Friday Fictioneers – Lost In Your Eyes

(Author’s note: Everytime I post, I keep apologizing for not posting more. I really don’t have an excuse this month. I celebrated my 40th birthday, had some great things happen, and may have some more soon. I just haven’t been keeping active in writing. The Wednesday writing sessions are usually where I get my writing, then I don’t do much more for the week. I am hoping to change this, but it’s going to take some monumental work to do so.

Until then, here’s this week’s fictioneers:) 

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© Dale Rogerson

Lost In Your Eyes

by Miles H. Rost

Cherry thought she was going to fly off.

White-knuckling her boyfriend’s love handles, she tried moving with the curve of the speeding snowmachine.

Brandon just entered the snowmobile path that circled the playground, a roundabout for the machines, and roared up. He sped into each turn until reaching the beginning again, then did a quick donut, facing where he came from.

He looked behind him, staring deep into Cherry’s deep jade eyes.

Her eyes crinkled, an obvious smile on her face.

He revved up the snowmachine, and tore around the circle once more before rocketing down the snow lane.

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Friday Fictioneers – Still Losing You

(Author’s note: The month of November was not very kind, creativewise. A good portion of my brains had to be put to use at work. The rewards will be seen eventually, but it meant my online writing ended up sacrificed. Hopefully this will be a return to more weekly and sooner endeavours. Otherwise, enjoy today’s offering!)

asian-bus

© Fatima Fakier Deria

Still Losing You

by Miles H. Rost

“O-bun!”
“Kamsahabnida!”

Percy looked down at the phone, as the bus driver went back into Gwangju’s main bus terminal.

He told Caitlin that she had one week to decide: Go to Australia with him, or stay in Korea. He looked to the door of the bus gate, hoping to see her sandy hair peek out.

Deep in his heart, he knew.

He picked up his bags and boarded the bus. Seat 15, so he could see if she would board as well.

As the bus backed out, tears filled his eyes.

As it passed Gwangju’s city limits, he finally broke down.

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Friday Fictioneers – Blue Hotel

(Author’s note: I am finally back at home after a week and a half with family, and traveling on the Empire Builder. Next set of challenges are coming, and I’m working quite hard on bringing them forward. Otherwise, onto today’s fictioneers!)

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© Yarnspinnerr

Blue Hotel

by Miles H. Rost

With an audible crack, his ankle released pressure.

A long drive behind him, and another forthcoming, Harvey knew he couldn’t continue with it.

Running from one city to another, collecting the markers and contracts from Las Vegas bookies, it was not the life he promised for his wife, Celestine.

He looked up at the ceiling in his hotel room, wondering where he went wrong. Realizing the futility, he picked up the receiver.

He dialed. And waited for the beep.

“Starlight, I’m on my way. Called in my markers. I’m done.”

He walked out, slips of paper peeking from the wastebasket.

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Friday Fictioneers -Sunshine

(Author’s note: It’s 3-1 in Korea, Revolution Day. This means a day off. The only one I’ll have for the next 2 months. So today, I give my best! Enjoy! And there will be more stories during the week as I go walking and enjoying the nice weather.)

clouds-above-the-trees

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sunshine

by Miles H. Rost

“I wish I could travel,” Rockne said, staring at the bright clouds above.

“Where would you go? Not many people leave Blackford County,” his cousin, Marcus, replied.

“I dunno. I had a dream of beautiful girls in robes recently.”

“Are ya thinking of Japan?”

“Maybe. Korea sounds pretty cool, too.”

Marcus turned to his side and looked at Rockne.

“You got the hots for Yumin in science class.”

“Whaaaaaaaa?”

“She’s from Korea, and quite nice to look at.”

Rockne squinted, as the sun came out.

“She’s Korean-American. She’s from Portland.”

“Oh.”

“But yeah, she’s my ray of sunshine…”

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Friday Fictioneers – Snow On The Sahara

(Author’s Note: First week of new job doing fine. Hope to be back to mini-story writing next week. Here’s tonight’s fictioneers, with a song from my own personal deep cuts collection!)

january-snowfall-nighttime

© Sarah Potter

Snow On The Sahara

by Miles H. Rost

The expedition was lost.

First, it was Mina. Then Charles. Packi, the Tunisian warlord. Finally, Julian.

The faces of the two that remained were covered in sand, fine particles of silica that stung their eyes.

“So, where do we go from here, O great navigator?” Marisa said, changing the towel on the back of her cap.

“Well, we should be heading close to the Chott al Djerid, but…”

Marisa let out a whoop as she felt cold hit her skin. She looked up, and saw dark grey clouds and white flakes falling.

“Can you believe it? Snow! We are close!”

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Friday Fictioneers – Desert Oasis

(Author’s note: Nothing. Let’s do this!)

© Jan Marler Morrill

Desert Oasis

by Miles H. Rost

“So this is where you ended up, eh?”
“Yeah. Who would have thought that I would be the heir to the Sultanate.”

Mark O’Connor and Rahim Zaharia walked down the desert path within the walled town.

“10 years ago, we were pulling pranks on Melinda Clouse. And now you’re the Sultan of Watoomba.”
“8 years after becoming, I’m still not used to it. There are so many different things I have to do. Sometimes, I need an oasis from this desert.”
“Ever thought about coming back to the USA?”

Rahim shook his head.

“The people need me here. I am their oasis in this unforgiving desert.”

Friday Fictioneers – Ten Little Bottles

(Author’s note: G’day, everyone! First classes have come and gone for the week [or at least they will as of tomorrow night at 6:30PM]. I hope to be writing a bit more, considering I am going to need some time away from writing autobiographical pieces, biographical pieces, short fiction, and scripts. So much writing, so little time. Anyhow, here’s today’s Fictioneers.)

© G.L. MacMillan.

Ten Little Bottles

by Miles H. Rost

“Big ones! Small ones!” Beano slurred, “So many different types!”

Beano looked completely hammered. and fully animated. I was merely annoyed.

“Beano! What the heck are you talking about?!”

He turned his rotund frame my direction, and smiled one of those smiles that can irritate an IRS agent. It was the smile that I knew from my time in the Army with him.

“Mexico!”

Again, flustered was I.

“What about Mexico, Private?!”

“I found all these bottles in an empty house. And I drank them all.”

“And that’s why you’re drunk now?” I asked, blinking at him.

Beano grinned.

“Permanently drunk. Not sure how!”

And now people know why I will never visit Mexico.