(Author’s Note: Great response from people last week. Sorry I haven’t responded, but I am working on it. Now that a job has been secured, boomba…more time to do things. Here’s today’s Fictioneers.)
© Ted Strutz
The Colour Of Love
By Miles H. Rost
“Alright, Monica. We have only a few hours before tide comes back in. Think you can paint the scenery?”
Monica looked up at her teacher with her eyes full of worry.
“Monica, you’re going to do just fine.”
She pointed to the hulking dam in the distance and exploded her hands outward.
“No, Monica. The dam won’t break. Remember, I’m here with you. If anything happens, I got you.”
She smiled, and warmly hugged his waist. She picked up her palette and dipped into some Prussian blue.
Her teacher watched as she silently painted. He knew his daughter was safe.
(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.)
© Janet Webb
by Miles H. Rost
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: Things have been quite busy this week. Bad experiences abounded, but good things are to come. Week 6 of uni has almost come to a close, and there’s another 7-8 weeks left to go. But, some big stories will be done soon, as I will need time to just sit and write and detox from writing essays. You all may be recipients of the work. Anyhow, here’s today’s Friday Fictioneers, with a bit of Australian flair involved.)
© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
by Miles H. Rost
“What’s the number on this one?” Senior Constable Alistair MacKaye asked.
“Looks like this is the fifth one,” his partner, Constable Jacklyn Brandt replied.
“And I’ve been called out here six times in the past month.”
“I don’t understand, is there something about this place?”
Alistair just gazed at his young charge.
“Jackie, do you know anything about icehouses?”
“Nah. Never heard of them back in the bush.”
“It’s a nuthouse. They like the walls. Sometimes they climb them.”
“Some of them fall off.”
“Isn’t that a travesty?”
“Eh, I don’t mind the walls. They keep us safe.”