This is my contribution to Mondays Finish the Story. This flash fiction challenge requires up to 150 words excluding the first sentence provided by Barbara Beacham. Barbara also provides the image. This image inspired several stories, but I decided to go with this one. I hope you enjoy the story.
“The Cold Lazarus” – JK.Leahy short story
“Few knew about the castle hidden inside the island.” Jezebel climbed carefully over the fragile, sunburnt coral.
As her tender arches gripped for support, she reached out to push the hanging vines apart. Crushed coral dust and tiny pale branches fell off her feet and into the deep blue ocean a few metres below her. A boat approached. Beyond the gentle hum of the breeze, there was a splash in the creek at the opening. Jezebel hesitated before high strident, piercing screeches shocked her as a swarm of black scrawny bats flew at her, ruffling her wispy golden hair. She gasped for air. Suddenly, it dawned on her. The note on her window that led her here; was that really a note from James, her sweetheart? Or was it from Lazarus, James’ evil twin? Ice flooded her veins as she saw his towering, hefty silhouette come into view at the castle entrance. Where was James?
Robinson Fairo, Figurine, Solomon Islands. Photo: Collection of Waikato Museum via SPC.
A training programme to enhance the business, marketing and product development skills of cultural producers in Solomon Islands began this week in the capital Honiara. The Solomon Islands is part of the Melanesian region of the South Pacific. The secretariat of Pacific Community (SPC) reported in its newsletter Culture Talk that cultural industries in Solomon Islands represent an important economic sector as well as the country’s rich heritage and culture.
Although there are increasing numbers of cultural producers in Solomon Islands, only a few training programmes target this sector to assist producers to export their cultural goods.
Supported by European Union, the training called “Enhancing the Pacific Cultural Industries: Fiji, Samoa and Solomon Islands” project, was implemented by the Secretariat of the Pacific Community (SPC) and the Pacific Islands Forum Secretariat (PIFS). The training is held in partnership with the Solomon Islands Ministry of Culture and Tourism and the Solomon Islands Arts Alliance.
Dear friends, I am away from this blog for an assignment. I will be back with loads of stories – I promise. My son Nathan said he may cover the blog for me while I’m gone. He somewhat likes the Mondays Finish the Story fiction challenge and the Cool Stuff. I hope it is not like when he says he would do the dishes and then I find them in the sink when I come home. Jokes aside, don’t despair if you don’t see a post in the next couple of weeks, just think of all the stories I will be telling you when I return. Besides, Nathan may surprise all of us with one of his tales.
In this post before I go, I wanted to revisit the accidental artwork. If you have been wondering what happened to the work I pressed – this was the result when I ‘harvested’ it a few days ago.
I set with leaves and natural dyes in an earlier post (The Accident Artwork – Art Experiments). After three weeks of moist disintegration of leaf fibres on paper with tea, coffee and garden dyes, the work was totally unexpected.
In the work above and below, I used Acacia leaves with tea and other boiled leaves.
In the next two work below, I used coffee and gum leaves. This is what rotten gum leaves look like on paper. The liquid is quite thick and can really stain.
I am thinking of trying the mixture to stain wood furniture next time.
I also would like to wish all Papua New Guineans a Happy 40th Independence Day today – 16th September.
In her new book, legendary singer Grace Jones has dismissed the new generation of provocative pop stars, like Miley Cyrus and Nicki Minaj, as a “passing phase”.
She says young artists have copied her style and have no “long-term plan”.
Described as an original thinker and performer, Jones, who is famous for her raunchy onstage antics, makes the claim in her new book, I’ll Never Write My Memoirs.
She discusses the current state of the music industry and declares many female singers set out to shock and then struggle to maintain their popularity.
I remember making these wheels with my cousins when I was a child. They are supposedly a boys’ toy, but I tried driving it more than once. I have to admit, it was fun.
You need an old tyre, a small bottle filled with water and two sticks. You put the stick ends in the bottle and place the bottle inside the tyre. The wet bottle slides inside the old tyre and drives it forward as you push the sticks. You can drive it anywhere across country.
The Intriguing One-LeggedWaiter – Short Story JK.Leahy@
JK.Leahy Picture taken with a Samsung phone.
The intriguing one-legged ‘waiter’ perched on a strategic position, high above the dining area, next to an owl’s statue. He waited for his lunch. He caught my eye when I entered the restaurant with my friend Ratna Rashid for lunch today in Brisbane. Next, the one-legged ‘waiter’ flew down to a set table. He blended into the table arrangements.
JK.Leahy picture taken with a Samsung phone
Amongst the cutlery and the wine glasses, his reflections multiplied and moved as he turned his head from side to side – eyeing the patrons. He waited patiently, not missing a single movement as The Kenmore restaurant slowly filled up. When the first three tables were taken, the one-legged ‘waiter’ flew closer to those tables and listened to conversations, at least that’s what I thought. He was striking a prefect balanced pose – on one leg.
The Restaurant Manager walked out to the alfresco and was annoyed. Quickly, the ‘waiter’ flew up to safety on a ledge, eight metres high. It was almost midday.
JK.Leahy picture taken with a Samsung phone.
As the manager turned his back, the ‘waiter’ flew down and landed next to the first plate of entrée. The patron cursed and brushed the ‘waiter’ and he flew to the next empty table and waited.
The manager returned and shooed the ‘waiter’ and apologised to the patrons.
“It won’t go away, it lives here,” the manager said.
Two more tables got filled. The ‘waiter’ scooped down and brushed the new customers behind the manager’s back, in an almost friendly gesture. Then the ‘waiter’ patiently waited. Looking from side to side at each table the waiter inspected what was served.
