Friday Fictioneers – Silence and I

(Author’s note: About the time I get back into the swing of things: mandatory overtime. Here’s tonight’s read!)

ronda-del-boccio-sink

© Ronda Del Beccio

Silence And I

by Miles H. Rost

“Mom, guess what?! I got an A–”

“Shut up. I’m watching my show.”

*thump thump*

Professor: “What is your opinion on this, class?”

Student: “Well, we live in a society.–”

Professor: “Not you. Be silent. Gloria?”

Gloria: “We live in a society…”

*thump thump*

“Gina, would you like to get mar–”

“Can we just sit here and not talk?”

*thump thump*

Standing on the edge, looking into the deep 175 feet below.

“Hey! You! Get down from there!”

He heard nothing as he jumped off the bridge, head first.

No wind. No screams. No horns.

Nothing but silence, and the end.

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Friday Fictioneers – Upstairs in My House

(Author’s note: Things are getting little better, and I’m likely getting more time to do writing work. You may see an uptick in original work soon. My job isn’t as tiring as it used to be. Enjoy today’s view!)

ceayr-3

© C. E. Ayr

Upstairs In My House

by Miles H. Rost

The scenery was beautiful.

Westgate Bridge was far in the distance, but I could see it’s shadow looming on the water.

The setting sun brought forth it’s bright oranges and reds, a blanket to cover the entirety of Melbourne.

One of the hottest days of the year started moving down into a cooler and comfortable night. The lights of the CityLink, the sounds of Swanston, I could enjoy them all from my own place.

28th floor, looking down over the city. Temporarily. But it was still wonderful. It was a shame to leave it behind.

Such is the squatter’s life.

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Friday Fictioneers – As Lights Fall

(Author’s note: Job is getting more hectic, more busy. Hoping to have more time now to do things. Didn’t get it last week. Here’s this week’s work:)

on-route-66-jean-l-hays

© Jean L. Hays

Reach

by Miles H. Rost

An investment of decades.

Bart slowly scanned the large stretch of land in Eastern Oregon that he called home. The sun was approaching the horizon, bathing him in an eerie orange.

He bought the land with a major investment he made just after World War II. He did well with the cattle, until he sold them a month before. The sale put into a safe trust for his grandchildren, provided they took up a marketable trade.

He put his back to the rock, and watched the sun go down.

As his final breath left him, it was his last call.

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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 – The Kingdom

(Author’s note: It’s been a week. But I went through the last 3 months of comments, and was able to respond. Because I actually care about people’s thoughts. And now that some things have come together on this job, I’m looking forward to the future. In celebration, here’s today’s Fictioneers!)

jhc-clock

© J Hardy Carroll

The Kingdom

by Miles H. Rost

The people at school knew nothing about Mindy Royal.

The bookish 18-year old was friendly, but no one really took the time to get to know her. Most regarded her as a plain Jane.

Steve Jacobs did not. He was someone who always gave her a smile, helped her when books fell on her, and even gave her lunch money.

The day after her 18th birthday, she walked into her high school, dressed up like a princess. She met Steve, and immediately proposed to him.

She was Princess Melinda, and she needed someone special to be her Duke of Leeds.

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Friday Fictioneers – Yard Sale

(Author’s note: I took last week off, as I’m in the middle of some complex situations and needed time to breathe. Things are still complex, but I’m doing alright. I’ll be better still in mid-September. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers…)

nathan-sowers-dawn-millers-friend

© Nathan Sowers

Yard Sale

by Miles H. Rost

“Nope. That’s the right price on it. It’s gotta go.”

Ron looked at the farmstead, then at the old round mirror his wife used to look into every morning before going to work.

“I’ll take it.”

Taking the cash from someone he never met, Ron saw all the small pieces of his life going for small prices.

The tiffany lamp that used to be her reading light.

The old architect’s table where he drewcartoons.

At 80, he knew he needed to pare down. He just didn’t think it would be this soon after his Clarinda left Earth.

He had no clue.

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Friday Fictioneers – Inherit The Stars

(No author’s note this time, enjoy the show!)

camera-ted-strutz

© Ted Strutz

Inherit The Stars

 

by Miles H. Rost

“Brent, whatever are you doing out here?”

Brent looked up from his telescopic camera and smiled.

“They say that Jupiter is going to be closest tonight. I want to get a picture of her.”

His grandpa shuffled over to the camera, and peered through the viewfinder.

“Your uncle Stephen would be proud of you, you know.”
“Because of my interest in the planets?”
“Because you’re taking the time to explore more than just what’s around you.”

Brent looked up solemnly.

“There has to be more. I mean, how could all of this be created if there wasn’t a bigger purpose?”

Stephen Hawking (“Uncle Steve”) – Courtesy of The Telegraph