Friday Fictioneers – De Plane! De Plane!

(Author’s note: For lack of a better term, July was hell. Lots of stuff going on, and on top of all of it…I got sick. Hence why I haven’t posted in 3-4 weeks. But I’m back, and here we go!)

ted-strutz-plane

© Ted Strutz

De Plane! De Plane! 

by Miles H. Rost

“I won’t do it!”

“Herv, they love you. Everyone loves you.”

“They think I’m short. A cute doll! The audience…they love Tattoo! They don’t love Herve.”

“What about your fans from the Bond films?”

“Nick Nack! That’s all I’m known as!”

His agent looked at him and shook his head.

“You do realize if you do this event, you’ll be able to help children, right?”

He looked up, and his countenance eased.

“The children want to see Tattoo, Nick Nack, and Herve Villechaize. All together. One package.”

Herve smiled, as he slid off the chair.

“It’s for the children.”

Herve Villechaize, in the earlier days, would visit crime scenes where children were affected, and he would help comfort them. 

 

Friday Fictioneers – Skating

(Author’s note: Doing something dangerous. Took off my splint and am writing this properly. Putting splint back on after it’s done, but so far…no problems. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers…just for all y’all.)

russells-bw

© The Court Jester of Friday Fictioneers, Russell Gayer

Skating

by Miles H. Rost

Running from the frozen lake, Brian Gerlach saw the open shed and the toilet.

“Brian, come on! We’ve only got another hour before our moms call us for dinner.”
“But I really gotta go!”
“Fine, but you’re on your own!”

He didn’t need their help. He’d use the toilet and get back to skating. It was winter after all.

He sat down on the snow-colored commode and did his business. He tried to stand up, but his behind wouldn’t budge.

Worse yet, the water around his skates had since frozen up.

He cried for help, worried that it wouldn’t come.

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – Couple Days Off

(Author’s note: I get my couple days off in a few weeks. Hopefully gonna be able to rest. In the meantime, enjoy today’s fictioneers…)

claire-sheldon

© Claire Shelton

Couple Days Off

by Miles H. Rost

Brad had more holes in his fingers than a sieve.

He was on staple number 1590, he knew because every time he took one out, it pricked him. This was his punishment, this was his purgatory.

“I really just want to get out of here…”

5PM couldn’t come fast enough, and as soon as he saw the hand hit 12, he quickly stood up and ran for the door.

“Hold it there, bucko,” a familiar, nasal voice piped up from behind him. He knew that Mr. Gibbons was behind him.

“It’s 5, Mr. Gibbons. I’m outta here.”

“Where are your TPS reports?”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

wpimg

 

Friday Fictioneers – Paradise

(In Korea, today is known as Buddha’s Birthday. While I am not a follower of Buddha, I am thankful that the Koreans gives a national holiday off. Now if only they could give tomorrow off…but that’s asking too much. Here’s today’s fictioneers.)

 

sandra-crook-1

© Sandra Crook

Paradise

by Miles H. Rost

Brock ran into the portico, looking around quickly.

The vacation was supposed to be a dream. Perth, Australia was to be a dream for Brock Adamson. A dual citizen of France and Canada, he was easily waved into the country on his tourist visa.

And after only a couple days, on the run due to his past. A past that had two men following him and nearly taking off one of his legs.

He ran inside the building, and looked at the receptionist.

“Oui?”

“Mademoiselle, I need safety. I’m being chased.”

“We know. We’ve been waiting.”

*click*

wpimg

 

 

Friday Fictioneers – Driving Home For Christmas

(Author’s Note: Merry Christmas. When I find out more info, I could have updates. To make it simple: I may be moving to public school teaching. Otherwise, here’s today’s Fictioneers! Merry Christmas, yet again!)

 

diner-roger-bultot

© Roger Bultot

Driving Home For Christmas

by Miles H. Rost

Justin Lamphere walked. Carrying a pack and a gas can, he held his thumb out. Around his thumb, a keychain with the picture of a 7 year old girl.

“I hope I can get home to you, peanut,” he said, as though she was there.

Just as he turned around, he heard a vehicle pull over onto the gravel.

“Hey!” he heard a shout from the car, “Trying to get home for Christmas, Marine?”

“Yeah!” Justin called out, running towards the car.

“Which city?”

“Charlestown!”

“Get your butt in here, maggot! We’re getting you home!”

Thank you, Lord…and thank you, Chesty Puller, he thought.

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – (They’re Coming To) America

(Author’s Note: Nothing. On with the show!)

PHOTO PROMPT- Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

(To Look For) America

by Miles H. Rost

“So that’s the beacon of freedom?”

“It was.”

The young girl looked off the side of the boat, seeing the burnt out remains of the Battery Park area from the boat.

“Was?”

“Didn’t you know? This country has long lost it’s freedom.”

The young girl looked up at her papa.

“But why did people lose their freedom?”

“Because they listened to the wrong people. And in turn, they let the wrong people get power.”

“Why are we going there?”

He hefted up his Bible and energy pistol.

“Transiens Adiuva Nos”

The little girl finally understood, as the boat slowly passed under a gaping hole in the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Winelight

 

© C.E. Ayr

Winelight

by Miles H. Rost

“The old city has changed since we got married.”

Jeanette Brunwick and her husband Gary looked around as they cruised down the middle of the river on their pleasurecraft. They returned to their city after 15 years away.

