(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:)
© Sandra Crook
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.
(Author’s note: Nothing. I have stuff going on that’s taking up a lot of time. Here’s our stuff.)
© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Old Coal Town
by Miles H. Rost
The smells of dust, must, and nature filled my nose as I looked at the back of the old broken building. It was a great smell, and something I love coming back to.
Coming back to this place, getting away from the big city, it’s incredible.
And being able to restore something old is a great chance to help the people of the town my father destroyed.
His actions killed the coal town aspect of this town, but I am hoping the fortunes I made in tech will allow this town to become great.
Time to give back what they gave me. Love.
(Author’s note: Well, exams are coming to an end. I will be able to do some new fiction in the very near future, and am preparing a few stories for publication on this blog. In the meantime, I am attempting to fundraise to start my full Master’s program here at the University of Melbourne. If anyone is interested, go ahead and visit my GoFundMe page, so you can contribute. Here’s today’s offering for Friday Fictioneers.)
I Will Remember You
by Miles H. Rost
Pete Meyer shut down the fan boat, as he traveled through the Everglades.
“Hey, Berkeley! Look over here.”
Berkeley Bryant turned his head to the swampland and stared.
“That’s a pipe. And it’s not an irrigation one.”
They slowly moved the boat over to the pipe, and attempted to pull it up. Taking 20 minutes to do so, they finally wrenched it out of the slop.
“What type of pipe?”
Berkeley looked down, blinked, and looked out amongst the swamp.
“Fuel intake for a DC-9.”
“DC-9? Wasn’t that…”
Berkeley took off his hat, and put it on his heart.
Valujet Flight 592 – Crashed May 11, 1996
Took a break last week with some other stuff going on at work, so I am back (though a little late):
by Miles Rost
“Dad, was this place always filled with water?”
“No, son. This area used to be a major quarry for the local marble company.”
“Why didn’t they continue with marble here?”
“The company went out of business, son.”
“I never knew about this place, what it was.”
“That’s because it changes all the time. Everything changes after time, even you.”
“But Dad, do you think I’ll change so much to be unrecognizable?”
“You won’t be unrecognizable. People will still remember what you were, and what you are. In people’s minds, you’ll be forever young.”
A little note saying sorry for no posts this week. Due to some rather weird health issues, as well as lot of stress, I was in a bad place for a bit. Now that I’m better, however, I am ready to post and have fun with things. Make sure to keep a watch on this site, as you will have more stories coming soon. Now, on with the show!
copyright Renee Heath
Candle On The Table
She was entranced by the music. Elton John was always her favorite.
Hearing him sing “Candle In The Wind” was one of the highlights of her day when she sat down to relax after work. In fact, she played the song so much that she would sing it even at work.
This night, she was so entranced by the song that she didn’t notice what was happening on top of the table on the far wall.
The candle she lit had melted down, and the burning wick slowly fell onto the table. Catching a piece of paper on fire.
She didn’t notice as the house started on fire…