Friday Fictioneers – The End

Copyright - Rich Voza

Photo Copyright – Rich Voza

The End  (Sci-Fi 100 words)

I lost control at mile marker 51, but I was never really in charge, anyway.

The car skidded to a stop in front of these three doors. Finally, I thought. A way out of all this mess. 

My gut said, “Red,” but she’s been known to lie, so I picked blue. A cloud of voices, shrieking and whispering words I couldn’t understand, knocked me to my feet as it spilled through the door and onto the highway.

It’s too late now. The doors are gone. I just wanted you to know, before they kill us all, how I ruined everything.


If you have a moment, my son has written a story to go with today’s photo. He’s not an official Friday Fictioneer (yet), but his story is here, if you are interested in reading it:


Friday Fictioneers (n): A world-wide community of writers addicted to writing 100 word stories based on a photo prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Read or Join here:


19 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – The End

    • Thanks so much! I doubt I’ll write a longer story because I’d have to do it JUST right and I have so many other stories I want to write, but if I did expand it, I’m envisioning a mental patient undergoing counseling for his delusions about a past involving these doors and the end of life on earth as we know it… everything all very contemporary and mundane and clearly this narrator has gone completely off the deep end… until said narrator of questionable sanity stumbles upon three doors and realizes his therapist has been feeding him an absolutely false reality and he alone can save what little remains of life on earth, if only he can escape his alien/otherworldly captors. Like I said, it would have to be done just right…

    • The short story is he inadvertently opened a portal for some earth-destroying entities (aliens or parallel universe or something). He has a history of doing stupid things, ruining relationships, etc., so he’s a little ho-hum about his control of his life and about his judgment. I originally pictured him confiding this little story to someone as the aliens (or whatever) advanced, a sort of death bed confession, but after further thought, I think he’s been taken captive by the aliens, who are treating him as a mental patient in a world that looks very much like ours, feeding him a false reality and “counseling” him out of his delusional belief that he played a role in Earth’s demise. Oh, and he might be a she… haven’t decided yet, because I’ll probably never write this story. Still, it’s fun to plot! 🙂

  1. Dear Lisa,

    This is quite eerie. I’m wondering if she lost control at the 51 mile marker if the doors signify death? Or is she being pursued by aliens? Sorry for being the dense one.



    PS Your son has talent. Tell him to feel free to write more. 😉

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