Friday Fictioneers – Weighed and Measured

27 09 2013

Morning all. Friday once again and time for another 100 words of fiction based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle for organizing. Please visit Rochelle’s blog to find out more about the Friday Fictioneers. I don’t claim to be a writer, I do this for a bit of fun. So constructive criticism is always welcome as I’m here to learn.

(c) Rich Voza


Weighed and Measured

As the final episodes of my life finished flashing past my eyes, I dropped to my knees, hands clutching fruitlessly at my failing heart.

Through the pain and the tears I glimpsed three doors. White would lead me up to Heaven, blue would guide me to Purgatory, Red . . . to the other place.

My mortal life was over, I had been weighed and measured. Had I led a worthy life? A good life? Nobody is perfect, but do you need to be? We all have our faults . . . and our regrets.

Slowly, the door swung open.

P.S.  What colour is your door?


Friday Fictioneers – Carrying On

20 09 2013

Happy Friday one and all!  Time for another little gobbet of nonsense prose for all the world to scratch their head over. If you have stumbled upon this post by accident, well good for you. It’s all part of the Friday Fictioneers; 100 words of fiction (supposedly) on a Friday, inspired by a photo prompt. If you’d like to join in, visit Rochelle for the guidelines.

Copyright John Nixon

Carrying On

Albert Potter leaned wearily on his bamboo walking stick and peered in through the glass windows of Orlando Watt’s second-hand shop.

It seemed like a longer walk each year; but he had to come to say hello. And just in case . . . goodbye.

The pure white lace of the wedding dress looked as crisp and clean as it had so long ago. The staff always kept it spotless and seemed to discourage prospective buyers.

He could see her now; unblemished skin as smooth and pale as alabaster, still just as fresh as the day she was embalmed.

Friday Fictioneers – Time to Change

13 09 2013

Ok, I know, I’ve been neglecting my Friday duties for far too long, and it might have continued but for the fact that I happened to spot  Jan’s photo and it immediately brought back lots of great New York memories.

I may be as English as well . . . Johnny English, but many years ago I worked in New York for a year, down near Wall Street. I watched baseball games in the evening sun, saw more concerts in one year than the rest of my life, chilled out in Central Park, and discovered a whole host of fast food franchises that I never new existed.

Mayor Ed Koch used to say that being a New Yorker was not about where you were born, but rather “to be a New Yorker you have to live here for six months, and if at the end of  the six months you find you walk faster, talk faster, think faster, you’re a New  Yorker”.


If you’ve happened across this post by chance, it’s part of Friday Fictioneers; 100 words of fiction on a Friday based on a photo prompt. Visit Rochelle to learn more.

Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Time to Change

Boats thump across the choppy harbour waters, spray sparkling in the spring sunshine. Behind them waves sweep across Battery Park.

Ahead looms the recently elevated Statue of Liberty, still welcoming the huddled masses now flooding in from the low lying countries around the globe.

History repeats itself, and once again they come seeking a better life. But this time they are the engineers and the scientists; not the labourers and the stevedores. This time they are the teachers, come to show us a better way, a way to ensure that Lady Liberty will never need to be raised again.