(Author’s Note: Nothing major to report. Just working like I normally do. Enjoy today’s fictioneers, because I think it’s a good one.)
PHOTO PROMPT -© Vijaya Sundaram
by Miles H. Rost
“It’s been nearly 15 years, Rachel.”
“Since I’ve been on a date like this.”
“The last time you were on a rooftop, watching fireworks and drinking mojitos?”
Charles looked at Rachel with a wan smile.
Rachel’s eyes crinkled, looking deep into his face.
They both scooted closer to each other, her head resting on his shoulder.
“The difference this time is that I’m not in the middle of a war zone.”
Rachel sighed, her displeasure obvious.
“Does it bother you?”
“Nah. I just miss Kandahar. But, I know I’m safe with my big Marine.”
He smiled, watching the fireworks go off.
(Author’s notes: Sorry for not being as productive lately. It’s been a really tough time here in the land down under, and because of all that’s going on, my attention has been on getting myself stable, then getting myself out of here. I want to thank each and every one of you for reading my stories the last two weeks and giving me great feedback. You all make me so proud. Here is today’s fictioneers story.)
I’m Not Home
by Miles H. Rost
Heidi Markham glared at her mother.
“We’ve been coming to Dad’s grave for 14 years. I’m about to graduate. You never told me what happened to him.”
“I guess it is that time,” her mother sighed, sitting down next to the flat gravestone, “Your dad came back from the Gulf, and he wasn’t right. But he always told me he was, so I didn’t say much about it.”
Heidi slowly knelt down by her Mom.
“He never told anyone. He never told me!”
She started to sob. Heidi hugged her, tears flowing down her face.
“He was too stubborn to ask for help, and he took his life. He never truly made it home.”