questions, Nigel was about to leave the classroom.

“Hey, Nigel.”
He looked back at a blonde haired kid with a smile on his face.
“What music do you like?”
“Garage rock. The Kinks. “
“Ever heard of “Victoria””?
Nigel’s eyes lit up.
“I thought no one would ask!”

Go on… read more!
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Friday Fictioneers – Good Man In A Storm

(Author’s note: Last week was Thanksgiving, and having to coordinate things got complicated. So no FF last week. Making up with a song I recently found, and a story to go with it. Here’s today’s fictioneers!)

Good Man In A Storm

by Miles H. Rost

Brian Goodwin had a ministry of security.

His home was open to anyone who needed a place of shelter, a hiding place, or a waypoint on a life-changing journey.

Domestic violence situation? He’d be there to give you a place to gather and plan the next steps.

Depressed? He’d be there with tea and a book, and give you a few days to recover.

As long as there was a reference from someone he knew, you’d have access to him and his house.

Years ago, someone showed kindness to Brian, a mute man.

He’s that good man in a storm.

Click the frog, and read more from people like me!

Friday Fictioneers – Digging Up Bones

(Author’s note: I’ve been working overtime, which is one reason why last week had no Fictioneers submission from me. But in my quest to set up healthy habits, including writing 1000 words a day, I’ve now been able to incorporate Friday Fictioneers into that habit section. I am now ready to go. So here’s today, with music from a very underappreciated artist.)

© Alicia Jamtaas

Digging Up Bones

by Miles H. Rost

“All the items you are to take are over there, the rest of the items that are with me and the house are on the other side.”

Paul folded his arms, as Lindsay started to explode.

“That’s it?! That’s all from 15 years of marriage?”
“You really didn’t bring much to it. It shows.”

Lindsay fumed, as she started rifling through the items. She breathed a sigh of relief at finding a set of photo albums.

“Well, at least you didn’t keep the albums.”
“Why would I? I may be a horrible monster, but I know what’s precious to you.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Wine Night

(Author’s note: Make sure you play the music while reading the story, as it is especially important for the story. Enjoy!)

© Fleur Lind

Wine Night

by Miles H. Rost



Waiters always look, and Andrew Cavasa was no different.

As a supervising waiter, he had to be out on the floor to watch employees and patrons alike, and judge performance in his notetaking.

Snatching up the wine glass on table 12, he recalled the quartet of teachers who put down 2 bottles of 2012 Chateauneuf du-Pape. He chuckled at the redhead teacher that seductively danced to the smooth jazz that provided the atmosphere. He never knew teachers like that in school.

It was these small deviations of the day that made his job worth the while.

He liked to watch.

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Friday Fictioneers – When Summer Ends

(Author’s note: Life is treating me a bit better. Spring has sprung, and so has the mood to write. Here we go, starting with Today’s Fictioneers!)

©Ted Strutz

When Summer Ends

by Miles H. Rost

Looking down the hill, Itaewon Street was packed for a Sunday afternoon.

Clubbers, university students, foreign workers and teachers, all were gathering in this international section of Seoul. A cross-section of Korean society could be found here most weekends.

Nigerian farmworkers and South African university teachers mingle with Koreans, of both South and North varieties, at barbecue shacks. Americans and Canadians milled about, looking for respite from the arduous week of teaching.

This was the place to be on the weekend, to not feel so alone in a foreign culture. A place to belong.

It still is the foreigners place.

Picture courtesy of expedia.ca
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Friday Fictioneers – Slender Frame

(Author’s note: Everytime I say I’m going to write more and get things done, life sets me up with other curve balls. Lately, it’s been my health. Not anything particular, just dealing with tiredness due to the type of work I do. It makes a person lazy. But, today, I am feeling particularly well to write. So here we go!)

© David Stewart

Slender Frame

by Miles H. Rost

“Babes, wake up.”

Selena sat up slowly, bleary-eyed at the soft voice of her mate.

“You haven’t been eating much lately. I figured I’d do something nice for us today, Crepes, toast, eggs, bacon for me, and vegetables for you.”

She slowly scooted back, propping herself up against the headboard. She noticed dandelions in water next to the food.

“I haven’t been eating because I couldn’t keep anything down.”
“Is this how it’s going to be?”

He looked out the nearby window, sighing.

“Only for a short time. I mean, morning sickness doesn’t last that long.”
“I really hope so.”

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Friday Fictioneers – I Can’t Look Down

(Author’s note: Nothing! Just enjoy the show!)

If you want to join the list, click here!
© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I Can’t Look Down

by Miles H. Rost

Fear. Palpable. Present. Loud.

Darren McCarthy’s fearful screams could be heard across the restaurant, as his mother whisked him to the darkened coat check room. The check girl immediately saw what was happening and got him into the room quickly.

“Ma’am! Is everything okay?”
“He’s going to be fine. He’s just afraid.”

His mom cradled his head and comforted him.

“What happened, ma’am?”
“He watched a scary movie last night. The artwork in the ceiling made him remember it.”
“Which movie?”
“The Poseidon Adventure.”
“That doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Movies and reality are not so different in his eyes.”

^ The scene involved ^

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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.

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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.

——————–

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!”

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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.