Friday Fictioneers – Ride Across The River

(Author’s note: End of February, I go home to America. Until then, I post! Here is this week’s fictioneers.)

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© Roger Bultot

Ride Across The River 

 

by Miles H. Rost

Klaus tripped over a broken tree branch.

He hated his commander for staying at this place. It wasn’t safe, and wasn’t protected.

It was Christmas, and he was not wanting to be in this foreign land. He wanted to be home. Any home. He even spoke enough English to get by.

He had made it about two miles when he ran into a vast line of men. One commanding man looked down at him from his horse.

Klaus raised his hands.

“I know English. I surrender. They are not on guard.”

The horseman looked back, and smiled.

“Victory or Death!”

washingtoncrossing

Courtesy of ushistory.com; 1851 picture credit to Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze

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Friday Fictioneers – Brave New World

(Author’s note: Helping friends out with their issues here in Korea. Seems to me like I was sent back to Korea for precisely this moment. Future writings are coming, that are non-fictioneers. Here we go with today’s, though!)

© Rich Vosa

Brave New World

by Miles H. Rost

“It’s been 7 years since I’ve been home. I’m worried about what I’m going to find.”

He looked at his friend, Cord, as he was ready to board his plane at Gate A19.

“You’ve been through hell in Vietnam. You’ve taken some time and got recharged. It’s time for you to go home and see people.”

He looked at Cord sadly.

“But what if they’re like all the others who’ve been spitting on our comrades, pouring urine over them, and all that.”

“I think you’ll find that most of those stories are in the bigger cities. You’re going to Muncie, Indiana. Not happening.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, as he handed his ticket to the gate clerk.

 

Check List

by Miles Rost

“Okay men, Roll Call.”

“Childers.”

“Here.”

“Mao.”

“Yo.”

“Kurabati.”

“Here!”

“Jacobsen.”

“Here!”

“Harlan.”

“Whaddya want?”

“Cabrini.”

“Yeah?”

“Stewart.”

“Too early!”

The man checked the list once more, checked everything off.

“Alright. Here’s what we got. You’ve got your weapons in front of you. You have two hours to finish your assignment, as I briefed you yesterday. You know what to do, and you know how it must be done. If this fails and the commander is not happy, I will make sure each and every one of you is put on KP for the rest of your natural lives in this organization. Any questions? Stewart!”

Stewart lowered his hand.

“Can we see the target’s picture one more time?”

The captain looked at them, and looked back at the covered picture on the wall. He walked over and uncovered it.

Upon the revelation of the picture, there was a collective squeak from each of the men, and then laughter.

There was a picture of Hello Kitty holding onto a Rifle.

The captain furrowed his brow and proceeded to bark at his charges.

“The commander’s daughter is NOT going to be happy with you unless you give her what she wants. And she wants a birthday cake, with a picture of Hello Kitty holding a damn rifle on it! So you’re going to give it to her, or by God and the stars he holds, you will all be wishing it WAS Hello Kitty tearing you a new asshole!”

All of the men stood serious, hands behind their backs, whisks and spatulas at the ready.

“Get cookin’! That’s an order!”

The captain proceeded out of the room.

All the guys looked at each other, looked down at the spatulas…and proceeded to double over with laughter. Until the voice of the captain bellowed from down the hallway.

“I HEARD THAT!”