Friday Fictioneers – One More River

Friday Fictioneers – One More River

(Author’s note: It’s hot. It’s sweltery. It’s insanely weird outside. And there are thunderstorms on the way. All I can say is…time to write!)

One More River

by Miles H. Rost

Sweat.

It got in Giuseppi’s eyes, down his striped shirt, and soaked through his beret.

He made sure none of it got on the bottles of milk he was ferrying. One last bridge, one last load, then homeward.

He saw the dock, and started to guide his gondola over.

“LOOK OUT!”

Giuseppi looked to his right, in time to see a yacht twice his size ram him, cutting clean through the gondola.

Shock. Fear. Anger.

He glared at the yacht, grabbed a bottle of milk that hadn’t sunk, and chucked it at the yacht.

He went down with all the milk.

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Friday Fictioneers – King Of Wishful Thinking

(Author’s note: Late on the story tonight. In the middle of cleaning the apartment for the next tenant, and getting all my stuff ready to move out. I hope to have a bit more time coming up to get things done, and to do more with the blog. 

My time in Korea is ending. I will have a celebration post coming up, along with a State of the Blog very soon…likely while waiting for my flight in 2 weeks. Anyhow, enjoy today’s fictioneers.)

js-brand

© J.S. Brand

King Of Wishful Thinking

by Miles H. Rost

“What would you do with $10,000,000?”

The longtime fisherman dusted off his hands, and smiled.

“I’d fix this boat up properly, and then take it on a world tour.”

Laughs bubbled from the kids that sat on the dock, watching the old man.

“Your boat won’t go. Hasn’t for two years,” one of the snotty ones remarked.

Henry looked down.

“Sometimes gotta look at reality before experiencing it.”

The kids were silent, as Henry scraped more paint off the keel.

“Can’t work on a boat when your wife is sick, right? King of wishful thinking, y’know.”

They got up and left.

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Friday Fictioneers – Winelight

 

© C.E. Ayr

Winelight

by Miles H. Rost

“The old city has changed since we got married.”

Jeanette Brunwick and her husband Gary looked around as they cruised down the middle of the river on their pleasurecraft. They returned to their city after 15 years away.

“Remember that the old cannery used to be right there,” she said, pointing to an area that now sat an arena.

“That was where I stole my first kiss from you. The first night we drank wine, and figured that we’d be sommeliers.”

“The winelight, the moonlight. And now it’s obstructed by baseball games.”

“You can never return home,” Gary said, sighing.