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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 – Treasure Chest

(Author’s note: Things are getting crazy! Here’s some Fictioneers!)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Treasure Chest

by Miles H. Rost

A summer day, and the sound of kids playing filled the air.

This day, it was an adventure. The youngest kid impersonating Sherlock Holmes, the middle kid pushing the swing while the oldest imagined she was a pilot.

After the “flight” was over, they all ran around the quarter acre of property, looking for the treasure that their mother hid earlier that day.

They peered in a hole in the tree. Nothing.

They searched the camper. Nothing.

Finally, the middle kid spotted the box under a rhubarb plant.

They opened the box, and found… condiments.

“KIDS! DINNERTIME! BURGERS!”

“YAY! BURGERS!”

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Friday Fictioneers – Dragonfly

(author’s note: Well well well! Lookie what we have here! One of my pictures! Can’t wait to see what the stories prompt up! Here we go.)

© Me!

Dragonfly

by Miles H. Rost

The names announced. The hats thrown. All that was left were the people as they gathered and started leaving.

Outside of the main auditorium, Quan looked up at the sky as his mother and father were chatting with another group of parents. As they finished, they walked back over to him.

“We’re proud of you, Quan.”

“You made salutatorian, that’s a pretty big honor.”

Quan sighed, as his parents looked at each other, puzzled.

“I could have done better.”

His dad, a former Tianamen Square protester, squared him up.

“Dragonfly, you did the best, and we’re proud. Don’t think otherwise.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Lady

(Author’s note: A lot of life stuff happened over the last couple weeks. I am hoping to have a Fictioneers next week as well, and maybe even a unique story-ette. However, here’s today’s fictioneers!)

© Trish Nankivell

Lady

by Miles H. Rost

When your mind is full, sometimes you just have to sit on a toilet, and El knew this well.

His creative process took him to many places, but sometimes, the bathroom was where he needed to be.

He thought about Brenda, his beautiful wife of four years. He thought about how he looked forward to her days. The ideas flowed onto the paper, as he sat on the throne.

He poured out all that he had been feeling since he married her, even when he was gone with his band. He wanted to be home, and this was his ticket.

El and Brenda. You know him better as Lionel Richie.

Here’s the link to the seemingly tall tale of writing “Lady” on the commode.

Want to see more stories like mine? Click the frog!
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Friday Fictioneers – Inside A Dream

(Author’s note: I turn 41 tomorrow. There’s a lot going on. Let’s just get to it.)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (The BlogMom!)

Inside A Dream

by Miles H. Rost

Delia’s eyes grew wide at the organizer on her daddy’s desk.

“Daddy, can I have paper clip?”

Her father looked down and smiled. His beautiful 6 year old came to work with him, due to inservice days at school. He sat down and lifted her onto his lap, and plucked a silver paper clip out.

Delia worked her fingers, bending, unbending; like lightning she moved. Daddy just closed his eyes, taking the quick break that he was hoping for.

“I’m done!”

He opened his eyes, and looked down at Delia, who had made a house out of one clip.

“How Beautiful!”

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Friday Fictioneers – Who (Are You)?

(Author’s note: Hey! You’ve probably wondered where I went over the last month. Well, honestly, with all the stuff going on in the world, I have been weary and tired. Haven’t been inspired. So, hopefully after today, I’ll be more inspired by the world around me. Here we go!)

glasgow

© C. E. Ayr

Who (Are You)? 

by Miles H. Rost

Pete rushed into the house, happy that Sunday service was finally over.

He ran as quick as his legs could to his room, pulled out a magazine and his notebook from the closet, and quickly returned to the living room.

“Why are you so quick today?” his mum inquired.

“I’m not gonna miss this episode for the world!” young Pete replied, looking at his pens and readying himself.

“You know it doesn’t start for 3 hours, right?”

Pete blinked, then sighed.

“I have to get this letter right, if I want to be the president of the Doctor Who Fan Club.”

Capaldi Who

It’s true. Peter Capaldi DID try to become the head of the Doctor Who Fan Club. The BBC disliked his persistence, and put someone else in his place. But who got the last laugh? 

purple-inlinkz-frog

 

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Friday Fictioneers – Angel In Disguise

(Author’s note: None. It’s Wednesday. Enjoy!)

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© Roger Bultot

Angel In Disguise

by Miles H. Rost

Tom looked over the large lawn on the British estate that he stayed at. He was about to turn around when he felt soft, silky hands wrap around his shoulders.

“Tomas, come back to me.”
“But I’m right here.”
“For good.”
“I want to, but…”
“But what?”

She spun him around and pressed herself upon him.

“I need to decide, Sandra. Nashville or you.”
“Why not both? You work for my dad’s business, then work with Nashville remote?”

She made sense. Her Spanish accent added another level to that sense.

“You’re an angel, Sandra.”
“In disguise, non?”

He enveloped her.

RIP Earl Thomas Conley (1941-2019)

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

 

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Friday Fictioneers – My Old Yellow Car

(Author’s note: And here we are, back again for another Friday Fictioneers. I hope to have some new non-micro-fiction material up soon. Jobs that wear out your mind, however, don’t seem to work very well with keeping up a writing schedule. No longer! I have a secret weapon that will help. So, enjoy today’s missive!)

teds-car-in-the-woods

© Ted Strutz

My Old Yellow Car

by Miles H. Rost

The garage door opened and gasps went up to the heavens.

“What did you do, Dad?”
“I bought an old, rusted and busted ’68 Charger R/T. I figured you and I could work on it.”

The 10-year old looked up, crinkling his nose.

“Couldn’t we have done this with a computer?”
“Do you want to drive when you’re 16?”
“Yeah…”
“This car is yours once it’s fully built.”

His son’s eyes lit up. Then they fell.

“But we don’t have money for parts.”

Dad smiled, and looked around the garage.

“$10 a week. Save up enough, I’ll buy an extra part for free.”

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Friday Fictioneers – It’s In The Way That You Use It

(Author’s note: I will be moving soon. The house I’m in will be sold, and I’ll be moving to another place in another part of town. It’ll be nice, a little closer to work, a little closer to everything. It’ll also be more stable, which means I’ll be able to do more, such as working on this script that I’ve put off for nearly 3 years. Here’s to hoping it works! Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers)

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© Dawn W. Miller

It’s In The Way That You Use It

by Miles H. Rost

We took the train down to Southern California. It was one of the last rides I would take with my grandpa.

“Sonny, I want you to have something.”

I looked up at him, and smiled. He gave me a photo.

“When I leave, I want you to look at this. Especially when you feel down.”
“But Grandpa, you’ll always be around.”
“Not always, Sonny.”
“If I have this picture, you’ll always be there.”

He just smiled.

That was 20 years ago. He died shortly after that. But I always have him with me, on the neck of my guitar on stage.

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Friday Fictioneers – Love Lies Dying

(No author’s note. Just nice! Be with you next week.)

music-room

© Rochelle “The Boss” Wisoff-Fields

Love Lies Dying

by Miles H. Rost

Charles came home from school and ran upstairs without even a hello.

For 7 months, this happened everyday. Only stopped plinking to eat and sleep.

Finally, he came out of his room one day and called a family meeting. As the family gathered, he set up his one-man equipment.

“Family, I’ve slaved 7 months for this moment. To be able to present my new music. I call it “Jingle Rock”.

He played his heart out for 4 long minutes. The family paused, and finally clapped.

“What do you think?”

“You’re 32 years too late, son. They called it AOR back then.”

Charles only facepalmed.

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