Finally, a customer on the first table departed. The ‘waiter’ swooped in and went for the leftover chips. Who doesn’t like chips? As the ‘waiter’ made himself comfortable, the manager returned and cursing loudly – he chased the ‘waiter’ away.
Up into the ledge and another wait while the manager clears the table, not wanting to wait for his staff to take the plates. The minute the manager turned his back, the One Legged Waiter swooped down to the floor – where the last chip had dropped to the floor. Lunch was served.
JK.Leahy picture taken with a Samsung phone.
The ‘waiter’ is a part of the family of local butcher birds in Western Suburbs, Queensland. Thank you Ratna for the lunch and the enjoyable conversation.
Those who love orchids know their exotic blooms and unusual colours. Some have certain places and conditions they like to grow in. But did you know of the weird sex life of orchids?
While I was away, one of my orchids bloomed for the first time. I had been wondering when she would flower. Perhaps her deception to attract pollination or her ‘voodoo’ did not work for the 12 months I grew her. This orchid (pictured above) is one of several I received from my sister-in-law Ufi Leahy’s garden in Kenmore, before she returned to PNG. I was ecstatic to find each clump – wherever I had planted them, bloomed.
The great majority of animal pollinated plants secure the services of their animal pollinators by providing food rewards such as nectar or pollen. However, orchids are exceptional in that perhaps as many as one-third of the 30,000 or so species achieve pollination by deception. That is, they lure animal pollinators to the flower by false promises of food, but do not provide any. They are all show – just for the sex and no rewards for their visitors. Most of orchid species are ‘food deceptive’ – falsely advertising the presence of food by bright colors and sweet scents.
We animals don’t give plants nearly enough credit. “A vegetable” is how we refer to a person who has been reduced to a condition of utter helplessness, having lost most of the essential tools for getting along in life. Yet plants get along in life just fine, thank you, and had done so for millions of years before we came along. True, they lack such abilities as locomotion, the command of tools and fire, the miracles of consciousness and language. But the next time you’re tempted to celebrate human consciousness as the pinnacle of evolution, stop for a moment to consider exactly where you got that idea. Human consciousness. Not exactly an objective source.
Ophrys eleonorae and Ophrys lupercalis, a wild hybrid orchid, whose pollinator, a male solitary bee, is engaged here in pseudocopulation. Photograph: Christian Ziegler/Minden Pictures
So let us celebrate some other pinnacles of evolution, the kind that would get a lot more press if natural history were written by plants rather than animals. I’m thinking specifically of one of the largest, most diverse families of flowering plants: the 25,000 species of orchids that, over the past 80 million years, have managed to colonise six continents and almost every conceivable terrestrial habitat, from remote Mediterranean mountaintops to living rooms the world over. The secret of their success? In a word, sex. But not exactly normal sex. Really weird sex, in fact. Click here to read more.
Series 1 of 2 Open. Forest Mantis Orchid (Caladenia attingens) Margaret River area, Western Australia
National Geographic: The genus name of the forest mantis orchid (Caladenia attingens) is derived from the Greek words calos (meaning beautiful) and aden (meaning glands), referring to the colourful labellum and the glistening glands that adorn the middle of flower. Their shape and colour mimicking female insects, attracting male insect pollinators. I like this wasp orchid because it also looks like the Bird of Paradise.
Mondays Finish the Story is a flash fiction challenge by Barbara W. Beacham. The story requires 100-150 words (excluding the first sentence which Barbara writes). She also provides the picture. The challenge runs from Monday to Sunday. Last week, I was away in PNG and missed this one but the picture inspired me so I went ahead and wrote my story. My son Nathan wanted to write a story for this challenge as well so I hope you like what we did.
“The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.”
On the edge, Maine, Tony and Boxer stopped. It rained. Cuffed in a hessian bag, Benny struggled. In turns, they kicked him into a bloody heap. The bag came off.
“Leave him,” Tony said. “The animals will get him”.
“Finish him off – Frank’s orders,” Maine growled and kicked Benny in the crotch.
Benny curled, feeling warm between his legs where his urine could not wait.
“Someone’s coming. Run!” – Boxer yelled and drove away.
A car stopped. Footsteps approached.
“I told those idiots to bury the fucker. He’s alive? Pick him up”. It was Frank.
Four hands shoved under Benny’s arms. They drove to the cemetery and stopped.
“Throw him in there,” Frank ordered. Benny hit the fresh grave landing – hard. He waited for the trigger. Instead, soft, dry soil slapped his wet face. Frank was burying him alive, just like he buried his wife, Benny’s lover of two years.
My son Nathan Harris was inspired to write his own 150 words that takes place after my story. This was Nathan’s own writing and I have not changed a word.
“The cemetery spread along the area known as Devils Abode.”
“Seemed a fitting place as any to leave that shit Benny” Frank smirked as he opened his door, escaping the storm. He had just enough time to notice a set of muddy footprints before the crack of a gunshot hushed the rain, and searing pain through his leg dropped him to one knee. As Frank cursed on the floor, the slender form of a dead man dissolved into view; his pinstripe suit was caked with mud.
“Benny?” Frank gurgled, “How the bloody hell did you – ”
“Rookie…” Benny coughed, lungs choking on earth, and emptied his last 5 shots into Frank’s gut.
Frank clutched himself, frozen in pain and fear. As the last moments of his life drained away, Benny strode to the door and glanced back.
“When you try bury someone, you bury them deep…” he began softly, “because a shallow grave won’t hold a vengeful man down.”