Tag Archives: flash fiction

Stories, Writing Stories

Judged Five Best Short Story Entries for 2017 Crocodile Prize Competition

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Short Story finalists from the Crocodile Prize – Papua New Guinea’s national annual literary competition.

Crocodile Prize PNG

Below are the five best short stories entered for the Short Story Category of the 2017 Crocodile Prize Competition. The numbers of the short stories entered for the 2017 Crocodile Prize Competition was low compared to the previous years. But the quality has been outstanding. The story lines and characters were better developed. The stories were better organised so the build-up to a climax were deliberate and entertaining. The emerging writers have also come from a more diverse background. Electricians to carpenters and Literature students of the University of Papua New Guinea and more. Several of these are first timers who do not identify themselves as writers. The following titles below were the selected short list of the winners after the long process of filing, culling and judging. Only one more process is left, that is: Selection of the overall winner among the 5 winners as identified by the judges.

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Art, blogging, Life, Living, Nature and Environment, Stories, writing, Writing Stories

The Looming – Short Story

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2015-07-20-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story

This is a unique flash fiction challenge where Barbara W. Beacham provides a new photo and the first sentence of a story each week. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words. This challenge runs from Monday to Sunday.

The Looming JK.Leahy short story ©

The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event.

The old man’s eyes widened. He blinked from the petroglyphs and stared into the sky. The interpretation led to the present. Something was happening. Yawing, seven, could sense the fear in his grandfather’s voice.

Yawing followed Old Manu’s eyes; the clouds gathered into a thick dark cover.

“What is it, grandpa?”

“There’s no time”

“No time for what?”

“Go! Get your mother!” Old Manu ordered Yawing. “We need to move quickly. It is coming for us”.

“What is coming for us?”, Yawing asked, wide-eyed. He reversed to the door.

“Go!”

Yawing quickly turned and ran to find his mother among the women at the river. He tripped and fell.

“Mother! We must leave, now”, Yawing shouted with a mouthful of sand.  He spat.

“They are coming for us!”

Yawing’s alarmed voice chilled into silence, his three little sisters, playing outside their house. As they watched, he ran to their mother.

 

blogging, JK. Leahy Short Stories, Life, Living, People, short stories, Stories, Women, writing

Magda’s Luck – Short Story

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2015-06-15-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story is a unique flash fiction challenge where Barbara Beacham provides a new photo and the first sentence of a story each week. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. This challenge runs from Monday to Sunday.

Magda’s Luck – Short Story © JKLeahy

At first, it looked like an ordinary marble, but it was far from it. Magda got to it, reached down awkwardly and picked it up. It was big and heavy.

Years of factory work damaged her back. Magda longed for an easy way to survive. The ball was larger than a cricket ball yet smaller than a soccer ball.

“Perrr-fect!” she smiled to herself and wiped off the red dirt.

This was a sign. She closed her eyes in prayer. She has seen it done in the markets with no truth in it and told Chek. Besides, who would know? Her husband Chek died last year.

With her gypsy olive skin, a pair of wild gooseberry eyes set against her greyish black hair, Magda was ready.

She pushed her Coles trolley to Brisbane’s West End markets. Already she could predict her own future. Her years of struggle are about to end in a few hours when she starts her new career  – predicting people’s futures.

blogging, Life, Living, My Art, People, Stories, writing

The Eye of the Storm – Short Story

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2015-06-08-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story is a flash fiction challenge by Barbara W. Beacham. Here is my story for this week’s prompt in the first sentence below and in reference to the above picture. 

The Eye of the Storm ©JK Leahy short stories

Zeus was not having a good day and he made sure everyone knew it. Mack was a mess as soon as Zeus got going.

“Get me a cleaver…”

“Nooooo! Pleease! Oh god – I’m sorry!” Mack sobbed and gurgled as I ran to boss’s collection for a blade. I almost dropped it; my legs could barely keep up.

As Zeus’ knuckles tightened to white around the knife handle, I desperately avoided his predatory gaze, leering at me through the lightning bolt tattoo across his right eye.

“Now, get out” he growled. I didn’t linger.

Mack had hidden Zeus’s package as well as the money. He lied. I warned him that Zeus would not buy it. The kid messed up.

I wondered why you’d risk losing some fingers for a few bucks, and then I heard a chop. Mack’s screams battered the walls of the warehouse, and the echoes shook my bones. I guess you never quite get used to working for a psychopath.

(149 words)

blogging, JK. Leahy Short Stories, short stories, Stories, writing

The Carménère Moment – Short Story

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The Carménère Moment©JLeahy Short Story 

2015-05-25-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W, Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story with Barbara W.Beacham

“The only residents remaining in the small town of Miners Hill are spirits.” Uncle Joseph said.

A tear rolled down his wrinkled tired face. The Eastern Belt explosion left several hundred dead last week. The town was evacuated. I watched another tear form and my eyes salted.

“My first thoughts were Josepha, Maria, and Antonia”.

“Where were you?”

“We sat for dinner. I went down to get a bottle of wine from the cellar – only minutes away”, he covered his face with bloody bandaged hands and wept.

My 50-year-old uncle cried as I rubbed his shoulders.

“I…I heard a single explosion, it sounded so far away. I thought it was the daily blasting at mine site. I should have come up. Antonio wanted a Carménère to celebrate Maria’s first communion. I couldn’t read the labels…suddenly I heard the crumbling, screams upstairs and everything went black”.

“Don’t cry, please uncle. They are with God now”, I whispered, as I cried with him.

