(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!)
© Fatima Fakier Deria
Still Losing You
by Miles H. Rost
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.
(Author’s note: I have to apologize to all my readers and others who I should be reading. The last couple weeks dealing with the run-up to winter camp left me with little energy to respond, and that’s all on me. I will be doing better, now that camp has started and I have an idea of what’s going on, to actually visit and remark on other people’s stories.
In the meantime, here’s my fictioneers story, and it’s a bit of a historical thing…)
© Sandra Crook
It’s Good To Be King
by Miles H. Rost
Steve disliked working at the school. It was not something he wanted to do.
He was waiting for news that seemed to never come. Meanwhile, he had to teach these hormonal girls how to write. It was a Sisyphean task.
When he was called to the office, he thought he was in trouble.
“It’s your wife,” the receptionist said, handing him the phone.
“Tabs, what’s going on?”
“Steve, I just got a telegram.”
“They’re going to print. They are asking if $4200 is enough.”
Steve smiled. His work about the kids he taught would be published.
Carrie would be unleashed.
(courtesy of Wikimedia)
(Courtesy of the Boston Globe)
(Author’s Note: Dealing with a sinus infection, headache related to, and all this other jazz. Forgive me if things seem a bit off.)
Waiting In My Dreams
The pathway was dark, surrounding me with the litter of my mind. Things said, things written. At the end, I saw a solitary man.
“Let me through,” I said.
“You didn’t do things right this time,” the man said
“Want to make a bet?”
I pulled out my tazer and made him ride the lightning. After a good 10 second jolt, I stepped back and waited.
He didn’t move an inch.
“I am not afraid of you,” I said defiantly.
“Probably not. But you’re still not getting through.”
“Not your time yet.”
“Then I’m sitting here until my time comes.”