(Author’s note: Still in the process of finding a job, but I am getting a bunch of looks. Hope to have something soon, even if it’s temporary. Gotta make money to spend money. Here’s tonight’s fictioneers!)
© Jill Wisoff
by Miles H. Rost
“Get me outta here.”
Carl Baker wanted to go home. He wanted to be with his horses, apricot orchard, and all the things he loved.
His wife wanted to see the Big City. Rockefeller Center was the bullseye for the trip.
“Dang, honey. That building’s big.”
“It’s said that the family built it, then they sold it off.”
“Well, they kinda had to. After all, it was my family that cut them off in the depression.”
His wife looked at him strangely.
“Your family knew the Rockefellers?”
“We owned the bank. The Rockefellers were city slickers. Can we go now?”
(Author’s note: Welcome aboard! So after the adventures of being SO creative last week, I had to deal with a week of problems and work. It is likely I will only be posting Fictioneers stuff for this week and next week, as I have a lot of assignments due for workshopping this week, as well as getting things started for some of my larger papers. So, for now, here’s the latest Friday Fictioneers story.)
© C.E. Ayr
Burning Down The House
by Miles H. Rost
Tom Corrigan extended his middle finger toward his unfinished project.
As he drove his gas tanker on the expressway, he passed by the old building that was to be his crowning achievement. Or, rather, the demolition that was.
“That damn building cost me my job,” he grumbled to himself.
For but a moment he thought of this, then switched lanes and exited onto a side street. He took another turn, heading back the direction he went. He reached the street that the landmark building stood on and sneered at it.
“I can’t let a job go unfinished,” he cried out, mashing the gas and shifting the gears.