Something Will Have To Go

Someting Will Have To Go

This is my umpteenth attempt to reorganise the freezer. My last try I got the ice cream in but at the expense of the frozen peas. I need the peas. According to my late wife, Maureen, it’s the only healthy food I eat.

But I can’t leave the ice-cream out. Life wouldn’t be worth living without a daily scoop of Häagen-Dazs. I suppose the raspberries could go, but that would be such a shame considering what a great crop it was this year.

No, the only answer is to take Maureen’s head out. Or maybe her left leg?

Mike Jackson

A 100-word story for this weeks Friday Fictioneers prompt.

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

What Harm Will It Do You?

A 100-word story by Mike Jackson


Go on, you know you want to. What harm will it do?

Look at those pretzels. Don’t they smell yummy!

Or what about a big, fat, juicy hotdog with lashings of onions, covered in tomato ketchup?

Tell you what, I’ll cover my eyes. That way I won’t see you.

Honest, I promise, I won’t peak. I’ll keep them covered until you’ve finished. That way nobody else will know anything about it.

We’ll keep it a secret between the two of us.

And when you’ve finished I’ve got some ideas as to other temptations you might like to give in to.

Mike Jackson

A 100-word story for Friday Fictioneers.

Photo prompt courtesy of  © Roger Bultot




I wonder if I’ll recognise him.

It was 20 years ago. Went off with the barmaid from the Red Lion. Or at least that’s what Aunty Sue said.

I just remember how much I missed my dad. In the midst of all the anger and shouting, I simply cried.

Then I spot him. Coming towards me. He’s just as I remember him. Older but still that sparkle in his eyes.

I smile but he doesn’t notice.

Then someone shouts ‘Daddy’ and runs towards him. He hurries past me.

Then the tears start. Just as they had all those years ago.

Mike Jackson

100-wordstoryfor this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Where Are You?

A 100-word story.



I remember it as though it happened yesterday.

It was my seventh birthday and dad had stuck a donkey on the wall.

We’d laughed when Jimmy pinned the tail on the left leg.

Then it was my go. When I finally stuck that tail onto the donkey nobody laughed, so I thought I’d done OK. Funny thing was, nobody clapped or cheered either.

When I took that blindfold off and turned around there was not a person in sight.

I’ve been travelling these roads for nigh on two years now – so far I’ve yet to come across another living soul.

Mike Jackson

A 100-word story for this week’s photo prompt at Friday Fictioneers.

Photo courtesy of – J Hardy Carroll

Olympic Standard

A 100-word story for Friday Fictioneers.



Gave it all up when I was fourteen.

Nobody could understand why.

I simply reacted like any teenager. Scowled a lot. Said it was boring and I’d better things to do with my life.

I never mentioned Neil.

The ever-popular, charismatic Mr Neil Samuels. The charming ex-professional who used to keep me behind at the end of sessions for extra tuition. The same dependable man who made me promise not to tell anyone about our little secret.

They said I was good. Olympic standard at least.

Nowadays I can’t go near a swimming pool without being violently sick.


Mike Jackson

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

A 100-word story for the prompt at Friday Fictioneers.

It’s Not Your Time

It's Not Your Time is one of a series of 100 word stories.


“Name and date of birth please, sir.”

“Michael Peter Jones, 21st March 1962”

“And when did you die Mr Jones?”

“Sometime this morning, I think. On the High Street by the synagogue. I got hit by a bus.”

“Oh dear, it appears there’s been a dreadful mistake. It should have been a Mr Peter Michael Jones who died this morning, not you. You’re not due here for a good few years yet. This is most unfortunate. If you’ll take a seat Mr Jones I’ll see about getting you back into your earthly body. Let’s just hope it’s not too late.”

Mike Jackson

The Sunlight Hurt My Eyes



That’s where she kept me. The room with the blinds.

I remember once letting the blinds up, the light from the sun was amazing. She was so angry when she saw what I’d done.  I remember her hitting me with that belt of hers. God, I had some bruises that night.

I didn’t see the sunlight again for another ten years. Not until that policeman came in and took me away. 

I cried for a week. Kept asking to see her but they wouldn’t let me.

I know she ’s evil but you’ve got to remember, she’s still my mum.

Mike Jackson

A 100-word story for Friday Fictioneers.