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Friday Fictioneers – Providence

© David Stewart

Providence
by Miles H. Rost

Marsha didn’t know what to do.

Nearly everyone she knew, even clergy, attempted to exert pressure on her to kill the child she carried. The child of a megalomaniacal old man who would execute an entire generation of people over one more dime.

She knelt, weeping, in the garden prison that was the mansion in Geneva, strands of hemp rope on her palm.

*click*

The creaking of the gate caught her attention, and she saw one of her friends peek her head through.

“C’mon, Marsha. We’ll get you somewhere safe.”

Without hesitating, Marsha jumped up and ran, her providence received.

You know you want to… Click it.
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Friday Fictioneers – My Hometown

(Author’s note: I took a month off of writing completely. Things have been a little bit busy with work and I was in a bit of a jam writing-wise. The jam is slowly removing itself, and I am starting to get back into the swing of it with a 3 work-day vacation this week, a “use-it-or-lose-it” thing. Today’s last item caps off a year that was, in a lot of ways, not the best year for a great number of folk. But, take it as you will. Here’s today’s last Fictioneers of 2022.)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

My Hometown

by Miles H. Rost

Granddad opened the Nicosean Bakery along Latrobe Street in 1927, before all the other Greeks came to Melbourne.

Visitors, tourists, and famous people would come in at various times for traditional Baklava, piping hot finikia, or even traditional raised and filled donuts.

Dad took over in 1974, and the institution served to the Greek Orthodox community every year with its specialty breads.

2021 was to be the year I took over. But that disease came, and the officials who bought our baked goods shut us down. “Safety” they said.

Dad lost his life soon after. Without work, he was nothing.

(NOTE: This story is fictional. Treat it as such.)

Go ahead. Click it. You know you wanna.
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Friday Fictioneers – Bloom

(Author’s note: After a month of preparing, moving, and finally getting ensconced in my location, I’ve now moved out of the big city and I’m now out in a small town. It already feels good, even if it’s unusual for how I’ve been living. Anyhow, here’s some new Fictioneers with a song that I first heard in a coffee shop in Seoul back in 2016.)

© Dale Rogerson

Bloom

by Miles H. Rost

Pierre thumped forward as the brakes took hold.

He did not see the stop sign until just about late. Had he ran the sign, he would have run into Renault that turned from the side street.

It had been the case all week where he would see the bloom and become transfixed. He nearly wiped out an Uber driver, two semis, and a Polizei cruiser with his inattentiveness.

He pulled over and got out, sitting on the hood of the car and gazing lost at the blooms. He sighed, alternating between the blooms and a picture of his deceased child.

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Friday Fictioneers – Slender Frame

(Author’s note: Everytime I say I’m going to write more and get things done, life sets me up with other curve balls. Lately, it’s been my health. Not anything particular, just dealing with tiredness due to the type of work I do. It makes a person lazy. But, today, I am feeling particularly well to write. So here we go!)

© David Stewart

Slender Frame

by Miles H. Rost

“Babes, wake up.”

Selena sat up slowly, bleary-eyed at the soft voice of her mate.

“You haven’t been eating much lately. I figured I’d do something nice for us today, Crepes, toast, eggs, bacon for me, and vegetables for you.”

She slowly scooted back, propping herself up against the headboard. She noticed dandelions in water next to the food.

“I haven’t been eating because I couldn’t keep anything down.”
“Is this how it’s going to be?”

He looked out the nearby window, sighing.

“Only for a short time. I mean, morning sickness doesn’t last that long.”
“I really hope so.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Got A Hold On Me

(Author’s Note: Nothing new to report. Here’s a fictioneers story.)

gateway-jhardy

© J. Hardy Carroll

Got A Hold On Me

by Miles H. Rost

Harley Parkinson looked at his inheritance, an old structure of a building he once lived in.

“Harley! Came to look at the place?”
He saw her. His old friend, and caretaker of the residence, Carissa Blanks.

“You’ve taken care of the place.”
“Since you left a decade ago.”
“Well, you’ve always been a good friend of the family.”
“Though, I’ve always thought it would be better to be part of the family.”

Harley chuckled, as he looked up.

“Remember what we did in the attic?”
“Yep. Have proof of it.”
“Huh?”

A 10 year old girl peeked from behind her mom.

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Friday Fictioneers – Three Of Me

(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…)

broken-face-liz

© 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.

I’m not.

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.

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