Friday Fictioneers – Sandy

(Author’s note: I have been gone the last couple weeks, due to many different issues coming up and rearing their head, such as a digestive issue. I intend on doing more. It’s just taking a little longer to get things moving. Here’s today’s Fictioneers!)

box-office-ted-strutz

©Ted Strutz

Sandy

by Miles H. Rost

Jim stood outside the bus depot, cigarette in hand, cold air on his face. A rush of exhaust passed by him as a Greyhound pulled up.

“Sorry, I’m late, Jim,” His partner, Warren, huffed as he ran up the sidewalk towards him.

“This better work, Warren. I quit a job buying lingerie for this.”

“It will. They want to take our work and turn it into a musical.”

Jim crushed his cigarette.

“New York, here we come, eh?”

“Well, let’s see what they say. I just hope they don’t turn Sandy into something strange.”

“Like an Australian?”

Chuckling, they boarded.

olivia-newton-john-grease-sandy

Courtesy of The Disney Odessey

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Friday Fictioneers – Upstairs in My House

(Author’s note: Things are getting little better, and I’m likely getting more time to do writing work. You may see an uptick in original work soon. My job isn’t as tiring as it used to be. Enjoy today’s view!)

ceayr-3

© C. E. Ayr

Upstairs In My House

by Miles H. Rost

The scenery was beautiful.

Westgate Bridge was far in the distance, but I could see it’s shadow looming on the water.

The setting sun brought forth it’s bright oranges and reds, a blanket to cover the entirety of Melbourne.

One of the hottest days of the year started moving down into a cooler and comfortable night. The lights of the CityLink, the sounds of Swanston, I could enjoy them all from my own place.

28th floor, looking down over the city. Temporarily. But it was still wonderful. It was a shame to leave it behind.

Such is the squatter’s life.

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Friday Fictioneers – Only The Young

(Author’s note: I’ve been a year at my job now. I am quite pleased. Celebrate with me in the Fictioneers!)

pastedgraphic-9

©J. Hardy Carroll

Only The Young

by Miles H. Rost

Bradley turned nine today.

The party was spectacular. His friends played in the yard, ate hot dogs and burgers, devoured cake like it was nothing.

After it was all done, he sat by my side, watching his favorite evening TV show, Tour of Duty. 

“Daddy, will I ever have to go to war?”

I looked down at him, my eyes remembering the days when I asked that question.

“Not unless you want to.”
“Are you sure?”
“They don’t force you to go anymore. Not like when I was 18.”

He curled up next to me, as we silently finished the show.

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Friday Fictioneers – As Lights Fall

(Author’s note: Job is getting more hectic, more busy. Hoping to have more time now to do things. Didn’t get it last week. Here’s this week’s work:)

on-route-66-jean-l-hays

© Jean L. Hays

Reach

by Miles H. Rost

An investment of decades.

Bart slowly scanned the large stretch of land in Eastern Oregon that he called home. The sun was approaching the horizon, bathing him in an eerie orange.

He bought the land with a major investment he made just after World War II. He did well with the cattle, until he sold them a month before. The sale put into a safe trust for his grandchildren, provided they took up a marketable trade.

He put his back to the rock, and watched the sun go down.

As his final breath left him, it was his last call.

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Friday Fictioneers – Josephine

(Author’s statement: My apologies. Last week’s miss of the Friday Fictioneers was due to having back to back medical treatments and getting home VERY late. So I will try to make up for it this week. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers:)

on-the-beach-with-sandra

© Sandra Crook

Josephine

by Miles H. Rost

High tide. Sitting on the beach.

The water comes around, bathing the lower half of my body.

Josephine is next to me.

I look down and smile. She loves the ocean, and everything that comes with it. Always did.

She grew up by the ocean, even took jobs on the fishing boats in her teens. Boys called her “Tuna”.

She set the record for largest ahi tuna caught in the province. She was a senior in high school then.

I stand, and pick Josephine up. I open the top, and pour her out.

Josephine, I send you all my love.

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Friday Fictioneers – Angel In Disguise

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

cloister-roger-b

© 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)

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Friday Fictioneers – Touchdown

(Author’s note: Starting next week, I’ll be back to doing weekly posts for fictioneers. PT is lowered to once a week. Here’s today’s fictioneers to celebrate!)

trees-ronda-del-boccio

© Ronda Del Bacco

Touchdown

by Miles H. Rost

“10 seconds left, 5 points down. It’s up to Sahle, his road to recovery, and his team to make it.

“Y’know, Max, it’s amazing how he came back from a catastrophic leg injury in week one to be able to play tonight. The question is: Is he well enough?”

“We’ll know in a moment as they come out of the huddle. Sahle sounds off, Hillman in motion, and here’s the snap. Fakes a handoff, but can’t find his fielder. It does not look good…wait, he’s taking off. Wholly holes, he found one and he’s smokin’.

20…10…5… Touchdown, Sahle! That’s some leg work!”

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