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Friday Fictioneers – These Dreams

(Author’s note: Hi. You’ve probably noticed that I haven’t written for about a month now. Work got crazy, and my mind got really really tired. I needed to rest after all the work that I had to do. As such, my mind has become a bit stale. So, here’s an offering that may not necessarily be the best, but it’ll be good enough for jazz.)

© Roger Bultot

These Dreams

by Miles H. Rost

4 weeks. Mindless data entry. Sleep…

But I need to write.

Walking walking walking. Oh, let’s see about this door…

*slam*

Oh. I guess not that idea. Let’s try this one.

*clink. clink clink clink clink*

You gotta be kidding me. Can I not even find an idea to work with. Let’s try this next one.

*open*

“I AM YOUR BED. I ORDER YOU TO SLEEP IN ME! UGHLALALAL—“

*slam*

Aw hell naw. Okay, last one. Let’s see…

*click*

“Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding…”

I don’t know what this is…but I think I have my next story!

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Friday Fictioneers – Sandy

(Author’s note: I have been gone the last couple weeks, due to many different issues coming up and rearing their head, such as a digestive issue. I intend on doing more. It’s just taking a little longer to get things moving. Here’s today’s Fictioneers!)

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©Ted Strutz

Sandy

by Miles H. Rost

Jim stood outside the bus depot, cigarette in hand, cold air on his face. A rush of exhaust passed by him as a Greyhound pulled up.

“Sorry, I’m late, Jim,” His partner, Warren, huffed as he ran up the sidewalk towards him.

“This better work, Warren. I quit a job buying lingerie for this.”

“It will. They want to take our work and turn it into a musical.”

Jim crushed his cigarette.

“New York, here we come, eh?”

“Well, let’s see what they say. I just hope they don’t turn Sandy into something strange.”

“Like an Australian?”

Chuckling, they boarded.

olivia-newton-john-grease-sandy

Courtesy of The Disney Odessey

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Friday Fictioneers – I’m Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down

(Author’s note: Starting the week of May 28th, I will be posting later. I have a job that requires me to be at work at 6AM PDT, which means that Fictioneers is posted in the middle of my sleep-time. Yes, this means I got a job. It’s a good one. And I hope to be able to do a lot more with it. Here’s your fictioneers.)

dadsshoes

Prompt by Courtney Wright; Photographer – Anonymous

I’m Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down

by Miles H. Rost

One click.

Travis Lonigan knew that with one click, one hit of the return key, he could cost someone their job. Someone would go to jail, someone well respected but with a lot of secrets. Someone who stole from his friend.

He would likely be found. He knew that people were looking for him, trying everything to prevent this from happening.

Switching from the ‘enter’ key to the delete key, Travis knew that one of two buttons would seal his fate. He could be hunted down, potentially destroyed, utterly humiliated.

He could end up dead.

Closing his eyes….

*click*

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Friday Fictioneers – The Red Plains

(Author’s note: I am writing this in a hunt and peck form due to my left wrist being cracked. I will likely be in a splint for 4 weeks, then in a wrist brace for 4 more…depending. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers.)

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©J. Hardy Carroll

The Red Plains

by Miles H. Rost

Rubble.

That is what was left of the old brownstone building in downtown Lincoln, Nebraska.

Andy Patridge looked at the charred papers strewn about the grounds. His 40 years of law and life, gone in 20 minutes.

“Any idea of who caused this?”

The fire chief looked at Andy and furrowed his caterpillar brows.

“You keep thinking someone did this. We have no clue how this was done.”

“Actually,” the arson examiner popped up behind them, “I can conclude that it was likely his ex-wife that did it.”

“How’d you know that?” The chief balked.

“Spraypainted message. Says, “Die, you arseluch.”

“Great…”

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Friday Fictioneers – Situation

(Author’s note: None. Enjoy the Fictioneers!)

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© Jellico’s Stationhouse

by Miles H. Rost

Ron Bellio wheeled up alongside his pals, his small wire bike with big monster wheels in the back overshadowing the others.

“Hey, Ronny! Where’d you get the mutant?”
“Oh, the bike? Yo mamma!”
“What you say?!”

The sound of teasing filled the air, along with laughter and music as they rode down the street.

“Did you hear about Ali?”
“What about her?”
“She hit number one on the dance charts!”
“Auntie Ali?! Fat Ali?!”

