wife

Friday Fictioneers – Digging Up Bones

(Author’s note: I’ve been working overtime, which is one reason why last week had no Fictioneers submission from me. But in my quest to set up healthy habits, including writing 1000 words a day, I’ve now been able to incorporate Friday Fictioneers into that habit section. I am now ready to go. So here’s today, with music from a very underappreciated artist.)

© Alicia Jamtaas

Digging Up Bones

by Miles H. Rost

“All the items you are to take are over there, the rest of the items that are with me and the house are on the other side.”

Paul folded his arms, as Lindsay started to explode.

“That’s it?! That’s all from 15 years of marriage?”
“You really didn’t bring much to it. It shows.”

Lindsay fumed, as she started rifling through the items. She breathed a sigh of relief at finding a set of photo albums.

“Well, at least you didn’t keep the albums.”
“Why would I? I may be a horrible monster, but I know what’s precious to you.”

by

Friday Fictioneers – Slender Frame

(Author’s note: Everytime I say I’m going to write more and get things done, life sets me up with other curve balls. Lately, it’s been my health. Not anything particular, just dealing with tiredness due to the type of work I do. It makes a person lazy. But, today, I am feeling particularly well to write. So here we go!)

© David Stewart

Slender Frame

by Miles H. Rost

“Babes, wake up.”

Selena sat up slowly, bleary-eyed at the soft voice of her mate.

“You haven’t been eating much lately. I figured I’d do something nice for us today, Crepes, toast, eggs, bacon for me, and vegetables for you.”

She slowly scooted back, propping herself up against the headboard. She noticed dandelions in water next to the food.

“I haven’t been eating because I couldn’t keep anything down.”
“Is this how it’s going to be?”

He looked out the nearby window, sighing.

“Only for a short time. I mean, morning sickness doesn’t last that long.”
“I really hope so.”

by

Friday Fictioneers – Lady

(Author’s note: A lot of life stuff happened over the last couple weeks. I am hoping to have a Fictioneers next week as well, and maybe even a unique story-ette. However, here’s today’s fictioneers!)

© Trish Nankivell

Lady

by Miles H. Rost

When your mind is full, sometimes you just have to sit on a toilet, and El knew this well.

His creative process took him to many places, but sometimes, the bathroom was where he needed to be.

He thought about Brenda, his beautiful wife of four years. He thought about how he looked forward to her days. The ideas flowed onto the paper, as he sat on the throne.

He poured out all that he had been feeling since he married her, even when he was gone with his band. He wanted to be home, and this was his ticket.

El and Brenda. You know him better as Lionel Richie.

Here’s the link to the seemingly tall tale of writing “Lady” on the commode.

Want to see more stories like mine? Click the frog!
by

Friday Fictioneers – (The) Mission Bell

(Author’s Note: I have a feeling I know who A. Noni Mouse is, because I’ve seen that kitchen before. If I’m wrong, then someone has the exact same layout for a kitchen than others I know… )

anonymous-kitchen-photo

©A. Noni Mouse

The Mission Bell

by Miles H. Rost

“You finished the dishes, Harlan?”

“Yeah.”

Harlan didn’t say too much. He knew that when the bell rang, he’d have to be off to work. He didn’t want to leave many words behind.

“I baked a cherry pie. Want a piece?”

“Thanks, Caiera, but no.”

Caiera knew that Harlan didn’t want to say much. She tried to make him as comfortable as he could, before that bell sounded.

With long silence between them, it was cut by the church bell’s chime.

Harlan picked up his rifle bag, and went to the door where Caiera snuck a kiss.

A sniper’s life.

purple-inlinkz-frog

by

Friday Fictioneers – …The Laboring Man

(Author’s Note: I’ve had to take some time off recently, in order to get things in order. I am moving this coming weekend, hopefully to a place where I’ll be able to save up and get my own pad. But in that time, I get to enjoy new music, which I get to add to my list. One such song is what you’re going to hear tonight. Here’s the fictioneers! [By the way, watch the video and tell me how many celebrities you see. If you get all of them, you get a custom salute from me!])

goats_and_graves_3_randy_mazie

© Randy Mazie

How Can The Laboring Man Find Time For Self Culture

by Miles H. Rost

“If you don’t find time to relax, Brian…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll end up in my grave. You’ve said that for the last 20 years, Jeana.”

Two heart attacks confirmed Jeana’s words, and Brian knew it. He just couldn’t rest until she was comfortable.

“There’s an exhibit about the history of underwear at the museum. We should go.”

“And put me in an early grave?”

“How?”

Brian looked at her flatly, Jeana finally realizing that an exhibit like that would, actually, make his heart pressure soar.

“Maybe we can watch the Rock Hall Inductions.”

“Alright,” Jeana sighed.

At least he would relax.

wpimg

by

Friday Fictioneers – Yard Sale

(Author’s note: I took last week off, as I’m in the middle of some complex situations and needed time to breathe. Things are still complex, but I’m doing alright. I’ll be better still in mid-September. Otherwise, here’s today’s fictioneers…)

nathan-sowers-dawn-millers-friend

© Nathan Sowers

Yard Sale

by Miles H. Rost

“Nope. That’s the right price on it. It’s gotta go.”

Ron looked at the farmstead, then at the old round mirror his wife used to look into every morning before going to work.

“I’ll take it.”

Taking the cash from someone he never met, Ron saw all the small pieces of his life going for small prices.

The tiffany lamp that used to be her reading light.

The old architect’s table where he drewcartoons.

At 80, he knew he needed to pare down. He just didn’t think it would be this soon after his Clarinda left Earth.

He had no clue.

wpimg

by

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

by

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

by

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

by

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