Tag Archives: Monday Finish the Story fiction

A Chill – Short Story


2015-10-19-c2a9-2015-barbara-w-beacham
Picture: Barbara W. Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story is a weekly flash fiction challenge by Barbara W. Beacham. Barbara provides the picture and the first sentence, and the challenge is to write a story of 100-150 words using the picture and the first sentence. Here is my story.

A Chill – JK.Leahy fiction

“Not knowing what to expect, he made his way into the dark of the forest.” Marcus chuckled to himself, setting off for his morning run. Sun pierced the thick canopy, casting gentle light on his usual track winding through the woods behind his house. He pulled his laces taut as he reminded himself to pick up Elle from her friend’s eighth birthday sleepover to leave her with her mother at ten. As he increased his pace, Marcus thought of his plans for the day, making a special note to pick up Elle.

His daughter had spent the night across town for her best friend’s 8th birthday, but this week she’d be at her mother’s place; Marcus’s ex-wife hated it when he was late. Exhausted, Marcus stopped in a clearing and greedily gulped down the fresh morning air, but despite the heat, he saw something that gave his blood a chill. Hanging from a noose was a rag doll dog with button eyes…his little girl’s dog…

The Cold Lazarus – Short Story


2015-10-05-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

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?

 

Oliver’s Sandwich


Short story

Flash Fiction Challenge for Mondays Finish the Story with Barbara Beacham.

2015-08-17-c2a9-2015-barbara-w-beacham
Picture by Barbara Beacham.

Mondays Finish the Story is a flash fiction challenge by Barbara W. Beacham. The story requires 100-150 words (excluding the first sentence). The challenge runs from Monday to Sunday. Here is my short story for this week’s prompt based on the first sentence below and the picture. (This story is set in Australia where we like to use the term ‘mate’ meaning friend).

Oliver’s Sandwich –  JK.Leahy©

“I see absolutely everything.” Oliver said and stopped. Drawn in by a large black shimmering eye, he placed two fat little fingers up his nose and tried to push them as far as he could.

“What are you doing mate?”

“Trying to find cheese”, the three-year-old replied, ignoring his mother.

“Cheese! Where are you going to put it?”

“On my sandwich.”

“Get your fingers out!”

Oliver pulled his fingers out of his nose and poked the large eye on the tree-trunk. The eye was soft. He pressed harder. Something gave and sucked him into the tree.

“Maaa ummmm!”

Then, minutes went by.

“Oliver! Oliver! Wake up!”

The little redhead stirred. He eyed his mother and sister Georgia.

“You fell and hit your head on the tree mate”, his mother said trying to hug him. Pushing her hands away, Oliver said, “my cheese sandwich?”

“Oh Oliver…” his mother said.

“Never a dull moment”, Georgia agreed.

……..

(Note: Oliver is my friend Celise’s three-year-old son. He has fiery hair and large blue eyes and is an inquisitive and mischievous little boy. Oliver also has something to say about everything).

The Nightshade Escape – Short Story


2015-08-03-c2a9-2015-barbara-w-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham.

Flash Fiction Challenge

Mondays Finish the Story is a flash fiction challenge by Barbara W. Beacham. The story requires 100-150 words. Here is my short story for this week’s prompt based on the first sentence below and the picture.

The Nightshade Escape JK.Leahy Short Story©

“The team employed the use of Nightshade to get the information they wanted from their captive.”

Viola smiled to herself as she finished the paper and her coffee. “Nightshade”, her ‘weapon’ was right next-door, she thought. All this time, her plan to make his death appear subtle, wasn’t working.

Wearing her garden hat Viola strolled to her neighbour’s yard,  pretending to tidy her garden beds. Her blood roses were peeking at her, but she won’t pick them today, the day was fading fast and in a few hours, Greg arrives.

Crouching, she reached through the fence and cut a few shoots and flowers off her neighbour’s nightshades.  A dog barked loudly and so close that Viola leaped, dropping her hat and all the cuttings. She ran back into her house. Shaken, she watched the large doberman sniffing where she sat, seconds ago.

Oh well, if that dog is going to guard the damn nightshade – the rat poison will have to do, she decided.

The Looming – Short Story


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.

 

Magda’s Luck – Short Story


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.

The Eye of the Storm – Short Story


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)

A Twill Weave – Short Story


A Twill Weave – Short Story by JLeahy ©

2015-06-01-bw-beacham
Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

Mondays Finish the Story is a weekly flash fiction by Barbara W. Beacham which runs from Monday to Sunday. This week’s prompt starts with the quote in the story below and the above picture. I hope you enjoy my take on this one. The stories have to be 100-150 words.

A Twill Weave

“What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive”, someone had scrawled in bad handwriting. Humidity and stench made the cell unbearable but I wondered who the writer was. Had a moment of epiphany or remorse released those words?

Months have flown by, but I knew after the bundle was found on me, my five years of trafficking ended. The door turned.

“Mr Chris Dam –ass?” he pronounced Dameche.

“Yes”, I said relieved to get interaction after 24 long hours in the transit cell.

“Follow me,” he said with no emotion.

We walked down the hallway, opposite to where I was first led in. My heart sank.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To another cell, we have someone coming in…to use that one” he said.

At the hallway end, he unlocked a cell.

It was smaller. I looked out and through a tiny grilled window. A huntsman is putting the finishing touches on an elaborated web.

The Carménère Moment – Short Story


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)

 

Brooding Storm – Short Story


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.

2015-05-18-bw-beacham1
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?”