Friday Fictioneers: Waiting

Its that time of week again.. its Friday Fictioneers time, you know, the time when Rochelle instructs us to write a story in 100 words or less (use every word, that’s the best way) with a beginning, a middle and an end based on the picture below, which this week is provided by Roger Bultot, and a wonderful wistful picture it is. So I’d best get thinking…

On My Marks…

Get Set…


Where was one a mossy stump was now a picnic bench. The chap had been there waiting for what seemed like an eternity, meaning for ever; so actually he wasn’t done, not yet. No one knew how long, because no one had been there as long as him.

Trees yielding berries had given way to Nachos and Pizzas, his hair had grown, and then turned to grey to white. Concrete had been conceived and monstrous constructions had appeared, not forgetting the voluminous forests before.

But he still sat. He had a daypack now, containing an amaranthine plastic bottle of water.

100 worst on the nose, read it and weep fat boys


  1. I got hung up on “amaranthine.” Looked it up, and it means what I thought it did. So is the bottle never going to waste away, or the color, or the water? And I’m also trying to figure out the “fat boys” comment. Sorry to be so ignorant 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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