Friday Fictioneers – Grazin’ In The Grass

(Author’s Notes: None. Write and go, as they say. Enjoy the fictioneers this week!)

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© Sarah Potter

 

Grazin’ In The Grass

 

by Miles H. Rost

Summer.

Hot and humid, but also quite a beautiful time for listening to music.

I’d spend many hours sitting in the breezeway of my house, listening to the radio and recording the disc jockeys doing their thing. It was something that really inspired me.

It went everywhere I would go, but it always returned to that breezeway, close to where Dad did his accounting work and where he’d grow hot peppers. The music of my youth, the soundtrack of my life.

Until I was sent outside to play by my mom. Then I had to take my music with me.

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Friday Fictioneers: Memories

By Miles Rost

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copyright-managua-gunn

Memories

I remember the day very well.

I was standing at my post, looking out at the rest of the city. It was a warm day, and I sometimes cursed the fact I had to wear such an unappealing uniform on such days.

It was the day when I could do nothing. I stood as a young man drove across the bridge I was facing, and ran over a child.

I wanted to help, I pleaded in my head to help. But I was sworn to a duty to protect this place.

That was the first day when I started to hate my job.