Friday Fictioneers – Life Is A Lemon…

(Author’s Note: Do you know how sore a person can get if they have not actually gone to a gym and exercised properly? Well, I’m that guy. Arms are about as sore as can be. But, you know what? It’s worth it. In 6 months, in 1 year, I will be further in shape. This is good for a writer. And, further, Happy Independence Day. To all veterans who fought for our freedom: We cannot owe you enough. There is not enough in this world to give that makes up for the years you sacrificed. Take honor in what you have done. Here’s the fictioneers!)

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© J. Hardy Carroll

Life Is A Lemon…

by Miles H. Rost

Gasps so loud, they silenced everything else.

The protesters outside the conference center couldn’t believe what they saw.

A college-aged woman had walked through their line, stood in front, and took off her leg.

Cherry strands of hair glided across her face as a breeze came through.

She stood there, hands stretched to the side, on one leg.

For 5 minutes, no one moved. No one did anything. They just stood and stared.

She smiled, looking around.

“I think y’all got the point,” she said, as she put her leg back on.

She put her pant leg down, and walked away.

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Friday Fictioneers – The Road Not Taken

(Author’s note: With the final part of my Korean experience finally complete, I now focus on the next phase of life. This means that Music and Fiction will likely get an upgrade/update in some way. Once I get settled back in a routine, this should happen. Until then, it’s Fictioneers and other stories I plan to write. Hope you enjoy today’s offering!)

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© Bjorn Rudberg

The Road Not Taken

by Miles H. Rost

“Daddy, do you ever wish you did something different?”

Paul looked down at his daughter, 9 years old and ever inquisitive.

“There are one or two things, sweetie. But, then you wouldn’t be here. That’s not a wish I would make.”

She put her arms around his waist, and hugged tightly.

“Do you regret losing your arm?”

He looked down at his sweetie, and sadly smiled.

“My arm saved 4 men in Iraq, sweetie. I would not trade that, no.”

Paul swept his arm under her and picked her up.

“Honey, my arm brought me home. No regrets.”

“I love you, Daddy!”

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