(Author’s note: It’s 3-1 in Korea, Revolution Day. This means a day off. The only one I’ll have for the next 2 months. So today, I give my best! Enjoy! And there will be more stories during the week as I go walking and enjoying the nice weather.)
(Author’s Note: I am currently working on some new story-work to add to the blog, outside of the Fictioneers realm, but complications with real life have decided to take over and cause issues. So I am not sure when I’ll be putting up more original longer-form work. But, give it time, and I’ll be able to have more for my audience to peruse. In the meantime, here’s a work that I hope gives you some peace over this holiday season.)
“Mom! Come here!”
“What is it?” Mom asked her son, as he looked out the kitchen window.
“Look at the sky!”
“It’s beautiful, honey, but we see the sky all the time.”
“But Mom, look at the color! Don’t you remember what Brian told us?”
She thought back to when her eldest son was still at home.
“When the sky looks like brimstone, you know I’m on my way.”
She smiled, as she heard a familiar sound roll into the driveway, the exhaust of an old 1975 Harley.
“He kept his promise.”
She smiled, as she walked into the living room, awaiting her eldest son’s first hug in 8 years.
(Author’s Note: Things are stable down here in Melbourne, for the time being. Grades are starting to come in, so we’re waiting to see what happens. Due to my job search, I haven’t have had much time to actually do other writing besides Friday Fictioneers, but I plan to once things get further stabilized. In the meantime, here’s today’s Fictioneers piece.)
The clouds boiled up in the south. The seas were calm, but they would become wild. The man stood near the edge of the craggy sandstone cliff, watching it all unfold.
The first storm of the season was about to hit his small Australian fishing village, and people were getting things ready for the haul that would come in: Felled timber from the western hills, fish from the bay.
“Fiona, you’d be proud of the people you’ve led,” the man said, as he opened the small urn. He tossed the contents into the air, nary a tear being shed.
Author’s Note: My apologies for the lack of communication over the last week. March in Korea is the start of new classes and the week has been incredibly busy with new arrangements, new classes. 11 more weeks of this, and I will be finished with this part of life. Also, if you’re on Facebook, don’t forget to like my author’s page. I would love to be able to communicate and give some of the “behind the scenes” regarding some of my stories.
They were called the “Four Arms”. Brothers-in-arms who did everything together.
Even illicit drugs.
Propped up by a fence, they found the secret stash of ‘shrooms buried among harmless normal mushrooms. They sat back and looked at the sky as they took in the fumes and took out from their own minds.
“Whoa! Look at that cloud up there! It looks…like Cookie Monster!”
The Lady In White (Part 2) (aka Close Enough) by Miles Rost
She invaded my mind again. The sight of the Lady in White upon my mind has been a relief, and a worry yet still. It’s been months since the last time she visited me.
In my mind, we were on a boardwalk, a cement waterfront “street” if you will, in Melbourne. I was walking toward her, and she walked toward me. As we drew closer, it was like a camera got closer to us both. After a few close-ups, our hands finally met. She immediately moved over to my shoulder and laid her head down. She felt so warm and looked so lovely, even if I couldn’t see her face.
For a time, we just stood there, my lady in white trying to get in as close to me as possible, and myself wanting to hold her tighter than ever. She leaned up towards me, her skin slightly glowing in the muted sunlight, and gave me a kiss. A gentle, but long kiss. I remember the sensation, like two lightning bolts jolting through my body and a warmth on my lips that permeated all throughout the upper part of my being. It felt like we were floating on air, traveling through the air like a hot air balloon. As we released, we looked back out at the bay…and found ourselves on the steps of the Opera House in Sydney.
I looked down at her and saw the incredible amount of love that permeated from her. It was a beautiful sight of sparkles, flowing pure light from her entire being. It flowed from every pore, every fiber of hair, and washed over me. It wasn’t lust, the red wave of passion that many men and women envision when they think of their chosen other. It was a love that was pure, that forgives everything and heals. The type of love that God has for all of us. She had that, and it poured like transparent sparkly white ribbons over my being. She looked into my face, my eyes, and she gave me a smile that said “I don’t care what you’ve been through, you’re with me. Let it go.”
She turned around and held onto my shoulders as I put my head down on hers, able to relax and feel so much love flow between us. We just looked out at Sydney Harbour, seeing the calmness of the bay. The sun was fully open, and the white dress she wore glowed like snow on a mountain. It was nearly blinding for most people, but for me, it added a glow that was almost angelic. The wind was light, and it flapped the cloth of her dress like a flag. It felt like this was where I needed to be, where I wanted to be forever, and to never go away again.
A gust of wind picked us up and, unlike before in Melbourne, it whisked us off quickly. Like a kite, we flew through the air in a quick way. It felt still, however, as we traveled to wherever this wind was taking us. As quickly as it happened, we landed on a flat Australian beach somewhere, an overcast sky making things a little colder.
She looked back up at me, and put her soft, gentle hands to my face. The soft skin lightly brushed the growing scrub of hair on my chin, and the warmth of them felt like a glowing incandescent light bulb. I felt a tear start to fall from my eye, and I suddenly collapsed to me knees. She fell with me, as I felt the warm tears flow from my eyes onto her shoulder. All the tears of pain, anguish, hurt, released from my eyes, from my being onto her skin. I knew she was strong enough, but this was remarkable that she was able to take all of this pain and anguish, and simply wick it away like oil into a towel. I felt the blackness, the greys of my emotional heart, slowly being pulled from my self.
She pushed me back slightly, and looked into my eyes. Her eyes, of which color I could not remember, communicated unconditional love. Believe in Christ’s love in me, my beloved, they seemed to say, as she comforted me. All that went through my mind at that moment was who this woman was, and how God could make her to be so strong and so forgiving. So loving, that she would be willing to take that pain and shame I had and totally remove it, and still gaze into my eyes and say things without words.
She moved to me again, and pressed her soft lips onto mine. As I realized I was slowly starting to wake, I remember feeling that softness of her lips still pressed upon mine.
I don’t know who she is. I can’t see her face, I only know that she’s the lady in white. What I do know, though, is that she is a woman of unimaginable grace and beauty, of true godliness and forgiveness. I pray that I can meet her. Soon.
Music and Fiction 