November 15, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – The Red Plains

(Author’s note: I am writing this in a hunt and peck form due to my left wrist being cracked. I will likely be in a splint for 4 weeks, then in a wrist brace for 4 more…depending. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers.)

©J. Hardy Carroll

The Red Plains

by Miles H. Rost

Rubble.

That is what was left of the old brownstone building in downtown Lincoln, Nebraska.

Andy Patridge looked at the charred papers strewn about the grounds. His 40 years of law and life, gone in 20 minutes.

“Any idea of who caused this?”

The fire chief looked at Andy and furrowed his caterpillar brows.

“You keep thinking someone did this. We have no clue how this was done.”

“Actually,” the arson examiner popped up behind them, “I can conclude that it was likely his ex-wife that did it.”

“How’d you know that?” The chief balked.

“Spraypainted message. Says, “Die, you arseluch.”

“Great…”

November 8, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Puttin’ On The Ritz

(Author’s Note: Well, things are about to get busy with me regarding my eventual move back to the United States. Currently whittling down the cities that I may move to, and hoping that I’ll be able to find something upon my return. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers…with a little extra spice.)

Puttin’ On The Ritz

by Miles H. Rost

“Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the Ritz?”

“Down two blocks, left one block, on your left.”

The brown-skinned man in the top hat gave him a bow and smiled in thanks.

“Say…haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

He smiled at the question, thinking.

“Oh, maybe.”

“What’s your name?”

“I am Taco,” he replied, a slight bit of Dutch coming out of his throat.

“I asked your name, not what you ate.”

He laughed, and gave him a salute.

“Look on MTV tonight. You’ll see.”

He turned, smiled, and whistled an Irving Berlin tune.

November 1, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Mama Can’t Buy You Love

(Author’s notes: Learning new stuff coming up. We’ll see what happens! Here’s today’s fictioneers!)

Mama Can’t Buy You Love

by Miles H. Rost

“Why are we in a bowl shop?” Harley asked.

“Mom told me to pick something, and she’ll buy it,” Clarissa replied.

“But, sweetheart, whenever she buys you something, you’re depressed for weeks.”

“It makes me happy.”

“Clarissa, it doesn’t. Your mom doesn’t want you happy. She wants you obedient.”

“Then what do you propose, Harley?”

“Why not let me make you happy?”

“How would you make me happy? Can you buy me things?”

“No, but instead you’ll have a home to call your own. And a husband who loves you.”

“A what…?”

“Would you marry me?”

Clarissa dropped the bowl.

October 25, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Ride Across The River

(Author’s note: End of February, I go home to America. Until then, I post! Here is this week’s fictioneers.)

Ride Across The River

by Miles H. Rost

Klaus tripped over a broken tree branch.

He hated his commander for staying at this place. It wasn’t safe, and wasn’t protected.

It was Christmas, and he was not wanting to be in this foreign land. He wanted to be home. Any home. He even spoke enough English to get by.

He had made it about two miles when he ran into a vast line of men. One commanding man looked down at him from his horse.

Klaus raised his hands.

“I know English. I surrender. They are not on guard.”

The horseman looked back, and smiled.

“Victory or Death!”

Courtesy of ushistory.com; 1851 picture credit to Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze

October 18, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Glad It Was You

(Author’s note: So, if you’re on Facebook, you probably found out this past week. But for those who are not, I’ve made the decision (with some help from the Lord, and a bunch of preschool children) to go back home to the USA for a time. I am not sure how long it’ll be, but it should be enough. And I’m in a good place to go and do things. I’ll keep everyone abreast, but it is likely I will be landing on American soil around March 1st.

Time for some fictioneers!)

Glad It Was You

by Miles H. Rost

The tree bled from the hole the fireworks made.

That’s what Marty remembered, as it happened 5 years past. And here he was, again, looking up. He turned as he heard footsteps.

“So after all this time, you’re back here again,” Katrina said. A redhead, she didn’t look any older than before.

“Not much further from where I began, eh?”

She looked up at the tree.

“Remember?”

“We set off fireworks. One of them landed there, on that hole.”

“That hole hadn’t closed up until last week, when you arrived.”

“Guess it needed both of us.”

“I’m glad,” she said, warmly.

October 11, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Bird Is The Word

(Author’s note: Big things to announce soon, not necessarily blog related, but we’ll see how things work. Otherwise, enjoy!)

Bird Is The Word

by Miles H. Rost

“You. You are a birdbrain!”

Ornithological expert Phil Kilanowski looked up from his desk.

“Come again?”

