(Author’s Note: Things are stable down here in Melbourne, for the time being. Grades are starting to come in, so we’re waiting to see what happens. Due to my job search, I haven’t have had much time to actually do other writing besides Friday Fictioneers, but I plan to once things get further stabilized. In the meantime, here’s today’s Fictioneers piece.)
The clouds boiled up in the south. The seas were calm, but they would become wild. The man stood near the edge of the craggy sandstone cliff, watching it all unfold.
The first storm of the season was about to hit his small Australian fishing village, and people were getting things ready for the haul that would come in: Felled timber from the western hills, fish from the bay.
“Fiona, you’d be proud of the people you’ve led,” the man said, as he opened the small urn. He tossed the contents into the air, nary a tear being shed.
Hey there, everyone. Last week was a killer for me, on many fronts. I couldn’t do half of what I wanted to do. The good news is that I will have time this week to do some major writing, so keep up on it. Here’s today’s fiction:
copyright Melanie Greenwood
Hedging Your Bets
by Miles Rost
“I just put in my notice.”
Mark Jackson had a look on his face that was bliss. His cube-mate, Jesse Blaylock, wasn’t so sure.
“So, you’re going to quit without an exit plan?”
“Absolutely not. I have that plan. I’m going to take the first job that I get, and while I work at that one, I’ll work on my passion.”
Jesse’s eye went up at that.
“And what if you don’t find a job?”
“That’s the beauty of it. They’re always looking for someone. I will do any job, just as long as I don’t have to work at this place.”
“You, sir, have faith. If I don’t get to see you go today, here’s to hoping the maze don’t get ya.”