(Author’s note: Starting next week, I will be taking a social media break. It will not impact writing, but contact on Twitter, Gab, and Facebook will be curbed for one month. E-mail will be alright, if you need to. Here’s today’s Fictioneers…)
© Liz Young
The Three Of Me
by Miles H. Rost
If you could see what I’ve seen, you’d swear I was not normal.
On one hand, I see like a child. Innocence, virtue, trust, all in one place. One another hand, I see death, vindictiveness, the decay of the world. And on the third hand, the one never seen, there’s pain, deception, and even love.
Every slap a betrayal, every push a declaration of love, every tear a cry for relief and comfort. And each time I am asked the same question: Is it all worth it?
For these children marked from substance abuse: You’re damn right.
(Author’s note: I am currently in the beginning stages of transition from Australia to my next assignment, which will be in…I actually do not know where. We’ll see what happens. Here’s today’s Fictioneers offering, again not based on a true story.)
by Miles H. Rost
Everyone was finally together. All 85 of Mitchell High School’s class of 1995. And the stories were flying.
“Do you remember Joan Snart? Apparently, she’s directing adult films in Hollywood.”
“Can’t be anything like my ex-boyfriend, Russell Graves. He’s the undercarriage cleaner for Greyhound in Seattle.”
The laughter was palpable, and the stories continued. That was, until the name was brought up.
“Anyone heard from Brian McLaurence?”
The entire place had become silent at that instant. The class looked at each other, and bowed their heads.
“Robbery,” someone said, “I was on duty. I found him. Died on scene.”
A sniffle started the flow of tears in the room.