“You are a birdbrain. That’s all you have on your mind!” his wife, Melanie, cried out. She had a crow on each shoulder.

“Oh! You made friends with Phobos and Deimos! Excellent! This is great for my study on the social habits of crows!”

Melanie blinked.

“And the osprey in the living room?”

“Oh, he’ll be back at the university next week.”

“No, he’ll be back at the university tonight. Along with all others. Or your dinner will taste like chicken.”

Phil’s face went white.

October 4, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Moon Over Georgia

(Author’s note: I’m sick. This means my brains are warped. Enjoooo~oy!)

© Ted Strutz

The Moon Over Georgia
by Miles H. Rost

The voice was husky, tough yet soft.

“You have a choice, Melinda.”

The werewolf turned around and stared at his daughter, a blonde-furred beauty.

“Your inheritance will be released to you early, if you marry Martin.”

He gestured to a black-furred werewolf from a tribe in Idaho.

“Or marry Gerald, whom you claim to love; and renounce everything, yet be free of the curse.”

He gestured to a plain-looking, bespectacled man of around 30.

Melinda looked, then latched onto Gerald and jumped off the yacht.

Melinda bobbed up after a moment; her fur and muzzle both gone.

She would marry Gerald, instead.

(Warning: Strong Language.) (This is the inspiration, in a way.)

September 27, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Human Touch

(Author’s notes: A lot of things will be happening in the next couple months, mostly outside of this blog. But, I plan to do everything in my power to make sure that some benefits reach each one of you, my readers. I am hoping to see some fruit come soon, and I pray that you all will be enjoying things.

Also, quick greetings to all comers from My Music Canvas and Oh My Gloss!. Welcome to Music and Fiction! Put your feet up and read a bit! Here’s today’s fictioneers!)

by Miles H. Rost

The machinist always worked quietly in the back of the building.

He kept to his work, only coming up to meet people to collect payment.

He was young, good looking, but painfully shy. His bravery shown through when wielding metal and acetylene torches.

He heard a clang up at the front. Grabbing a torch, he creeped up behind large metal sheets, and caught the noisemaker as they were coming around the corner.

“Who are you?” he demanded, looking into the welding mask of the culprit.

The mask went up, revealing a pretty woman’s face.

“I’ve been looking for you, Machinist.”

September 20, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Breaking Hearts

(Author’s note: Thank you, everyone, for your notes on last week’s fictioneers. It was a big undertaking, though people may not have known it. Anyhow, here’s this week’s fictioneers!)

Breaking Hearts (Ain’t What It Used To Be)

by Miles H. Rost

Paul froze, chilled by what he saw.

The old pair of shoes, the ones he used to wear when stepping out, lay sprawled in the back of his closet.

The shoes reminded him of what others termed “the good old days”, the days when free blow and free sex was in high supply.

He violently flung them out the window of his brownstone, one shoe accidentally smashing into a cat perched on top of a garbage can.

Paul moved slowly to his couch, the place he spent the most time. Covered up under a blanket, he awaited his fate.

Alone.

September 13, 2017 by Miles Rost

Friday Fictioneers – Hold On My Heart

(Author’s note: A couple things to add this time.

First, I’d like to welcome a new person to the link-world of Music And Fiction. My good friend Sarah Kim does a special music blog, called My Music Canvas, where she features lots of different music from all over. She’s an incredible musical soul, and someone who is very passionate about it. And being as this blog IS called “Music and Fiction”, there had to be a good connection. So everyone should go over to My Music Canvas, and drop a little note to Sarah about the music she looks at and discusses.

Next, this last year has been a bit of a difficult one in trying to write more than just fictioneers. However, I did write a very short story. It was something I just needed to get out, and even though the wording may seem unbelievable, it really doesn’t matter. It’s something that needed to be written and posted on here. So if you have the notion, go over to my longer-fiction work called “No Promises“, and enjoy.

Now, onto a very heart-laden Friday Fictioneers (which like most of my stories are not based on true events, unless I say so. ^_-)

Hold On My Heart

by Miles H. Rost

He scraped the knife across the piece of bread.

The peanut butter rolled on like a blanket, melting slightly as it touched the hot dough.

Rolling like the tear that tumbled down his cheek.

Each spread brought one more tear.

He dipped the sticky knife into the jar of homemade cherry jam, pulling out the red preserves.

He sniffed.

He spread the thick and sweet concoction on the other slice.

Another tear teetered on his chin.

He wrapped the sandwich, and put it in his bag. He dried his face, and sighed.

He found that tears added something to sandwiches.