Friday Fictioneers – Only The Young

(Author’s note: I’ve been a year at my job now. I am quite pleased. Celebrate with me in the Fictioneers!)

pastedgraphic-9

©J. Hardy Carroll

Only The Young

by Miles H. Rost

Bradley turned nine today.

The party was spectacular. His friends played in the yard, ate hot dogs and burgers, devoured cake like it was nothing.

After it was all done, he sat by my side, watching his favorite evening TV show, Tour of Duty. 

“Daddy, will I ever have to go to war?”

I looked down at him, my eyes remembering the days when I asked that question.

“Not unless you want to.”
“Are you sure?”
“They don’t force you to go anymore. Not like when I was 18.”

He curled up next to me, as we silently finished the show.

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

 

Advertisements

Friday Fictioneers – My Old Yellow Car

(Author’s note: And here we are, back again for another Friday Fictioneers. I hope to have some new non-micro-fiction material up soon. Jobs that wear out your mind, however, don’t seem to work very well with keeping up a writing schedule. No longer! I have a secret weapon that will help. So, enjoy today’s missive!)

teds-car-in-the-woods

© Ted Strutz

My Old Yellow Car

by Miles H. Rost

The garage door opened and gasps went up to the heavens.

“What did you do, Dad?”
“I bought an old, rusted and busted ’68 Charger R/T. I figured you and I could work on it.”

The 10-year old looked up, crinkling his nose.

“Couldn’t we have done this with a computer?”
“Do you want to drive when you’re 16?”
“Yeah…”
“This car is yours once it’s fully built.”

His son’s eyes lit up. Then they fell.

“But we don’t have money for parts.”

Dad smiled, and looked around the garage.

“$10 a week. Save up enough, I’ll buy an extra part for free.”

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – Skating

(Author’s note: Doing something dangerous. Took off my splint and am writing this properly. Putting splint back on after it’s done, but so far…no problems. Anyhow, here’s today’s fictioneers…just for all y’all.)

russells-bw

© The Court Jester of Friday Fictioneers, Russell Gayer

Skating

by Miles H. Rost

Running from the frozen lake, Brian Gerlach saw the open shed and the toilet.

“Brian, come on! We’ve only got another hour before our moms call us for dinner.”
“But I really gotta go!”
“Fine, but you’re on your own!”

He didn’t need their help. He’d use the toilet and get back to skating. It was winter after all.

He sat down on the snow-colored commode and did his business. He tried to stand up, but his behind wouldn’t budge.

Worse yet, the water around his skates had since frozen up.

He cried for help, worried that it wouldn’t come.

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – Grazin’ In The Grass

(Author’s Notes: None. Write and go, as they say. Enjoy the fictioneers this week!)

 

sp-overgrown-summer-house

© Sarah Potter

Grazin’ In The Grass

by Miles H. Rost

Summer.

Hot and humid, but also quite a beautiful time for listening to music.

I’d spend many hours sitting in the breezeway of my house, listening to the radio and recording the disc jockeys doing their thing. It was something that really inspired me.

It went everywhere I would go, but it always returned to that breezeway, close to where Dad did his accounting work and where he’d grow hot peppers. The music of my youth, the soundtrack of my life.

Until I was sent outside to play by my mom. Then I had to take my music with me.

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – Greased Lightning

(Author’s note: I remember this prompt! I did this a long time ago! But, the good thing is…we always can have something different! Here ya go!)

al_forbes

© Al Forbes

Greased Lightning

by Miles H. Rost

Dave and Michelle walked out of the recent reshowing of Grease!, celebrating it’s 35th year.

“Seriously, Michelle, cars aren’t made like that anymore,” Dave said, putting on his jacket.
“Neither are the people.”
“Yeah, but what if we could have fun like that here in this modern world?”

Michelle brushed her frizzy black hair from her eyes.

“It would be…hissstorical…”

Dave shot her a look, and grinned.

“Undeniable…”
“Utterly illogical…”

They looked at each other.

“Why it could be our next PROM THEME!”

Dave put his arm around Michelle, walking back toward his 1970 Dodge Charger.

“Time to tell the prom committee…”

wpimg

Friday Fictioneers – Don’t Forget Me When I’m Gone

(Author’s Note: I keep giving excuses. There’s no real excuse for not having anything besides fictioneers this week. I just got lazy this week, and I needed it. Anyhow, here it is!)

© Kent Bonham

Don’t Forget Me When I’m Gone

by Miles H. Rost

“Cindy! Cindy, it’s time for dinner!”

Mom was calling again. I hated when that happened, because it means that fun was to end and my studies had to begin again.

I pulled my coloring book off the rock and put it under my arm. I couldn’t wait to get back to it tomorrow.

“Hey!”

I heard a noise coming from somewhere.

“HEY!”

I looked around. “Hello?

“In the book, you brat!” it said, quite muffled.

I opened up the book, and the stick man which Ihad half-colored was frowning at me.

“You nearly killed me, kid!”

It spoke. And it wasn’t going to shut up. Oh no, Mom’s not gonna be happy about this…

Friday Fictioneers – Sweet Caroline

(Author’s note: It’s been a busy week here at Music and Fiction. 3 different stories have been posted for your perusal, and I hope you can read them all. You can read the mini-fictions The Lament of the Scribe and 5 Steps, plus the longer fiction Walking On Ice (my current personal favorite of mine.) Make sure to comment on them, as a few of these were actually created as a result of class exercises for my university courses. Besides that, please enjoy today’s creation.)

©Madison Woods

Sweet Caroline

by Miles H. Rost

We had just pulled up to the drive thru on Route 7. I was reaching for my wallet when Caroline shrieked.

“Honey! What’s wrong?”
“I can’t stand bugs! And there are two right under the drive-thru window!”

Being a valiant man, I reached over the seat to get them. In my haste to shoo the beasts away, I miscalculated my reach. I let out a “whoa!” just before my face landed in her lap. I heard a gasp, then a breath.

“My darling, if you wanted pie, you should have just said so…”

I looked up at her, and she cracked up. I can’t help but crack up now whenever she, my beautiful wife, asks if I want pie.