(Author’s note: I am attempting to get back into posting every week. It’s been tough, however. My job is demanding. Starting in December, however, it should be a lot easier as I switch my Wednesday fitness to Tuesday. So enjoy!)
© Dale Rogerson
So Flows The Current
by Miles H. Rost
Lee Richardson sat outside his garage, fooling around while playing his bass guitar. High bass licks, low bass grumbles, didn’t matter. He was having fun.
Lee turned around and smiled, his bros gliding their bikes up the driveway. Mike Jacobs has his keyboard with him, and Chaz carried his drum behind.
“We gotta get some practice in. You need anything?”
“Yeah, got a pastry brush?” Chaz asked, “If I’m gonna do the soft sounds, I need my brush.”
Lee handed it to him. They set up.
“How long we going for today?”
“As long as the current flows.”
Took last week off because, after the September from Hell that was unleashed upon me, I needed a bit of a break. Now, I’m back to doing what I do, and hopefully will be less tired and do more other writings. Here’s the latest Fictioneers story for y’all:
copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
by Miles Rost
“I know it doesn’t look pretty, but we’ll do fine with what we have.”
Paul and Mark looked around at the studio, and smiled.
“We don’t care. We’ve got some ideas, and the studio will be fine.”
Mark looked over at the engineers, and pursed his lips.
“Just curious, why didn’t we get the normal studio?”
The engineers smiled.
“Apparently, the last folk that were in the studio,” he chuckled as he relayed what he saw, “They smoked it up in there.”
Paul shook his head.
“Those kicks just keep getting harder to find, man.”
Mark smiled, as he looked at the sheet of music in front of him…
R.I.P. Paul Revere (1938-2014)