“Remember that the old cannery used to be right there,” she said, pointing to an area that now sat an arena.

“That was where I stole my first kiss from you. The first night we drank wine, and figured that we’d be sommeliers.”

“The winelight, the moonlight. And now it’s obstructed by baseball games.”

“You can never return home,” Gary said, sighing.

 

Friday Fictioneers – New Year On High

(Author’s Note: The first Fictioneers of 2016, and I’m doing something a little different: Unique name, same great music and fiction you’ve come to love and enjoy! Next week’s writing will come from Cheongju, South Korea.)

 

© Melanie Greenwood

New Year On High

by Miles H. Rost

“I never though I’d see fireworks like this!”
“You mean, from ten thousand feet up in a jet?”
“This was a great idea, Mitch. You really made my New Year’s!”
“And I would like to make many more of these with you. Though, if you told me 9 years ago that I was going to be taking my worst enemy from high school up in my own private jet to celebrate New Year’s above Sydney…”
“And who would have though that I would actually be dating my sworn enemy in the first place.”
“Well, Melinda, they say people who hate each other sometimes really have too much love.”
“Wish I knew that back then. Would–“

Friday Fictioneers – Bright Eyes

(Author’s note: Happy new year, everyone! Here’s to your 2016, and here’s the last Fictioneers of the year. Hope to have more stuff in 2016 besides Friday Fictioneers.)

© Jean L. Hays

Bright Eyes

by Miles H. Rost

Eyes stared out of the window of the coffee shop.

The windows of the real estate office across the street were suddenly covered with darkening window hangings.

Half of the people in the coffee shop looked in shock, while the other half kept drinking their lattes like nothing had happened.

One person knelt in the street, looking into the eyes of their loved one. The loved one looked up, the energy in their eyes slowly melting away.

She called for help. Called for someone to call an ambulance. She looked into the eyes of the people in the coffee shop.

They all turned back to their coffee.

Stay The Night

by Miles Rost

“Mmmmfmfmflhmfm”

Teresa’s eyes slowly started to open as she turned over and mumbled. She saw her husband sitting up and the lamp turned on. Stifling a yawn, she sleepily looked at his back.

“Why are you up?”

Her husband turned around and smiled a weak, sad smile.

“They called me in. A patient is barely holding on.”

Teresa glowered at this, and lowered her eyes a bit. Lately this had been a common occurrence, and she did not want to wake up to an empty bed anymore. She was clearly unhappy, and Rahim Carlson, her husband of over 5 years, knew it.

“I really wish they’d quit calling you at night. I mean, why can’t they find another surgeon?”

“Honey, the next closest thoracic surgeon to us is down in Thousand Oaks. That’s nearly 2 hours away.”

Teresa slowly sat up and rubbed her green eyes. She smoothed her satin chemise as she looked up at him, wisps of blonde hair falling in front of her face.

“Maybe we should think of moving somewhere else. You’ve been doing this for more than two years now!”

Rahim looked at her, and gave a funny smile.

“I’ve thought of that too. Right now, though, we are here in Bakersfield for a purpose. They need a thoracic surgeon of great quality. The good news is that the prospect from USC Medical Center is looking at Bakersfield General for a move. If we can get him in, I can look for another surgeon’s job somewhere else. But that’s almost 6 months down the line.”

She sat, slumped in defeat as she knew there was nothing she could do.

“Rahim, I really do wish that you could stay the night. Let a little of that love show. Just for one week, I want to have you all to myself. I don’t want all that matters turning around, over and over again.”

As he was buttoning the top button, he looked at her. This woman, his wonderful wife, was in need and he felt like there was nothing he could do. He had his duty, and he had his wife. He studied her face, every part of her that was exposed to his vision, and sighed to himself. He looked in the mirror, and stood stony for a moment. Teresa knew this. It was his “prayer stand”, where he would ask the Lord for guidance. As she got out of bed and turned towards him, he turned back to her, a slight smile on his face.

“I just had a thought…give me a moment,” he said, as he grabbed the phone. He quickly dialed a 10 digit number and waited.

“Hey, Smitty. Sorry for waking you up so early. You doing okay?” He waited a moment, then launched right in. “Hey, you know how you said you wanted to take a shot at doing some surgery up here at Bakersfield, right? I just got called in, but I can’t make it to the hospital in time. It would take me about 4 hours to get there. You’re closer, would you like to take a run at it?”

He paused again, a flit of a smile running across his face.

“Great! Call up Nurse Chelsey Marks, and have her connect you with Brian Markinson. You remember him, right? He’s in charge of night shift, and should be able to accomodate you. I’ll call him in just a moment and get you cleared.” He waited a moment. “You got it! We’ll talk next week, okay? Uh huh! Bye.”

He then proceeded to call Dr. Markinson and inform him that he was unable to make it. He was, unfortunately, detained and wouldn’t be able to make it there on time. After a little shake-off, he closed the phone, and proceeded to take his shirt back off.

“What do you think, Teresa? You still want me to stay the night?”

Teresa looked at him, as she slowly walked over. She put her arms around him and laid her head on his chest.

“I hate the fact that you actually lied to your bosses to get out of work tonight. But in this case, I will forgive you.”

Rahim looked at his God-given wife, and smiled.

“Sweetie, you’re worth it even if I would get fired.”