Friday Fictioneers – The Red Plains

(Author’s note: I am writing this in a hunt and peck form due to my left wrist being cracked. I will likely be in a splint for4 weeks, then in a wrist brace for 4 more…depending. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers.)

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©J. Hardy Carroll

The Red Plains

by Miles H. Rost

Rubble.

That is what was left of the old brownstone building in downtown Lincoln, Nebraska.

Andy Patridge looked at the charred papers strewn about the grounds. His 40 years of law and life, gone in 20 minutes.

“Any idea of who caused this?”

The fire chief looked at Andy and furrowed his caterpillar brows.

“You keep thinking someone did this. We have no clue how this was done.”

“Actually,” the arson examiner popped up behind them, “I can conclude that it was likely his ex-wife that did it.”

“How’d you know that?” The chief balked.

“Spraypainted message. Says, “Die, you arseluch.”

“Great…”

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Friday Fictioneers – Breaking Hearts

(Author’s note: Thank you, everyone, for your notes on last week’s fictioneers. It was a big undertaking, though people may not have known it. Anyhow, here’s this week’s fictioneers!)

old-shoes-cobwebs

© Sarah Potter

Breaking Hearts (Ain’t What It Used To Be)

by Miles H. Rost

Paul froze, chilled by what he saw.

The old pair of shoes, the ones he used to wear when stepping out, lay sprawled in the back of his closet.

The shoes reminded him of what others termed “the good old days”, the days when free blow and free sex was in high supply.

He violently flung them out the window of his brownstone, one shoe accidentally smashing into a cat perched on top of a garbage can.

Paul moved slowly to his couch, the place he spent the most time. Covered up under a blanket, he awaited his fate.

Alone.

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