Friday Fictioneers – Slender Frame

(Author’s note: Everytime I say I’m going to write more and get things done, life sets me up with other curve balls. Lately, it’s been my health. Not anything particular, just dealing with tiredness due to the type of work I do. It makes a person lazy. But, today, I am feeling particularly well to write. So here we go!)

© David Stewart

Slender Frame

by Miles H. Rost

“Babes, wake up.”

Selena sat up slowly, bleary-eyed at the soft voice of her mate.

“You haven’t been eating much lately. I figured I’d do something nice for us today, Crepes, toast, eggs, bacon for me, and vegetables for you.”

She slowly scooted back, propping herself up against the headboard. She noticed dandelions in water next to the food.

“I haven’t been eating because I couldn’t keep anything down.”
“Is this how it’s going to be?”

He looked out the nearby window, sighing.

“Only for a short time. I mean, morning sickness doesn’t last that long.”
“I really hope so.”

Friday Fictioneers – (The) Mission Bell

(Author’s Note: I have a feeling I know who A. Noni Mouse is, because I’ve seen that kitchen before. If I’m wrong, then someone has the exact same layout for a kitchen than others I know… )

anonymous-kitchen-photo

©A. Noni Mouse

The Mission Bell

by Miles H. Rost

“You finished the dishes, Harlan?”

“Yeah.”

Harlan didn’t say too much. He knew that when the bell rang, he’d have to be off to work. He didn’t want to leave many words behind.

“I baked a cherry pie. Want a piece?”

“Thanks, Caiera, but no.”

Caiera knew that Harlan didn’t want to say much. She tried to make him as comfortable as he could, before that bell sounded.

With long silence between them, it was cut by the church bell’s chime.

Harlan picked up his rifle bag, and went to the door where Caiera snuck a kiss.

A sniper’s life.

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Friday Fictioneers – …The Laboring Man

(Author’s Note: I’ve had to take some time off recently, in order to get things in order. I am moving this coming weekend, hopefully to a place where I’ll be able to save up and get my own pad. But in that time, I get to enjoy new music, which I get to add to my list. One such song is what you’re going to hear tonight. Here’s the fictioneers! [By the way, watch the video and tell me how many celebrities you see. If you get all of them, you get a custom salute from me!])

goats_and_graves_3_randy_mazie

© Randy Mazie

How Can The Laboring Man Find Time For Self Culture

by Miles H. Rost

“If you don’t find time to relax, Brian…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll end up in my grave. You’ve said that for the last 20 years, Jeana.”

Two heart attacks confirmed Jeana’s words, and Brian knew it. He just couldn’t rest until she was comfortable.

“There’s an exhibit about the history of underwear at the museum. We should go.”

“And put me in an early grave?”

“How?”

Brian looked at her flatly, Jeana finally realizing that an exhibit like that would, actually, make his heart pressure soar.

“Maybe we can watch the Rock Hall Inductions.”

“Alright,” Jeana sighed.

At least he would relax.

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Friday Fictioneers – You Don’t Mess Around With Gym

(No Author’s Note! Enjoy things!)

j-hardy-boxing-gym

© J. Hardy Carroll

You Don’t Mess Around With Gym

by Miles H. Rost

“Hey, James! Roster’s up!”

James Barclay slapped his gloves on the canvas and sauntered over. His bruised eye looked it over.

“Bugs Jacobs again?! I put him flat 2 weeks ago.”

“He’s persistent,” Marti replied.

“He’s a flippin’ pest.”

Marti grinned, her smile as bright as her hair was. She strutted to the canvas and gave it a slap.

“Wanna practice what you did to him last time?”

James chuckled, as he wrapped his arms around her.

“When I married you, I didn’t think you’d be so bloodthirsty.”

“Well, folks know not to mess around with James.”

“Except you.”

Marti winked.

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Friday Fictioneers – Little Lies

(Author’s note: Such great responses from everyone for last week’s piece. I will respond this evening, I’m just dealing with a lot of crunk related to winter camp here. Hope to have more coming up after the camp is done. Otherwise, here’s a good one, being written while the moon is starting to eclipse…)

stumps

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Little Lies

by Miles H. Rost

“So, where did you get all that wood from?”

Christine looked at her husband, who just gazed down at his shiny boots.

“I went out and cut a couple at the edge of the…”

“Bull.”

Mike stared at her with that word, and started to fume.

“You didn’t cut down the trees, because there’d be sawdust on your boots.”

“I used the chainsaw.”

“It’d still be there. I told you to cut the trees down, and you went and bought wood.”

Mike sighed, as he gave her a note.

“It was given. There’s the proof that people know we’re poor.”

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Friday Fictioneers – The Red Shoes

(Author’s Note: I have one or two things that need to be addressed this weekend, but I am planning to work on some new longer works coming up soon. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers…if you dare read…)

shoes-and-books-by-magaly-guerrero

© Magaly Guerrero

“Eric, you better come home this instant!”

“But, honey! I just got a promotion, and the boys are celebrating.”

“Not tonight you aren’t. You may have been promoted, but you’re still my husband. Get back here now!”

“But honey…”

“If you don’t come home, I’m putting on the red shoes.”

Silence.

“Roxanne?”

“Yes, Eric honey?”

“You don’t have to put on the red shoes. Or the red dress tonight. I’ll be home shortly.”

*click*

Roxanne sat back, chuckled as she looked at the box with the magic butt-kicking shoes inside.

