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