Tag Archives: Monday Finish the Story fiction

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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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”.

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Feeling the Music – short story

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Monday Finish the Story. Hosted by Barbara W. Beacham

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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)

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The Sacrifice

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Monday Finish the Story with host Barbara W. Beacham

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Picture: Barbara Beacham

The Sacrifice © JLeahy  

They followed the buffaloes and their babies along the trail heading into the woods. At trail end Aka ran forward and sliced the youngest calf and wrenched out its heart.

The calf gave a horrifying shrill and fell back; the rest dashed for the woods.

Blood spurted in a red fountain, saturating the soft green bushes, ground and his shirt.

“Look! Look Ahwen, it’s still beating”, he said mesmerized by the throbbing organ in his bloody hand.

I staggered back against the old rain tree. I stared at the convulsing calf beside his leg.

“Why did you do that, why?” I shouted.

I AM a warrior,” he said.

“A warrior ONLY kills for food.”

“We can take this calf to eat.”

“It’s not ours, it belongs to the sanctuary”, I looked at the cluster of houses at the head of the trail. Soon, someone will know.

“Let’s leave!” I ordered.

(150 words)

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Star-Crossed Lovers

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Monday Finish the Story with host Barbara W Beacham

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Picture by Barbara W. Beacham

Star-crossed Lovers © JLeahy

The neighbours were not happy about my choice of yard art. Beck shot me a look this morning before crossing to Mildred’s house.

I found the bison and hunter at a pawn shop. The owner wanted to get rid of them – cheap! He said it was an important reminder of our near-sighted ancestors killing all the bison.

“They’re special, you won’t find these anywhere”, the man assured. Sure, they looked ridiculous, but I wanted something like that for my stuffy neighbourhood. We moved here two months ago and I needed to get some laughs. My neighbours weren’t bad people, just very dull.

At 8pm, I heard Beck shouting over the TV.

“You have to get her to get rid of those stupid things. Mum keeps waking up at night to talk to the statue. She tells him how much she missed him while he was away hunting”.

“We are NOT going to remove the statues – make your mother take her medication!!”

(150 words)

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A Dam Explosion – Short Story

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Monday – Finish The Story

Inspired by Millie Thom and others who take part in this exercise, I decided to try the flash fiction challenge. The challenge asks for a story in 100 -150 words from a picture and a first line prompted by host, Barbara W. Beachman.

Team Work
Image copyright: Barbara Beachman.

“When the team heard the dam explode, the team knew they had limited time to make it to safety.

They were collecting specimens along the riverbank when local villagers warned; environment activists were blowing up the dam. The five ran and jumped into their yellow Kathmandu raft and anxiously strapped on life jackets. Gushing water headed downhill towards them. The raft was spat by the force of dam water metres into the air and slammed down into racing current.

“Noooooo!” screamed Wendy; she had been thrown off the raft.

Wendy! Wendy! The remaining scientists yelled against loud sounds of the rushing water. Nothing. The four held on tightly as the tiny, floating yellow raft bounced roughly down the wide powerful current. Kilometres later, the water poured into Mellow River.

Soon, darkness came and the current delivered them ashore a deserted bank. They lost everything and still, no sign of Wendy. (150 words)

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blogging, Life, Living, People, Stories, writing

The FourJs – Short Story

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Musicians

Mondays Finish The Story

Little did they know when the photographer took their picture that they would find themselves trapped in a painting.

“Smile please” the photographer ordered with a devilish grin.

The FourJs, brothers Jim, John, Jack and Jonathan brushed themselves and stood proud. The camera flashed, before it went pitch black. For half hour, Jonathan, 17, the youngest of the FourJs Band, tried to move, shout and even blow his trumpet. Nothing came out. He reached for his oldest brother John, 25. John’s arm felt cold. Jim and Jack were frozen too. People passed them in the street, throwing coins into the tuba case. Traffic hummed. The woman with the funny smell passed quickly, her high heels clicking sharply on the footpath.

“Jonathan! Jonathan! Jo-na-than!”

“Yes!” Jonathan murmured and looked into John’s face.

He had one of those attacks again.

“You, to the doctor” John said, relieved his little brother was ok.