Friday Fictioneers – To Live And Die In L.A.

(Author’s note: You probably noticed that I was absent for the last couple weeks. One reason was because I turned 39, and celebrated my birthday in Los Angeles. I got to see sights, have a great time, and do a lot of different things. The other reason was because I was in the middle of a big move, and didn’t have internet at the new place until I was on vacation. So now that I’m back, let’s have some good fictioneers work.)

dales-broken-door

© Dale Rogerson

To Live And Die In L.A. 

by Miles H. Rost

One cop car in Canyon Park was routine.

Seven meant someone wasn’t coming home to their family.

Three officers looked over and made sketches of the deceased, the massive hole that showed a liquefied heart and a half-torn stomach.

Two officers sat with a grandmother, uncontrollably sobbing, crying out “I’m sorry” in Korean. Nearby her, in another officer’s hands, a .223 rifle.

Three more officers are chatting with the medical examiner, who had taken one look at the body and motioned for the gurney.

Two officers stood by a police line, making sure reporters and their ilk didn’t get through.

Grief.

wpimg

 

Advertisements

Friday Fictioneers – Bright Eyes

(Author’s note: Happy new year, everyone! Here’s to your 2016, and here’s the last Fictioneers of the year. Hope to have more stuff in 2016 besides Friday Fictioneers.)

© Jean L. Hays

Bright Eyes

by Miles H. Rost

Eyes stared out of the window of the coffee shop.

The windows of the real estate office across the street were suddenly covered with darkening window hangings.

Half of the people in the coffee shop looked in shock, while the other half kept drinking their lattes like nothing had happened.

One person knelt in the street, looking into the eyes of their loved one. The loved one looked up, the energy in their eyes slowly melting away.

She called for help. Called for someone to call an ambulance. She looked into the eyes of the people in the coffee shop.

They all turned back to their coffee.