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Friday Fictioneers – Sundown

(Author’s note – Nothing to report. Just keepin’ on.)

© Jennifer Prendergast

Sundown
by Miles H. Rost

Gordy sat in the shadow of the sunset, the orange glow flooding through his writing room window. At the kitchen table, he tapped his pen against his nose.

He was at home, working on his album. His gal was out on the town, wanting to spend time in the city. His mind wandered to where she would be… or even who she was with.

Jealousy on his mind, he put the pen to paper, describing his woman and describing what he’d do to any interloper.

“Sundown, you better take care if I find you’ve been creepin’ round my back stair.”

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Friday Fictioneers – I Write The Songs

(Author’s note: Things have been busy. so I haven’t been writing as much. Here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

© Ted Strutz

I Write The Songs

by Miles H. Rost



Darren closed his notebook, folding his hands across the front.

He took the Alaskan cruise in order to get away from the usual distractions, and allow him a chance to clear his mind.

The cool sea air wisped around him, bathing him in the ideas that he tried for years to put on paper. From the moment he walked onto the cruise ship, he started seeing different inspirations that would give him new fodder for music.

He thought about his friends back in Seattle, wondering if they’d come out of their trances with the new “Tik Tok Friendly” music.

He flipped open the book, and put pen to paper again.

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Friday Fictioneers – Touchdown

(Author’s note: Starting next week, I’ll be back to doing weekly posts for fictioneers. PT is lowered to once a week. Here’s today’s fictioneers to celebrate!)

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© Ronda Del Bacco

Touchdown

by Miles H. Rost

“10 seconds left, 5 points down. It’s up to Sahle, his road to recovery, and his team to make it.

“Y’know, Max, it’s amazing how he came back from a catastrophic leg injury in week one to be able to play tonight. The question is: Is he well enough?”

“We’ll know in a moment as they come out of the huddle. Sahle sounds off, Hillman in motion, and here’s the snap. Fakes a handoff, but can’t find his fielder. It does not look good…wait, he’s taking off. Wholly holes, he found one and he’s smokin’.

20…10…5… Touchdown, Sahle! That’s some leg work!”

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Friday Fictioneers – The Eye Of The Tiger

(Author’s note: I’ve had to cut this writing down to every other week due to some new stuff I’m involved in. Plus, since I start work really early, I get very tired during the week. So I am going to try and do more, do better on getting things onto this blog. It just make take a little while longer. Otherwise, here’s today’s Fictioneers!)

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© Dale Rogerson

Eye Of The Tiger

by Miles H. Rost

Washington D.C. saw it’s fair share of weird people. Congressfolk, G-men, you name it, they saw it.

A sitting congressman, riding on a tiger’s back. That was unusual.

Nebraska Representative Bob Langston was known for doing outrageous things to make a point. From dumping a half-ton of Alka-Seltzer tablets into Dupont Circle Fountain, to ziplining onto the Capitol steps, always with a reason for it.

He stopped at the foot of the steps and was immediately swarmed by reporters, asking why ride a tiger to the capitol.

“It’s appropriate work transportation for a guy who eats congresspeople for lunch.”

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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 – Greased Lightning

(Author’s note: I remember this prompt! I did this a long time ago! But, the good thing is…we always can have something different! Here ya go!)

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© Al Forbes

Greased Lightning

by Miles H. Rost

Dave and Michelle walked out of the recent reshowing of Grease!, celebrating it’s 35th year.

“Seriously, Michelle, cars aren’t made like that anymore,” Dave said, putting on his jacket.
“Neither are the people.”
“Yeah, but what if we could have fun like that here in this modern world?”

Michelle brushed her frizzy black hair from her eyes.

“It would be…hissstorical…”

Dave shot her a look, and grinned.

“Undeniable…”
“Utterly illogical…”

They looked at each other.

“Why it could be our next PROM THEME!”

Dave put his arm around Michelle, walking back toward his 1970 Dodge Charger.

“Time to tell the prom committee…”

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Friday Fictioneers – One Day To Fly

(Author’s Note: I’d like to give a shout out to Jason E. Gillikin, a good friend of mine who I have had the pleasure of contacting and being in contact with for many years. We both grew in our writing, and he is the Editor in Chief of Caffeinated Press, an anthology publisher based out of Grand Rapids, Michigan. He has helped me, in many ways, to get back to writing the way it should be. If you get a chance, you should visit his website: http://www.jegillikin.org/ )

© Piya Singh

One Day To Fly

by Miles H. Rost

Leo shot up in his bed.

Never one to dally, he reached over to the table and grabbed a charcoal pencil and his paper, and started to sketch.

A smooth nose, sleek lines jutting back from the rounded nose. A bump on the top towards the front, and a long tubular body. Each part of the drawing called upon the memory of his dream, the horror and awe of what he imagined.

Two ellipses, flattened, bisected the main body, rounding on either side, but thin enough to look like the blade of a knife.

The vision of da Vinci was masterful.

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Friday Fictioneers – What’d I Say?

(Author’s note: I hope to be up for new things soon. I got smacked around by a cold last weekend. I hope to do a lot more soon. Anyhow, here’s today’s work!)

© Jan W. Fields

What’d I Say

by Miles H. Rost

Sex.

It was all Marcus knew. It was all that oozed out of his pores. And as he sat at the piano, his back against the ivories, he looked like he was about to pop.

Sex.

It was also a big problem. He held the letter in his hand, frowning at it. 13 names, 13 women, 13 calls for more money than he could ever make in a year.

He turned around and looked at the keys. He needed to find an outlet for all the sex in his system.

He found it in C minor…