Friday Fictioneers

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Friday Fictioneers – I’m Holding My Own

No news, just Fictioneers:

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© Jan Wayne Fields

I’m Holding My Own

by Miles H. Rost

“Mitch, how long have you been living out here for?”
“Well, Sheena threw me out about two and a half years ago, and I didn’t find this place until the fall. I’d probably say almost two years now.”

The man took a long draught of his brew, looked around at Mitch’s “home”.

“And you like it here?”
“Yeah. I go to work for 8 hours, then come home to nature.”
“What about heat?”
“Sleeping bag, and if necessary, a good woman.”

The man took another long draw from his bottle.

“I have what I need right here. I am quite content.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Partners In Crime

(Author’s note: Have a happy thanksgiving, everyone!)

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© C.E. Ayr

Partners In Crime

by Miles H. Rost

“This isn’t right.”

Phil Markowitz looked back, staring straight into the eyes of his best friend, Elena Katakova.

“What isn’t?”
“All of this. We’re trespassing, and we don’t even know where this door goes.”
“I do.”
“I thought you said you were never here before.”
“I did.”
“So then how…”
“I came from the other end of what lays behind the door.”

Elena scowled, as they moved the chain within the old lion pit at the zoo.

“Elena, get ready to have your socks knocked off.”

He opened the door, and immediately heard a roar. He shut the door.

“Weeeeeeeeeell… maybe not. RUN!”

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Friday Fictioneers – Kashmir (Sweater)

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© Bjorn Rydberg

Kashmir (Sweater)

by Miles H. Rost

Mark lifted his head up from his book, as he heard the sweet sounds of a cello waft over him. Within the confines of the coffee shop, this was a perfect sound at a perfect moment.

He looked around and spied the young cellist, wearing a beautiful white cashmere cable-knit sweater and a flowing brown skirt. She looked up at him through garnet-rimmed glasses and strands of wavy brown hair, smiling.

“So, I finally got your attention.”

“Cindy? Why did you want my attention?”

“You told me you didn’t like cellos. They didn’t rock.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m here to prove they can.”

The first strains of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” rose from the cello, and Mark instantly knew he was going to eat humble pie.

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Friday Fictioneers – Steppin’ Out

(Author’s Note: Thought things were going to be late due to the election and the results…but I was able to get them looked at, and was able to spend time. I think I should have time for more long-fiction coming up. We’ll see. Anyhow, here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

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© Sandra Crook

Steppin’ Out

by Miles H. Rost

“How about this hat? Don’t I look good in it?”

“Honey, you look like one of the locals in that. It’s like you’re wearing the board from Family Feud on your head.”

“Oh, poo. You’re no fun.”

Christine Bakshri smiled, as she turned around and looked at the other hats in the market of Tashkent. Her beau, Henry, looked bored but was secretly enjoying himself.

“Henry, do you think we’ll ever return home?”

“We stepped out of the country for a year. Do we really want to step back in?”

Christine thoughtfully looked around.

“Naaaaaaah!”

They gave a wave, and continued walking down the market street.

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Friday Fictioneers – Missing You

(Author’s Note: My most recent work has been seen by a few people, but could use a little more viewage. 2300 words for a work that I decided to let run on it’s own. Go read “Hunters of the Night“, and see what you think. Otherwise, here’s the next Fictioneers for ya.)

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© Jean L. Hays

Missing You

by Miles H. Rost

The new roads probably don’t fit my style anymore. Interstates everywhere, they say.

Can’t make your way in the city anymore, the cities are starting to crumble and fall. Egos everywhere.

Then there’s me. I sit along the road, waiting. Once in a while someone stops in, they take a look around or attempt to get inside, but they can’t. They’ll hop in their car and leave.

I’ll probably be around under the foundations crumble, until the weather takes its toll and finally does me in. But until then, I’ll stay standing.

Hidden landmarks are always found by those who choose to search.

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Friday Fictioneers – Waiting In My Dreams

(Author’s Note: Dealing with a sinus infection, headache related to, and all this other jazz. Forgive me if things seem a bit off.)

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©Peter Abbey

Waiting In My Dreams

The pathway was dark, surrounding me with the litter of my mind. Things said, things written. At the end, I saw a solitary man.

“Let me through,” I said.
“You didn’t do things right this time,” the man said
“Want to make a bet?”

I pulled out my tazer and made him ride the lightning. After a good 10 second jolt, I stepped back and waited.

He didn’t move an inch.

“I am not afraid of you,” I said defiantly.
“Probably not. But you’re still not getting through.”
“Why?”
“Not your time yet.”
“Then I’m sitting here until my time comes.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Building Bridges

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© Claire Fuller

Building Bridges

by Miles H. Rost

A bell jingled flatly.

Gerald the storekeeper looked up, noticing the teenage girl spying different products on the shelves. He opened the window to let the sea air fill the tiny shop.

The girl kept looking around, and when Gerald got a good look at her, he smiled.

“Ophelia Krain! What are you doing here?”

She looked up and crinkled her eyes.

“Tryin’ to find a special lure.”

Gerald stopped for a second. Why would a pretty girl need a lure?

“Any reason?”

“Dad’s coming to visit”, she beamed.

Gerald frowned at her.

“I hope he’s not going to stay long…”, he said, grabbing the brass knuckles under his cabinet.

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Friday Fictioneers – Workin’ On It

(A tribute to all writers who struggle through constant writer’s block)

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© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (our Blogmother!)

by Miles H. Rost

Mug of coffee? Check.

Scratch paper and plenty of 0.5 HB lead sharps? Check.

Typewriter ribbon changed? Check.

Circuit breaker off, lamps on? Check.

He was ready. Nothing could distract him, and nothing could get him down. He was going to write and that was that. He put his fingers on the keyboard and breathed.

And he breathed again.

3 hours later, he was still breathing. Not a single word typed.

He removed his hands from the keyboard and sighed.

“There goes my day…”

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Friday Fictioneers – Moonies!

 

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©C.E. Ayr

Moonies!

by Miles H. Rost

“Michelle! Come here!”

Yumi Tanaka bounced on her 12-year old feet, waiting for her gaijin homestay to come and join her.

“What is it, Yumi?”
“You remember that show I wanted to show you?”
“No, I think I was studying…”
“Come on, Michelle. Time to go watch!”

Michelle Davis was pulled into the living room of the comfortable suburban Tokyo home. Plopping down on some pillows, the show started.

“What’s the name of this show?”
“Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon!”
“Ugh. Sounds weird…”

<15 years later>

“Welcome to L.A.X.” the speakers droned.

Michelle waited at the gate, smiling. A short blue-haired bob jumped up and down.

“Ami!”
Yumi Tanaka’s eyes turned around and opened wide!
“Rei!”

“I missed you!” they said as they hugged.

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Friday Fictioneers – Dear Jacqui

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Photo Prompt © Amy Reese

Dear Jacqui

by Miles H. Rost

A letter, received in the post on a Sunday

Dear Jacqui,

I am at peace. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, because I am doing what needs to be done.

I did what I had to do, to help you get the peace you never had while we were together. All of this, just to say “I love you” in a way I couldn’t before.

Don’t think bad of me for what I’m doing. I don’t care about myself. Never did. I only want you to be happy.

It’ll all be over in a minute.

My love and goodbye to you.

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