Ron looked at his friends, smirking that his friends were talking about his cousin.

“You shouldn’t call her fat. She’s got more muscle than all you now.”

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Alison Moyet, of the duo “Yazoo” (aka Yaz)

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Friday Fictioneers – Steppin’ Out

(Author’s Note: Thought things were going to be late due to the election and the results…but I was able to get them looked at, and was able to spend time. I think I should have time for more long-fiction coming up. We’ll see. Anyhow, here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

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© Sandra Crook

Steppin’ Out

by Miles H. Rost

“How about this hat? Don’t I look good in it?”

“Honey, you look like one of the locals in that. It’s like you’re wearing the board from Family Feud on your head.”

“Oh, poo. You’re no fun.”

Christine Bakshri smiled, as she turned around and looked at the other hats in the market of Tashkent. Her beau, Henry, looked bored but was secretly enjoying himself.

“Henry, do you think we’ll ever return home?”

“We stepped out of the country for a year. Do we really want to step back in?”

Christine thoughtfully looked around.

“Naaaaaaah!”

They gave a wave, and continued walking down the market street.

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Friday Fictioneers – Somebody Put Something In My Drink

(Author’s note: No major announcements. Still working on short story. Taking longer than I hoped. But that’s cool. Enjoy an interesting story here.)

 

PHOTO PROMPT- ©Ted Strutz

Somebody Put Something In My Drink

by Miles H. Rost

Bud Murray was the oblivious barfly.

He was always at the end of Charlie’s Bar, drinking his riches away. And no one paid mind to him. It was the 1960s, no one really cared.

A dull-colored liquid in a shotglass perched itself in front of his lips. He sniffed. Smelled normal. He took it and knocked it back.

Within a minute, his shoulder moved. Then his arm. He started staggering around the bar, out of his mind.

That was the last thing he remembered before he woke up, tied down to a bed.

He looked at a nurse, and yelled the only word on his mind.

“COINTELPRO!”

Look it up!

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Friday Fictioneers – Everything You Want

(Author’s note: On With the show! ^_^)

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Everything You Want

by Miles H. Rost

He sat alone, his back to a bush, overhearing some of the young folk.

“I’m really pumped up by his ideas!”
“Yeah, he’s got this new way of doing things that’s really awesome.”
“I like our current one, but this new guy’s got fire.”

The young man looked out at the world, listening as they gushed. As they walked away, he sighed and looked out at the rest of the world.

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked and saw a mousy brunette staring at him through stylish glasses.

“I still think you’re the best pastor, Pastor Bob.”

He smiled, as she walked away.

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Friday Fictioneers – Just Breathe

(Author’s note: A great response to last week’s story. Glad to hear things. Slowly getting back to normal after a major week of strangeness. Hope to have actual other fiction up and running. Now, last time I did this photo, it ended up with a father changing a diaper while wearing protective gear. What will come up this time?)

© Douglas M. MacIlroy

Just Breathe

by Miles H. Rost

“You don’t have to worry about anything. Just let yourself go and breathe,” Helen Young said, as her husband approached hyperventilation.
“There’s a reason I don’t like scubadiving.”
“I know, honey. But just breathe, and it’ll be like normal.”

The Youngs plunged into the water, Helen leading the way to a group of rocks about 125 feet down. She pointed down at them, and her husband went down to look at them.

From her side, she pulled out a knife and proceeded to cut his oxygen tube. Water rushed into his lungs, he gagged as he tried to surface for air.

“Freedom…” she thought.

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Friday Fictioneers – Dancing On A High Wire

(Author’s note: Dealing with health issues. Should be back up to snuff soon.)

 

© Madison Woods

Dancing On A High Wire

by Miles H. Rost

“This is the craziest idea you ever had,” Martin whispered.

“Well, you wanna get out of this place or what?”

Thor Torgerson didn’t wait for an answer, as he quietly opened the tower door. Deftly, he subdued the two guards and looked down at his pathway.

A long, thin, razor wire fence.

“You want me to walk on that?!” Martin blanched.

“You want your freedom? Wanna get back at the university folk who put you in prison?”

Martin looked at Thor, his desire for revenge getting the better.

“Hell yes.”

“Then let’s get walking.”

Martin grabbed the railing, lowered himself onto the concertina wire…