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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Friday Fictioneers – Reflections (on the Lake)

(Author’s note: Still working on the story. Been dealing with some things that have come up since. A little under the weather with a throat infection. Getting better, though.)

 

PHOTO PROMPT – © Adam Ickes

Reflections (On The Lake)

by Miles H. Rost

Paul Marcus looked over the lily-pad covered lake, deep in thought.

“Where did the time go? Not long ago, I was 24 and full of spirit. Now I’m 35 and broken.”

He looked at the small bobs coming up from the lake, stirring a pad or two.

He thought back to the opportunities that were there, that he missed because he was focused on one dream. A one track mind, and that track derailed a year before.

Sitting back in a chair under the shade of a gazebo, he looked at his watch.

12:15PM

“6 more hours until I need to be home.”

Friday Fictioneers – I Won’t Hold You Back

(Author’s Note: A bit later than normal due to school conference. Here’s today’s fictioneers…and for the record, I’ve been really busy. Hence why it’s only been Fictioneers for a while now.)

 

© Emmy L. Gant

I Won’t Hold You Back

by Miles H. Rost

Marty looked at her picture. He sat on the park bench, tears slowly falling down his face.

He remembered the times they sat under that very bench. Holding, love flowing between both of them. He remembered just how much he loved her, and that he told her that it would be forever. He remembered the look on her face when she saw the ring, and when she wore the wedding dress that made her look so radiant.

He remembered those words he said, as she lay in that hospital bed.

“I won’t hold you back, sweetie.”

His last words to her. Cancer took over.

He collapsed. Openly bawling in the park.

Must I Always Remember

Must I Always Remember
by Miles Rost

Even with success, the specter of loss hung around his head like a bad cold.

Patrick Dumont was not an unhappy man, by any means. He was charming with all the folks, a man of character and integrity, and even fairly successful with his new business ventures. In all, he should be celebrating his life in great ways.

Yet, alone in his apartment, his head between his knees, he wasn’t even celebrating.

It started earlier in the day. Looking through his finance books, he knew that everything was going alright and that there were not going to be problems for the next couple months. But that nagging feeling was there, telling him “Hey, you’re finances are not as stable as they should be.”

As the day wore on, he got more and more worried. As the worries built, the memories of old days came flooding forth like a raging flood breaching an earthen dam. The more the worries piled on top, the more depressed he became. He took off from work early, and just went straight home.

As he sat in that apartment, head between knees and tears falling down his face, he remembered the many times of worry he had in the past. He heard the words of people telling him that if he didn’t plan for his future, he’d have nothing. That if he wasn’t paying attention, everything would fall around him.

He remembered his family as it came apart in pieces, like a car losing it’s parts as it drove along. His family splitting apart from divorce, his father becoming despondent after losing his job, his younger brother jumping off a high bridge to end his life after getting a failing score on his final test. He even remembered his own loss of the first business he started, a hedge clipping business.

Then there was Hannah. The girl that gave him so much passion, and so much life. He wanted to keep her in his heart always, always having that chance of being able to see her again. That is, until he heard the phone call.

“Patrick, I’m pregnant.”
“Who’s the father?”
“I’m….not sure.”

He screamed out, cried, and put himself into fits while dealing with all of these things that came forth from his head. For 4 straight hours, he was in agony. Four hours of crying, sobbing, screaming into his sweatshirt. It seemed as though he would be crying for many more hours.

Suddenly, he sat up. He dried his eyes, and looked around. He blinked a few times, looking at the fluorescent lights reflecting from the outside window into his apartment, casting glow over shadows. His eyes, even in the dark, cleared up.

“I have no need to remember this.”

His words had steel behind them. It was the sound of determination. Whatever he had just went through was done, and he finally stood up. He smiled, as he put his jacket on.

He was free to enjoy life again. He was free from his pain, his grief, and that feeling of holding onto something.

It was time…for a beer.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Homeward Bound

Apologies for no posts in the last two weeks. Vacation and depression do affect a person. Here’s the latest Fictioneers offering, albeit a couple days late due to birthday stuffs.

copyright Jean L. Hays

Homeward  Bound

by Miles H. Rost

“So this is where it all started?” Marina asked her grandpa.

“Yep. This is where the famous Route 66 got it’s start,” Grandpa responded, with pride.

“Not that, silly! This is where you started your journey, wasn’t it?” the child said, smiling like she was sharing a secret.

“Ah, child. This was the start of my journey. I lived in that brown building back there, and one day I decided to move west. I packed up a ’55 Bel-Air, picked up your grandma in Des Moines, and we made our way to Oregon.”

“Then I came along and brought you back here!”

“Actually, that was your mom…”