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!)

photoa

© 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.

wpimg

Advertisements

Friday Fictioneers – You Don’t Mess Around With Gym

(No Author’s Note! Enjoy things!)

j-hardy-boxing-gym

© J. Hardy Carroll

You Don’t Mess Around With Gym

by Miles H. Rost

“Hey, James! Roster’s up!”

James Barclay slapped his gloves on the canvas and sauntered over. His bruised eye looked it over.

“Bugs Jacobs again?! I put him flat 2 weeks ago.”

“He’s persistent,” Marti replied.

“He’s a flippin’ pest.”

Marti grinned, her smile as bright as her hair was. She strutted to the canvas and gave it a slap.

“Wanna practice what you did to him last time?”

James chuckled, as he wrapped his arms around her.

“When I married you, I didn’t think you’d be so bloodthirsty.”

“Well, folks know not to mess around with James.”

“Except you.”

Marti winked.

wpimg

 

Friday Fictioneers – Little Lies

(Author’s note: Such great responses from everyone for last week’s piece. I will respond this evening, I’m just dealing with a lot of crunk related to winter camp here. Hope to have more coming up after the camp is done. Otherwise, here’s a good one, being written while the moon is starting to eclipse…)

stumps

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Little Lies

by Miles H. Rost

“So, where did you get all that wood from?”

Christine looked at her husband, who just gazed down at his shiny boots.

“I went out and cut a couple at the edge of the…”

“Bull.”

Mike stared at her with that word, and started to fume.

“You didn’t cut down the trees, because there’d be sawdust on your boots.”

“I used the chainsaw.”

“It’d still be there. I told you to cut the trees down, and you went and bought wood.”

Mike sighed, as he gave her a note.

“It was given. There’s the proof that people know we’re poor.”

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – Love Used To Be A Friend Of Mine

(No Author’s Note today: Just keep doing what you’re doing.)

janet-webb-french-still-life

© Janet Webb

Love Used To Be A Friend Of Mine

by Miles H. Rost

Paul Whitaker looked at the glass candy bowl, and sighed.

A gift given to him by a wonderful woman, the candy bowl was used quite a bit when he would host family gatherings. It was his estate that the Whitaker family reunion was held every 5 years. The kids always loved the candy bowl.

Then they stopped coming around. Things got busy. Soon enough, it was just him and his wife, Helen.

That memory, the last time he saw Helen alive, etched into his mind.

The candy bowl, the reminder of love, lay shattered on the floor.

His love was gone.

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – The Red Shoes

(Author’s Note: I have one or two things that need to be addressed this weekend, but I am planning to work on some new longer works coming up soon. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers…if you dare read…)

shoes-and-books-by-magaly-guerrero

© Magaly Guerrero

“Eric, you better come home this instant!”

“But, honey! I just got a promotion, and the boys are celebrating.”

“Not tonight you aren’t. You may have been promoted, but you’re still my husband. Get back here now!”

“But honey…”

“If you don’t come home, I’m putting on the red shoes.”

Silence.

“Roxanne?”

“Yes, Eric honey?”

“You don’t have to put on the red shoes. Or the red dress tonight. I’ll be home shortly.”

*click*

Roxanne sat back, chuckled as she looked at the box with the magic butt-kicking shoes inside.

“Best five dollars I ever paid.”

wpimg

 

Friday Fictioneers – Mandolin Rain

(Author’s note: Currently dealing with work issues that crop up like rocks in a plowed field. Gotta pick them and toss them, and keep chugging away. I’ll have more stuff soon. In the meantime, enjoy this Fictioneers post. BTW, if you’re in Australia, Germany, Mexico, Japan, or New Zealand, you won’t be able to watch the video. Look for Bruce Hornsby and The Range – Mandolin Rain)

 

© Mary Shipman

Mandolin Rain

by Miles H. Rost

We walked into the house, clothes soaking wet after a downpour that we didn’t expect.

“Honey, take your clothes off before going into the living room. I don’t want the carpet to get water on it.”
“So where are you going to put them, since we don’t have our dryer yet?”
“We’ll go Korean-style.”
“Where ya going to hang them from?”
“The rafters? The chandelier?

I took a breath, and looked around.

“Well, at least it’s not going to be occupied.”
“By whom?”
“Well, I was thinking…”

My face turned beet red. She started sputtering.

So Far Away – Friday Fictioneers

Welcome back for another Friday Fictioneers set. If you haven’t already read the latest (and according to some, my best) Mayumi story so far, please go check out “We All Sleep Alone

*Author’s Note: Some have been having trouble seeing the video. If you are having trouble, go to Youtube, and look up “So Far Away” by Dire Straits. You’ll get the feelin’.

copyright Jan Wayne Fields

So Far Away

by Miles Rost

Everything was ready on the table.

Danny got home from work, and expertly prepared a beautiful crown roast of lamb, with mint sauce, lightly fried potatoes, and thin-sliced green beans. All of her favorites.

He set the table with the good plates, the excellent glasses, and everything. His crowning achievement of making dinner, a big one, was complete.

He looked out the window towards the street, the patio bereft of life. He looked out the window for a long time.

It was after about 30 minutes of looking that he realized he was eating alone for the night.

His beautiful wife, his love, would not be making it home for dinner.

Ever.