Friday Fictioneers – Treasure Chest

(Author’s note: Things are getting crazy! Here’s some Fictioneers!)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Treasure Chest

by Miles H. Rost

A summer day, and the sound of kids playing filled the air.

This day, it was an adventure. The youngest kid impersonating Sherlock Holmes, the middle kid pushing the swing while the oldest imagined she was a pilot.

After the “flight” was over, they all ran around the quarter acre of property, looking for the treasure that their mother hid earlier that day.

They peered in a hole in the tree. Nothing.

They searched the camper. Nothing.

Finally, the middle kid spotted the box under a rhubarb plant.

They opened the box, and found… condiments.

“KIDS! DINNERTIME! BURGERS!”

“YAY! BURGERS!”

Friday Fictioneers – Behind The Waterfall

© Anne Higa

Behind The Waterfall

by Miles H. Rost

The hike from the campsite to the water source was long.

The reward was clear, crisp, running water.

Sally looked around and smiled. She spied a little path going behind the waterfall. A curious teenager, she had to investigate it.

Reaching the back of the waterfall, she looked out at the beautiful blue-tinted waters pouring over the lip of the cave. The sight of the western sun shining through the water gave her heart peace.

Taking out a small bag, she untwisted the tie, and poured the contents out.

“Be at rest, Dad. You always said you loved the water.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Korea Remembered (Madrigl)

(Author’s note: A lot of feels with the picture for this Fictioneers. A lot of them. Enjoy!)

Korea Remembered (Madrigl)

by Miles H. Rost

Nambu Market in Jeonju was one of a few placed I loved to go.

The shops, the smells of the food, the atmosphere; All of it was intoxicating.

The blood sausage restaurant, serving up sundae, was lined up down the lane. I passed them all by. No twenty minute wait for me.

The kalguksu shop I went to had soft asia-jazz playing, and was a great place for someone like me.

The server put some water on my table, and asked me for my order.

“Mandu Kalguksu wa cola hanpyeong gajuseyo.” *

She smiled as she went to make my order.

*- “Knife-cut noodle soup with dumplings, and 1 glass of cola, please.”

Friday Fictioneers – Closing Time

(Author’s note: No note, just write!)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Closing Time

by Miles H. Rost

“We’re locking up.”

The waitress teared up as we put on our jackets. I grabbed the last piece of biscuit on my way to the register.

“$24.50.”

I looked around at the reminiscent decor, all the things I loved that were on shelves just below the ceiling. I pulled a $100 out of my wallet, and gave it up.

“Are you sure…”
“Honey, this place gave me memories. Whatever isn’t for the bill, split it among you three.”

She finished ringing us up, smiling through it.

We walked out the door and saw her turn the sign to closed.

Forever.

Nothing more.

It’s a common thing nowadays, the last person out tips the best. With the virus, you never know when you’ll have to go home.

Friday Fictioneers – Dance Hall Days (Short Story)

(Author’s note: Took last week off due to the fires in Oregon. Back today. Enjoy!”)

© Roger Bultot

Dance Hall Days

by Miles H. Rost

Stickball.

A staple of New York youth. A way for the kids of the neighborhood to have fun and forge long lasting friendships.

When us kids needed to hash out things, we didn’t take to our fists. We took to the sticks. Whoever ended up scoring the most, or when our moms called us in after the sun went down, they would carry the day.

Once we moved to the west coast, there was no more stickball. You moved up to the sandlots. The skills learned translated well for the batting, but the running killed us.

We were still friends.

Friday Fictioneers – Reunion

(Author’s note: Well, I did it. I got the full-time job. This means a little more security, and means a little more stability for my writing schedule. I am hoping to be back up to speed fully. Also, my health has taken a turn for the better, so I am celebrating. Enjoy today’s fictioneers.)

barns-1-dawn-miller

© Dawn Miller

Reunion

by Miles H. Rost

20 years passed since I left high school. I did things many of my classmates didn’t, in that time.

I left Minnesota, I left the United States, I left the Western Hemisphere, and the Northern too.

The funny thing is: I missed some of my classmates.

Tarik, the funny man of my choir days, keeps Minnesota’s air pure.

Dave’s doing great farm work in the Dakotas. Margot is keeping America’s workers safe. Adrienne is helping people achieve their best, and Chad’s keeping the mail moving.

Some of our paths chosen, some chosen for us. But for one weekend, we are together.

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Oh hai thar! It’s a-me! And the school that I used to go to.

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Friday Fictioneers – Josephine

(Author’s statement: My apologies. Last week’s miss of the Friday Fictioneers was due to having back to back medical treatments and getting home VERY late. So I will try to make up for it this week. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers:)

on-the-beach-with-sandra

© Sandra Crook

Josephine

by Miles H. Rost

High tide. Sitting on the beach.

The water comes around, bathing the lower half of my body.

Josephine is next to me.

I look down and smile. She loves the ocean, and everything that comes with it. Always did.

She grew up by the ocean, even took jobs on the fishing boats in her teens. Boys called her “Tuna”.

She set the record for largest ahi tuna caught in the province. She was a senior in high school then.

I stand, and pick Josephine up. I open the top, and pour her out.

Josephine, I send you all my love.

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Friday Fictioneers – Breaking Hearts

(Author’s note: Thank you, everyone, for your notes on last week’s fictioneers. It was a big undertaking, though people may not have known it. Anyhow, here’s this week’s fictioneers!)

old-shoes-cobwebs

© Sarah Potter

Breaking Hearts (Ain’t What It Used To Be)

by Miles H. Rost

Paul froze, chilled by what he saw.

The old pair of shoes, the ones he used to wear when stepping out, lay sprawled in the back of his closet.

The shoes reminded him of what others termed “the good old days”, the days when free blow and free sex was in high supply.

He violently flung them out the window of his brownstone, one shoe accidentally smashing into a cat perched on top of a garbage can.

Paul moved slowly to his couch, the place he spent the most time. Covered up under a blanket, he awaited his fate.

Alone.

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Friday Fictioneers – Grazin’ In The Grass

(Author’s Notes: None. Write and go, as they say. Enjoy the fictioneers this week!)

 

sp-overgrown-summer-house

© Sarah Potter

Grazin’ In The Grass

by Miles H. Rost

Summer.

Hot and humid, but also quite a beautiful time for listening to music.

I’d spend many hours sitting in the breezeway of my house, listening to the radio and recording the disc jockeys doing their thing. It was something that really inspired me.

It went everywhere I would go, but it always returned to that breezeway, close to where Dad did his accounting work and where he’d grow hot peppers. The music of my youth, the soundtrack of my life.

Until I was sent outside to play by my mom. Then I had to take my music with me.

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Friday Fictioneers – Wild Horses

(Continuing with the note that I am still in the job hunt, so work on the blog will be light until I start my new position. Enjoy today’s Fictioneers.)

horses-in-snow

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Wild Horses

by Miles H. Rost

“You should get outside to take care of the horses.”

Sally stretched as she turned over in the bed.
“Wild horses could not drag me away from you, honey.”

Eric looked into her eyes and just shook his head.
“I don’t need to be out of bed for 2 more hours. You need to get those domestic horses to the barn before the snow swallows them up.”

Sally cuddled in closer
“Domesticated horses will not drag me away from you. I nearly lost you last year in winter. I am taking all I can get now.”

Eric sighed.

“Can’t argue with that.”

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