Friday Fictioneers – Sweet Dreams

(Author’s note: Still in a splint. Things acting up, but I’ll be fine. 84 calendar days until I end my working career in Korea. As for today’s fictioneers, I originally was going to go with “Stuck In A Closet With Vanna White”, but I felt like something…more. Enjoy today’s fictioneers! )

closet

© R.W.F.

Sweet Dreams

 

by Miles H. Rost

“Desi…”

Desiree and Mike had been picked by lottery to end up in the closet. Mike was fully sober, but had been intoxicated by something much stronger than booze.

And he could not see anything.

“Mike…keep going.”

Hot and heavy it was, heightened by Air Supply on the portable radio beside them.

“Desi, my finger…it’s stuck.”

Everything stopped, except for the guitars in the song.

“That’s my bra, Mike. Take it off.”

Another moment of slight movement, and a sudden shift of things crashed down, including a clang.

“Mike?”

She felt around, finding a clock beside Mike’s head.

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Friday Fictioneers – Mama Can’t Buy You Love

(Author’s notes: Learning new stuff coming up. We’ll see what happens! Here’s today’s fictioneers!)

saltaire-sarah-ann-hall

© Sarah Ann Hall

Mama Can’t Buy You Love

by Miles H. Rost

“Why are we in a bowl shop?” Harley asked.

“Mom told me to pick something, and she’ll buy it,” Clarissa replied.

“But, sweetheart, whenever she buys you something, you’re depressed for weeks.”

“It makes me happy.”

“Clarissa, it doesn’t. Your mom doesn’t want you happy. She wants you obedient.”

“Then what do you propose, Harley?”

“Why not let me make you happy?”

“How would you make me happy? Can you buy me things?”

“No, but instead you’ll have a home to call your own. And a husband who loves you.”

“A what…?”

“Would you marry me?”

Clarissa dropped the bowl.

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Friday Fictioneers – Glad It Was You

(Author’s note: So, if you’re on Facebook, you probably found out this past week. But for those who are not, I’ve made the decision (with some help from the Lord, and a bunch of preschool children) to go back home to the USA for a time. I am not sure how long it’ll be, but it should be enough. And I’m in a good place to go and do things. I’ll keep everyone abreast, but it is likely I will be landing on American soil around March 1st.

Time for some fictioneers!)

tree-sandra-crook

© Sandra Crook

Glad It Was You

by Miles H. Rost

The tree bled from the hole the fireworks made.

That’s what Marty remembered, as it happened 5 years past. And here he was, again, looking up. He turned as he heard footsteps.

“So after all this time, you’re back here again,” Katrina said. A redhead, she didn’t look any older than before.

“Not much further from where I began, eh?”

She looked up at the tree.

“Remember?”

“We set off fireworks. One of them landed there, on that hole.”

“That hole hadn’t closed up until last week, when you arrived.”

“Guess it needed both of us.”

“I’m glad,” she said, warmly.

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Friday Fictioneers – Moon Over Georgia

(Author’s note: I’m sick. This means my brains are warped. Enjoooo~oy!)

fridays-moon-ted-strutz

© Ted Strutz

The Moon Over Georgia
by Miles H. Rost

The voice was husky, tough yet soft.

“You have a choice, Melinda.”

The werewolf turned around and stared at his daughter, a blonde-furred beauty.

“Your inheritance will be released to you early, if you marry Martin.”

He gestured to a black-furred werewolf from a tribe in Idaho.

“Or marry Gerald, whom you claim to love; and renounce everything, yet be free of the curse.”

He gestured to a plain-looking, bespectacled man of around 30.

Melinda looked, then latched onto Gerald and jumped off the yacht.

Melinda bobbed up after a moment; her fur and muzzle both gone.

She would marry Gerald, instead.


(Warning: Strong Language.) (This is the inspiration, in a way.)

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Friday Fictioneers – Hold On My Heart

(Author’s note: A couple things to add this time.

First, I’d like to welcome a new person to the link-world of Music And Fiction. My good friend Sarah Kim does a special music blog, called My Music Canvas, where she features lots of different music from all over. She’s an incredible musical soul, and someone who is very passionate about it. And being as this blog IS called “Music and Fiction”, there had to be a good connection. So everyone should go over to My Music Canvas, and drop a little note to Sarah about the music she looks at and discusses.

Next, this last year has been a bit of a difficult one in trying to write more than just fictioneers. However, I did write a very short story. It was something I just needed to get out, and even though the wording may seem unbelievable, it really doesn’t matter. It’s something that needed to be written and posted on here. So if you have the notion, go over to my longer-fiction work called “No Promises“, and enjoy.