(150 words)

 

authors, blogging, Life, Living, My Art, People, Stories, writing

“Never judge a book by its movie” – The Mystery

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books

How many times have we heard this comment and seen the quote on the web? We also hear friends or family members complain that ‘the movie was not as good as the book’?  How wonderful is it to have so much more in a book?… and I am talking about a good book.

Have you ever wondered who J.W. Eagan is? He or she is supposed to be the author of the quote.

“Never judge the book by its movie” is one of the most popular book quotes on the web – but do you know its author?

She or he must be a writer. Or maybe a literary critic. A screenwriter? Hollywood-based reporter? A charismatic lecturer or passionate librarian?

The web including Google and Wikipedia, do not know this clever person. You won’t find J.W. Eagan bio on the internet.

It’s interesting that one of the most quoted persons of the Internet is so astonishingly anonymous. The quote has been shared hundreds of thousands of times each day in social media. It’s being reused on posters, t-shirts, mugs, and endless number of quote pictures.

Read more of this interesting story here.

blogging, Life, Living, People, short stories, Stories, Women, writing

Brooding Storm – Short Story

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Mondays Finish the Story by Barbara Beacham

This is a flash fiction challenge where Barbara W. Beacham offers a picture and the first sentence of the story. Based on the photograph and the first sentence, one must come up with a 100-150 word short story.

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Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

BROODING STORM © JK. Leahy

The crew of the Angel Flame received orders to head out. When Yakov and Marishka reach the secluded Russian base, most men had already boarded.

Marishka wiped her tired eyes as her husband walked to the submarine, leaving her, their newborn Polinka and their sick two-year-old, Boris. It was a dreary Friday at 5am; three lost seagulls skirted past Yakov, fleeing the brooding storm.

After Yakov’s head vanished into the submarine, Marishka left – four hours later the snowstorm hit. The radio announced that nobody was hurt. Marishka medicated and monitored Boris’s temperature.

The next day at 7am she heard a knock. It was persistent. Unwrapping herself from Polinka, she reached for her gown.

Marishka caught a glimpse of a man in uniform through the winter-frosted glass and threw open the door with a grin. Expecting to fall into Yakov’s arms, her stomach sank when instead she met the gaze of a stone-faced man carrying Yakov’s personal effects.

“Mrs Vladimir?”

“…Yes?”

 

 

blogging, JK. Leahy Short Stories, Life, Living, Nature and Climate Change, Nature and Environment, People, short stories, Stories, Women, writing

The Missing – Short Story

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2015-05-11-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story

Arriving at the beach, she reflected on her life. Mea searched the waves for two poles where the village bell hung. She had missed the bell sounds and the village gatherings. It has been 20 years since she left for Australia. The bell hung in the village centre; now, only seawater.

“I can’t see it,” she told her brother Tau.

“I don’t think it’s there anymore”.

“Right there” she pointed. “And what happened to Bubu Raga’s coconut trees?”

“The King tides, five years ago, took Moale’s family’s house, betel nut, breadfruit and the coconut trees. We dashed for the hill”.

“Oh My God! That would’ve been scary”.

“Yes, we lost everything. That was the day Chief Naka accepted the government’s offer to relocate us with other climate change refugees. It’s strange being on other people’s land. You are very restricted, but in the past 30 years, the water has raised so much. Our island will soon be completely submerged”.

authors, blogging, JK. Leahy Short Stories, Life, Living, People, short stories, Stories, Women, writing

Mind Games – Short Story

22 Comments

2015-05-04-bw-beacham

Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

 Mondays Finish the Story by Barbara W. Beacham

This is a unique flash fiction challenge where Barbara provides a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. The challenge runs from Monday to Sunday! 

Mind Games  ©JLeahy

“After losing her head, she realised that the rest of her body was falling apart”, Joe would mimic a psychiatrist.

I sat by the window. The sun warmed my scalp and shadows danced on my hands. In hiding, I watched police take Joe away last night. He would have calmed down, but only he and I knew that; not our new neighbours.

We could have lasted in this abandoned house. If only Joe stayed quiet. My thoughts hurt my head.

“Ava! Ava! Where is your doll?”

Over the low white fence were a lilac doll pantsuit and two doll hands.

I had watched Ava at work yesterday. The toddler first ripped the doll’s head and legs, which she threw towards me. Ava caught me watching her. She laid the doll arms and pantsuit down, and dropping the body, she ran to the house. My eyes salted, thinking how scary I must have looked to her. I must leave before the Johnson Mental Health party arrives.

(150 words excluding the opening quote)

blogging, JK. Leahy Short Stories, Life, Living, short stories

Feeling the Music – short story

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Monday Finish the Story. Hosted by Barbara W. Beacham

2015-04-27-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

Feeling the Music © JLeahy

“Are you laughing at me?” Enoch asked me. His voice quivered and softened at the end of his question. Self pity.

“No! I love the orchids. They are beautiful.”

I looked at him, the sincerity in his large brown eyes made me want to laugh again, but I stopped myself. Without the harshness of the piercings in his nose and above his brows, and his terrible haircut, you could call him handsome.

“How did you afford this?”

“Oh, I had some money; my casual job.”

I looked at this 18-year-old boy and wondered what his parents would think, especially his mother – if she knew he was chasing his middle-aged music teacher. I held the orchids closer and observed the silky tenderness in its intricate layers of petals. I knew these flowers so well.

Each morning, I admired them as I passed the flowers at the front of the principal’s office.

(150 words)