(Author’s note: Life is doing pretty well. Interviews happening, help to others being given, and with the exception of being clipped by a hit and run driver (no personal damage to body, a little to the back of my van), things are doing well. Here’s this week’s fictioneers!)
“You don’t understand me.”
“What do you mean?”
“This. We are standing just below our target’s hideout, and we’re arguing.”
Josh’s face wore blank.
“I just want to know, before we go in, that we’re on the same page.”
“Of course we’re on the same page. We’re going to axe this guy, then get out of the country.”
“Are you sure?”
Mandy just sighed.
“If you’re going to be addle-brained, I’ll do it myself and Leave you behind.”
“You wouldn’t do-”
(Author’s note: February 21st is moving day. I hope to have something already ready by then for Fictioneers. Otherwise, it’s winter camp prep and stupidity. Cannot wait until this stuff is done for good. Anyhow, here’s tonight’s fictioneers, based upon a true story.)
Donna was about to walk in, when she saw it, and screamed.
“What’s wrong…” her friend Lisa started to say, before she turned and screamed.
Hasty dialing commenced. Within 5 minutes, their friends arrived. An engineer, a computer technician, and a former Navy SEAL, all looked inside, then grinned at each other.
“It’s Spider Stomping Day!”
After much crunching and squishing, they came out covered in goo.
“Alright, the good news is, we got all the spiders,” SEAL said, “The bad news is, your walls have spider guts on them.”
(In Korea, today is known as Buddha’s Birthday. While I am not a follower of Buddha, I am thankful that the Koreans gives a national holiday off. Now if only they could give tomorrow off…but that’s asking too much. Here’s today’s fictioneers.)
Brock ran into the portico, looking around quickly.
The vacation was supposed to be a dream. Perth, Australia was to be a dream for Brock Adamson. A dual citizen of France and Canada, he was easily waved into the country on his tourist visa.
And after only a couple days, on the run due to his past. A past that had two men following him and nearly taking off one of his legs.
He ran inside the building, and looked at the receptionist.
(Author’s note: Currently working on longer fiction piece, hopefully for publication. It’s a good one, but I will still be making time for Fictioneers. Here’s today’s piece.)
The ambulances were splashing away from the parking lot of the movie theater.
Nearly a foot of water was in this section of the parking lot. An area with over a hundred guys walking around, dazed.
It was a special movie night, where pregnant moms got in for free with the purchase of a normal ticket and a concession box. What was not expected was the pain when the first mother walked out of the theater, followed by another mother.
Pretty soon, every mother’s water had broken. Over 100 mothers were taken to the hospital that night, after one of the worst rainstorms in ages.
It is still known to this day as the “Night of the Baby Flood”.
Author’s note: Hey everyone! I keep promising more stuff on the blog, but school and job hunting gets in the way. Once something comes along, there will be more posts. Otherwise, you get to enjoy Friday Fictioneers from me! My good blog-father, David Stewart, got the picture for this week, and I think it’s a beauty! Enjoy the story!
The rust on the gate was quick. Brand new last year, now tarnished.
Only one rainfall came that summer, but it was a blessing. A year’s worth of crops came in a month. It was incredible.
Then they came to the house. Claimed all sorts of charges, all sorts of lies. They said the rain didn’t want to come. I asked them how they knew the intent of the rain.
They didn’t tell me much, didn’t even allow me the chance of getting a lawyer.
(Author’s Note: Hey folks! Hope you’ve been paying attention and watching things. Even in the weirdness of school, I have had time to write. You all should be able to read my latest piece, Her Last Performance. The music will really make that one pop. Otherwise, here’s this week’s Fictioneers offering! Enjoy!)
Trying to Stop Failure
(aka “Mourning Dove”) By Miles Rost
Part 4 of Mayumi’s story
Months had passed by since the last time Mayumi Shiomi had left her job at Shine FM and went to a competitor. She waited a month, and in that time had great development in her personal life. With one exception…
The men that she had in her life sucked.
She had gone for a good two to three months without even dealing with such an issue, and she was getting better at staying away from situations, but the last guy she met just took her by surprise and she fell, very hard, in love. And got hurt in the interim.
She just broke up with another guy who wanted to use her and abuse her. After the night of their last date, she cried herself to sleep asking for things to finally just stop. That she didn’t want a relationship anymore, and that she needed some “me-time”.
She woke up the next morning, and looked at herself in the mirror. The short sandy brown hair that she used to have had grown a little longer in the months preceding. It was now down to her shoulders, but constantly tied up in a ponytail. She looked a slight bit older than her age, but she didn’t think much of it.
“Ah feel like crap right now,” she muttered to her reflection, “I have no clue what to do, how to deal with all these problems with men. Why…why do I attract that type of man?”
She changed out of her pajamas and put herself under the hot water of a long shower. She thought about where things went wrong, and where in her past was the catalyst for the change she had to deal with constantly. She turned on the waterproof radio that hung in the shower, and tuned it to her new station, Power FM 87. She knew that her show would be on in about 3 hours, and that before that was a great smooth jazz show by her newest friend, Mitzi.
“…and later this week, Larry Carlton will be in Melbourne, playing a 5 date set at Bennets Lane. Here’s a great one from him, going back a few years. This is Mourning Dove, on the Smooth Move show, here on Power FM!”
The start of the music shot into Mayumi’s heart like a needle into a vein. The soft keyboard and the beginning strains of the artist’s guitar nailed the feelings she felt at that time. She was mourning. Mourning her own problems with men, with falling a step behind again, and feeling lower than normal. She just stood under the steady and hard stream of water, as she started drifting into memories.
As the saxophone and guitars harmonized and carried her away, she looked back to the age of 10. She remembered seeing her own father, a man who she barely ever saw in later years. She saw the memory she had of him, smacking her mom around. She remembered him grabbing her mom’s arm and muscling her towards the bedroom. She remembered hearing the sounds, and running to her hiding place in the far part of the basement.
“Is this what ah’m running from?” she asked her 10 year old self, in her mind, “Is this why ah get the men I do?”
Her 10 year old memory looked back at her, saying nothing but showing her a glimpse of what may have happened to give her the perpetual bad luck with men.
She let the music carry her to another part of her mind, the water relaxing her to the point where she could do much more with her soul, mind, and body.
“Lord, ah think we know why things are the way they are,” she said, in a prayerful tone, “Ah’m dealing with the ghosts of the past, and it’s time that we work together on this. Ah wanna be free, and ah know you love me enough to want me to be free. Ah can’t do this alone, and ah have to give it up to you everyday.”
The song’s warm yet sad tones bled across her mind, the prayers she was sending infused with the music’s energy. She had never prayed as hard as she did at that moment, with hot water hitting her tired and stressed out shoulders.
“Father, help me address this problem. The image of my father, ah need to move on from it. Father, help me as ah do what I need to do.”
She kept praying, the water pouring over her hair like a waterfall. She didn’t know what effect her prayer would be, but she realized that she would eventually need to let everything go in a way.
As the song ended and a new smooth jazz song came on, she started her ritual of cleaning, getting ready for work. She felt lighter, but she didn’t know what would happen next.
Music and Fiction 