Now, onto a very heart-laden Friday Fictioneers (which like most of my stories are not based on true events, unless I say so. ^_-)

hearty-bread

© Kelvin M. Knight

Hold On My Heart

by Miles H. Rost

He scraped the knife across the piece of bread.

The peanut butter rolled on like a blanket, melting slightly as it touched the hot dough.

Rolling like the tear that tumbled down his cheek.

Each spread brought one more tear.

He dipped the sticky knife into the jar of homemade cherry jam, pulling out the red preserves.

He sniffed.

He spread the thick and sweet concoction on the other slice.

Another tear teetered on his chin.

He wrapped the sandwich, and put it in his bag. He dried his face, and sighed.

He found that tears added something to sandwiches.

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No Promises

No Promises
a snapshot story by Miles H. Rost
——–
“I am interested in you.”

Sheila looked up from her journal and blinked. She didn’t register the words at first. They smacked her in the face, but it took many seconds for her to let the words absorb into her mind.

She looked at Martin, her good friend and former co-worker at her company. The expression on his spectacle-clad face was more serious than any time she had seen him. He was there with determination, his blue-grey eyes boring into hers with an intensity that she had never seen in the year and a half they worked with each other.

“You’re…interested in me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”

Martin put a hand through his hair, and took in a deep breath.

“I’m interested because you have made me interested. You have displayed different properties about yourself, different characteristics that appeal to me. Your faith in Christ, and your way with working with children intrigues me. The different aspects of who you are fascinates me.”

He’s trying too hard, she thought.

“I am interested in you because I know a lot, but I don’t know enough. But I also feel like there’s a chance that if we explored this, that we may find out that we’re a lot more alike in ways. And I would like to take that chance to explore this.”

Sheila looked up through her glasses, her face not betraying the fact that she was as nervous about this as Martin likely was.

“In short, you want to go out on a date so we can get to know each other more.”
“Yes. I’d like to go out on a date with you.”
“No.”

Martin sat back in his chair, and blinked. He said nothing, but blinked, as though her simple one word answer was the longest book in the world. He finally drew a breath and smiled.

“Thank you.”

It was Sheila’s turn to be shocked. Thank you? What?!

“Sheila, I’ve been nervous about asking you out for nearly a year now. I have been spending so much time in trying to find the right words to ask you out, to see if you’re interested.”
“And me saying no is something great for you?”
“Because you were willing to say something.”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t string me along for weeks.”

Sheila blinked, and slowly nodded.

“You also gave me a firm answer. This allows me to move on, and to keep you as a good friend. Something I have only a few of. No promises that need to be kept, too.”

“Well,” she replied, taking in a breath, “I guess I should say ‘you’re welcome’. But I still don’t understand why.”
“You gave me an answer. You didn’t string me along. That means a lot more to me than anything.”

Martin smiled, as he stood.

“Sheila, I’m happy. I like being friends with you. This helps by getting any romantic interests out of the way.”

Sheila looked up at him, as he was gathering his jacket and hat.

“Martin…”
“Yes?”
“I hate this.”
“Hate what?”
“That you put everything out there, and all I could say is ‘No.’.”
“It’s what I wanted and needed to hear, though. Don’t hate what is true. It is freeing.”

Martin smiled, as he put on his hat.

“I mean, I am going to hurt a little bit, because I was in hope about everything. But that you told me the truth, and I can accept it while still thinking of you as a real good friend.”

Sheila raised her eyebrows.

“That tells me you’re worth more as a friend.”

He gave her a smirk, bowed, and walked down the stairs of the cafe.

Sheila was alone, the sounds of “proto-jazz” bleating across the speakers. She sat, thinking about the simple words that she said, and how they impacted her life, as well as the life of her friend.

She looked down at her journal, and write in some new words on the bottom.

“One word can change the course of a human’s history.”

 

Friday Fictioneers – Under The Milky Way Tonight

(Author’s note: Working hard on adjusting my schedule and getting rid of distractions in order to do better work. Also working on plans to put some of these stories on video, like Youtube or Vimeo. We’ll see what happens. Here’s today’s fictioneers, with a bit of The Church involved.)

lights-of-sturgis

© Jan Wayne Fields

Under The Milky Way Tonight

by Miles H. Rost

“All these stars, all this world,” Marina sighed in wonder.

“Takes a lot of work to hang all these up in a picture.”

She looked at Jeramiha, her astronomy partner, and smiled.

“Can you believe that we’re able to gaze up there and see all these different messy stars from ancient times?”

“I can, Marina. Though I prefer to look at the stars through the lens of a photographer. Capturing a perfect moment takes a lot of ingredients.”

“Starlight, alone time, crowd distance, and a nice camping setup?”

Jeramiha looked into Marina’s eyes, and smiled.

“Under the milky way tonight.”

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