memory

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Friday Fictioneers – Back On The Streets

© Rowena Curtin

Back On The Streets
by Miles Rost

8 years since he returned to the old haunts.

The smells, or lack thereof, made the area seem surreal. The scent of freshly baked bread from the factory was the prime smell missing.
The scent of booze and lichens no longer permeated the streets or the sidewalks.

The absence of smell made the area seem antiseptic. Half the buildings that enclosed the area were gone, removed to make new, giant buildings at twice the price.

He got back into his car, and drove away from the glass and concrete facades where brick used to rule. Donor money gone to waste.

Go ahead. Click the blue box. You know you want to read others.

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Friday Fictioneers – Bloom

(Author’s note: After a month of preparing, moving, and finally getting ensconced in my location, I’ve now moved out of the big city and I’m now out in a small town. It already feels good, even if it’s unusual for how I’ve been living. Anyhow, here’s some new Fictioneers with a song that I first heard in a coffee shop in Seoul back in 2016.)

© Dale Rogerson

Bloom

by Miles H. Rost

Pierre thumped forward as the brakes took hold.

He did not see the stop sign until just about late. Had he ran the sign, he would have run into Renault that turned from the side street.

It had been the case all week where he would see the bloom and become transfixed. He nearly wiped out an Uber driver, two semis, and a Polizei cruiser with his inattentiveness.

He pulled over and got out, sitting on the hood of the car and gazing lost at the blooms. He sighed, alternating between the blooms and a picture of his deceased child.

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Friday Fictioneers – When Summer Ends

(Author’s note: Life is treating me a bit better. Spring has sprung, and so has the mood to write. Here we go, starting with Today’s Fictioneers!)

©Ted Strutz

When Summer Ends

by Miles H. Rost

Looking down the hill, Itaewon Street was packed for a Sunday afternoon.

Clubbers, university students, foreign workers and teachers, all were gathering in this international section of Seoul. A cross-section of Korean society could be found here most weekends.

Nigerian farmworkers and South African university teachers mingle with Koreans, of both South and North varieties, at barbecue shacks. Americans and Canadians milled about, looking for respite from the arduous week of teaching.

This was the place to be on the weekend, to not feel so alone in a foreign culture. A place to belong.

It still is the foreigners place.

Picture courtesy of expedia.ca
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Friday Fictioneers – I Am I Said

(Writer’s notes: Most of you have seen that my output has been low lately. I’ll make it easy and simple: My work is mentally exhausting. I generally like to write, but when I get home from tough days of figuring out problems, I sometimes don’t have the capability to write. I am working on it for 2020, however, and hope to have more. I definitely have ideas. Here’s today’s fictioneers…)

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© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 I Am I Said

by Miles Rost

Eschel looked down at the foyer table. Yarmulke on one side, phone on other.

He wanted to go to synagogue tonight, but the attacks on his brethren nearby in Westchester were still playing through his mind.

His wife, Lillia, pleaded with him to call an Uber, or a taxi, to take him there. She didn’t want to see him jumped like the ones in Brooklyn last week.

He bowed for a second, before putting on the yarmulke.

“I am not afraid. I’m Jewish. There’s no crime in that.”

He wrapped his long coat around him, and went out the door.

(In memory of those who lost their lives while enjoying Hanukkah celebrations with their rabbi in New York.)

purple-inlinkz-frog

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Friday Fictioneers – On Every Street

(Author’s note: Getting there. Enjoy!)

ssi-lights-of-jerusalem

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

On Every Street

by Miles H. Rost

I turned down what used to be a busy college street, one that was full of bars, chicken shops, all the places a student in Korea would go.

I looked at how transformed it was. Gone were the karaoke houses, the pizza shops. Now it was condos, small boutiques, and a grown-up veneer.

Each place I remembered seeing Soong-Mi, gone.

Each memory of her smiling face: fading.

She went her way, I went mine. To meet one last time.

I laid a rose at her memorial, a cross on a corner. It’s her face I look for…on every street.

purple-inlinkz-frog

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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.

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

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Friday Fictioneers – Old Coal Town

(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

Abandoned buildings.

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.

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Friday Fictioneers – I Will Remember You

(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.)

© Dale Rogerson

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.
“It was.”

Valujet Flight 592 – Crashed May 11, 1996

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Friday Fictioneers – Forever Young

Took a break last week with some other stuff going on at work, so I am back (though a little late):

Copyright – The Reclining Gentleman

Forever Young
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.”

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Friday Fictioneers – Candle on the Table

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…