Friday Fictioneers – Angel In Disguise

(Author’s note: None. It’s Wednesday. Enjoy!)

cloister-roger-b

© Roger Bultot

Angel In Disguise

by Miles H. Rost

Tom looked over the large lawn on the British estate that he stayed at. He was about to turn around when he felt soft, silky hands wrap around his shoulders.

“Tomas, come back to me.”
“But I’m right here.”
“For good.”
“I want to, but…”
“But what?”

She spun him around and pressed herself upon him.

“I need to decide, Sandra. Nashville or you.”
“Why not both? You work for my dad’s business, then work with Nashville remote?”

She made sense. Her Spanish accent added another level to that sense.

“You’re an angel, Sandra.”
“In disguise, non?”

He enveloped her.

RIP Earl Thomas Conley (1941-2019)

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

 

Advertisements

Friday Fictioneers – Lonely Town

(Author’s note: Sorry for the lateness. That’s what happens when you become more social. More writing coming soon.)

© Marie Gail Stratford

Lonely Town

by Miles H. Rost

The Diary of Cliff Jenkins, competent company worker:

Not exactly sure why the company wanted to have their meeting here. It’s the Korean thanksgiving holiday called Chuseok, and they scheduled the meeting in Busan.

Looking out my hotel window, it’s barren. Very few people here. Haeundae Beach has no people. The streets have nothing.

I’m waiting here for my compadres. They were supposed to show up 4 hours ago. I wonder if they got lost. I know that it can be a bit of a run down from Incheon.

And now the text from the boss, “Meeting cancelled. See you tomorrow at work.”

Well. That confirms it. It’s a lonely town tonight.

Friday Fictioneers – Do What You Do

(Author’s note: There’s a lot of things going on, and my production of fiction hasn’t been very productive because of other factors. I shall have more stuff up soon, but at this time, all I am able to do is Fictioneers stuff. To which, here’s today’s offering.)

 

© C.E. Ayr

Do What You Do
by Miles H. Rost

“So, I noticed that you came in with only one shoe. What happened?”

Bridget Moroney bit her lip as the question hit her with full force. It was the one question she didn’t want to answer.

“Well, I was rushing to get here, and a man pushed me out of the way. My foot stepped onto a drain grate and the heel got stuck. I couldn’t pull it out.”

“Did you think of breaking off the heel?” the interviewer asked, her voice in disbelief.

“It wouldn’t have done much good. So I just took off my other shoe and walked the rest of the way here.”

“Where did you walk from?”

“56th and Broadway.”

The interviewer’s eyes bugged out.

“You’re hired.”

 

Friday Fictioneers – Teardrop

(Author’s note: Things are crazy, and final exams are coming. I won’t likely be coming out with anything new besides Fictioneers stuff until after early November, due to how much energy I have to spend on writing essays. So here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

 

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Teardrop

by Miles H. Rost

Travis stood in the middle of the parking lot. He looked up, as drops started to fall onto his face.

The phone in his hand started ringing, as the rain started to pour down quickly.

“Hello?”
“Travis, this is Mike from Allied Textiles. I just wanted to call you and let you know that you have a job. Come in for orientation on Tuesday morning.”
“Thank you.”

He hung up the phone and gave a small smile, then started to cry. He opened the door of his truck, climbed in, and pulled a blanket around him.

As he slept, he cried.

Friday Fictioneers – Windmills Of Your Mind

(Author’s Note: I am doing a little bit better, but won’t be on the full track for a little while. It’s the end of the term at uni! That means…so much fun. There is a possibility I may have to go dark for a week, but I am hoping that will not be the case. Here is today’s Fictioneers!)

 

Photo Prompt © Ted Strutz

Windmills of Your Mind

by Miles H. Rost

“How many applications did you put out this week?” Miguel asked, as he chewed on an apple.
“30 as of Thursday, with 15 more coming up,” Carmen replied.
“And how many do you expect callbacks on?”
“Probably about 5, at best.”
“Why do you do it, Carm?”

Carmen sat back, leaning herself against his leg.

“I think it’s because I want to be useful.”
“But you don’t necessarily have to work to be useful.”

She gave Miguel’s knee a kiss.
“I want to be useful for you. That’s why I do it.”

Miguel just raised his hands and smiled.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Manic Monday

Currently writing this on the road…in Suwon, South Korea (the capital of Gyeonggi Province). Enjoy what my mind throws up!

 

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Manic Monday

by Miles Rost

I never thought I knew of a place called hell. That is, until I found myself in a delivery job in Beverly Hills.

“You need to drop the first set of packages in the back alley behind the consignment store next to the Victoria’s Secret on Rodeo Drive, but not the Victoria’s Secret expansion across the alley,” my boss told me.

It was like he was speaking Korean to me. I looked at him sideways.

“What’s the name of the consignment store?” I asked.

“How am I supposed to know? I don’t do deliveries!”

So I went with my gut and looked for the Victoria’s Secret store. There were 5 of them within 2 blocks of Rodeo Drive. So I put them in the back alley, on a building that said “Rags to Riches”, next to the Victoria’s Secret.

I was fired the next day for incompetence. When my boss couldn’t even tell me the right place.

I think I’m going to go to the beach and punch a mime.

Friday Fictioneers: Memories

By Miles Rost

copyright-managua-gunn

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.