(Author’s Note: Currently working on my summer plans, and it’s going to be quite interesting come August. Here’s today’s fictioneers, and if you know the title/song, then you know why I used it.)
Set Me In Motion
by Miles H. Rost
Sarah Jeon was in tears.
Her family home in rural Kentucky had burned down. It spread too fast for her to get the two small teddy bears that were her last connection to her birth mom in Korea.
While firemen hosed down the hollow house, one walked over from the remains of her bedroom, carrying something in a sheet.
“Little lady,” the 6-foot-5 firefighter boomed, as he kneeled down to look at the 8 year old, “This little one was looking for you.”
He opened the sheet, her bear only singed
“Kimchi!” she cried.
She hugged and cried into his shoulder.
(Author’s note: Hoping to publish some actual stories in the near future. It’s more that right now I just need to survive the next three months at work. Once I get that done with, it’s all better sailing from there. Enjoy my throw back to the past. )
© J. Hardy Carroll
A White Sport Coat (and a Pink Carnation)
by Miles H. Rost
40 years ago, I met a beautiful young lady named Michelle. We were in an art class at a local community center.
We grew close. We dressed up fashionably, to go out dancing and impress our friends on campus.
After each night of dancing, we’d doff our clothing and work on our art, painting each other in all that God gave us.
I told her that I would love her forever.
40 years later, I have bought the building, the old art hall where we met. The art hall that was destroyed by grenades fired by national guardmen.
The hall where she died.
(Author’s note: Nothing again. Have a great week, and enjoy today’s fictioneers…with a song that many of you will likely never have heard, but will fall in love with.)
© Roger Bultot
Love Is A Mystery
by Miles H. Rost
He sat at the counter of the diner, waiting for the other customers to leave. He’d be the last customer in there before the sign was flipped closed.
He took his last sip of coffee, when he heard the clicking of heels got closer.
“Miranda, it’s good to hear your shoes again.”
Miranda snorted, as she helped her date from the counter chair.
“No luck finding someone new?” she asked with a sneer
“Nah. Just found myself down here. Waiting for you to come get me.”
She smiled. She didn’t know why, but she just couldn’t give up him up.
(Author’s Note: None. Just enjoy today’s fictioneers! And Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms.)
© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The park was full of them. Each and every one of them a precious life.
It was always this way after the first warm-up of the season. Kids in their sweatshirts and jeans were playing. It was great for us adults to see.
I just turned onto 45th when the sun blazed between the two large buildings ahead. I squinted and got my visor down as quickly as possible.
That’s when I heard the thump.
Then the screams.
I stopped my car immediately, got out, and looked behind me.
She wore orange that day. I didn’t see her.
She was 12.
R.I.P. Roberto Concina (aka Robert Miles)
In Korea, today is known as Buddha’s Birthday. While I am not a follower of Buddha, I am thankful that the Koreans gives a national holiday off. Now if only they could give tomorrow off…but that’s asking too much. Here’s today’s fictioneers.
© Sandra Crook
by Miles H. Rost
Brock ran into the portico, looking around quickly.
The vacation was supposed to be a dream. Perth, Australia was to be a dream for Brock Adamson. A dual citizen of France and Canada, he was easily waved into the country on his tourist visa.
And after only a couple days, on the run due to his past. A past that had two men following him and nearly taking off one of his legs.
He ran inside the building, and looked at the receptionist.
“Mademoiselle, I need safety. I’m being chased.”
“We know. We’ve been waiting.”
(Author’s Note: My job is a tough one. It doesn’t leave me with much time to actually spend writing more things. I come home from work, and I am really tired. We’ll see what happens. In the meantime, here’s today’s fictioneers.)
© Liz Young
Grandpa was never the same after we discovered the faded tombstone out back.
“I loved her. Love was the only crime I was guilty of. They can’t take that!”
We didn’t know what happened, but the words “throat cancer” and “1965” were constantly on his breath.
For weeks, he wouldn’t do anything except sit on the bench near the makeshift grave he made all those years ago.
One morning, we walked outside to see him hugging the gravestone.
“Grandpa, breakfast is ready!”
We walked over to shake him. He was cold, and he was gone.
(Author’s Note: I have one or two things that need to be addressed this weekend, but I am planning to work on some new longer works coming up soon. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers…if you dare read…)
© Magaly Guerrero
“Eric, you better come home this instant!”
“But, honey! I just got a promotion, and the boys are celebrating.”
“Not tonight you aren’t. You may have been promoted, but you’re still my husband. Get back here now!”
“If you don’t come home, I’m putting on the red shoes.”
“Yes, Eric honey?”
“You don’t have to put on the red shoes. Or the red dress tonight. I’ll be home shortly.”
Roxanne sat back, chuckled as she looked at the box with the magic butt-kicking shoes inside.
“Best five dollars I ever paid.”