“Best five dollars I ever paid.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Mandolin Rain

(Author’s note: Currently dealing with work issues that crop up like rocks in a plowed field. Gotta pick them and toss them, and keep chugging away. I’ll have more stuff soon. In the meantime, enjoy this Fictioneers post. BTW, if you’re in Australia, Germany, Mexico, Japan, or New Zealand, you won’t be able to watch the video. Look for Bruce Hornsby and The Range – Mandolin Rain)

 

© Mary Shipman

Mandolin Rain

by Miles H. Rost

We walked into the house, clothes soaking wet after a downpour that we didn’t expect.

“Honey, take your clothes off before going into the living room. I don’t want the carpet to get water on it.”
“So where are you going to put them, since we don’t have our dryer yet?”
“We’ll go Korean-style.”
“Where ya going to hang them from?”
“The rafters? The chandelier?

I took a breath, and looked around.

“Well, at least it’s not going to be occupied.”
“By whom?”
“Well, I was thinking…”

My face turned beet red. She started sputtering.

Friday Fictioneers – You Need To Stay

Greetings fans and friends, I should be back up to full steam for stories next week. Other things have been taking me away from the attention, but I should be back with more ideas. Here’s the Fictioneers for the week:

copyright Roger Bultot

You Need To Stay

“Honey, I told you that you need to stay home.”

“But, sweetie, if we’re going to have a comfortable life, I need to go and follow those white lines.”

“I’m sorry, but you cannot go. You cannot be out there all the time. You’re not married to the road.”

“If I’m going to make money for us, I have to be.”

“Doesn’t matter now. Look out the window.”

A few seconds later…

“AGH! My TRUCK! What did you do to it?”

“Didn’t you think it was strange you found me naked in the woods, and wanted to marry me right away?”

“What?!”

“You married a plant nymph, ya ninny. Now get in here and do the dishes!”

Survival

by Miles Rost

 

A white house overlooked the car-filled street near the beaches in Santa Monica. A ranch-style house, it was home to Travis and Rebecca Bentley, a husband and wife team whose lives had more ups and downs than a rollercoaster at Six Flags Magic Mountain.

Travis pulled into the driveway of the home. A record engineer in his mid-30s, he married his wife 11 years prior, after graduating from Cal State Fullerton and getting his first job at Capitol Records’ famous underground studios.

He got out of the car, pulling a briefcase and a pair of headphones out of the passenger seat. As he walked up the walkway to the front of the house, Rebecca opened the door and held the door open. He walked to the door and bent his head down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She sighed at this and walked in behind him.

“Everything okay, Rebecca? You don’t normally greet me at the door,” he asked, placing his bag and headphones on the table. He turned around to look at her and give her his full attention.

“We’ve been married for 11 years, Travis. I figured it was a time for a little spontaneity,” she said, turning her face away.

He looked at her and blinked for just a few seconds.

“You’re not usually bashful like this,” he said, trying to figure out things like she was a jigsaw puzzle, “Are you sure everything is going okay?”

She looked back at him with fake offense.

“I can’t greet my husband at the door? What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t do that once in a while?”

Travis smiled and shook his head. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass bottle of Mountain Dew. He popped the top with his thumbs, shooting the cap into the air in an arc. The cap pirouetted across the room and into a giant highball glass full of bottle caps. He smiled with pride and walked to his wife. He led her to the living room, and sat her down on the couch.

“Now, Rebecca, what’s going on? I feel like I haven’t been observant of something.”

Rebecca looked down in her lap and smiled.

“Have you ever been to Australia?”

“No, I don’t think I ever have been.”

“Would you ever think about living there, or doing your work down there?”

“If I was offered a job down there, and the record company was willing to pay for our relocation, I think I would. Australia is a burgeoning musical market.”

Rebecca smiled at this revelation.

“Well, what if I told you that there were possible opportunities for both of us down there?”

Travis let his eyes drift into hers, and he tried to read her.

“Go on.”

“You always knew that I wanted to put my degree to good use. I applied to an opening at Monash University in Melbourne a few months ago, and had an interview with one of their folks when they were in town last month. They contacted me today, and they are interested in offering me an adjunct position that pays about the same as what you make right now.”

Travis face went from anticipation, to shock, and then spread to a grin.

“Why didn’t you tell me this last month?”

“I didn’t really think about it that much. I figured it would be a possible opportunity.”

He smiled.

“Do you want the job?”

“Honestly? Yeah. I would love to teach students the art of finances.”

“Would they pay to relocate both of us?”

“They said that they may be able to do that, but they would want you to find work down there within a year of arrival.”

I’ll let the moon announce my arrival, to every eye that cares to see.

Rebecca looked puzzled.

“Oh, it’s from the latest album I’m engineering.”

“Which band?”

“You remember that band America? Sister Golden Hair? Ventura Highway?”

Rebecca nodded, only realizing after a moment that he was talking about a world-class band. Her eyes went wide.

“Wait…YOU are the engineer for THEM?!”

Travis smiled.

“Just finished engineering the latest album. That’s why I’ve been a bit distant the last three months”

“And why you couldn’t tell me anything.”

“Yep. Their album will likely be a smash this time. But I know that I can find lots of work. Music studios need engineers, especially good ones.”

Rebecca smiled, as she lightly bounced up and down on the couch.

“That’s why I think that this move may be a good one. I just need to make a couple of calls to see if some studios down in Sydney or Melbourne would want to have me.”

Rebecca smiled, giving her husband a big hug. Travis stood up and walked back to the refrigerator.

“I think, Becks, that 1981 is going to be a great year for us. Let’s get ready for a new adventure down under, eh?”