One more short story. Hello and welcome to episode
four of One More Short Story with me, Chris Falwell.
Thank you for joining us again. We're going to
dive into even more stories from the world of
writing battle. Again, if it's not something
you've signed up for and you're into writing
fiction, you absolutely should give it a look.
It's my favourite writing competition. It's a
lot of fun. It's, as I said before, just the
right kind of bonkers. Yeah, I really enjoy it.
We have a delightful little buffet of stories
today. We've got four stories, but they're all
only 250 words long. I think Writing Battle classifies
these as nano -fiction. Short story, flash fiction,
microfiction, nanofiction. Tiny, tiny things.
Now, I've taken part in a couple of these nanofiction
competitions myself and it's harder than it sounds,
right? Knocking up a story which has a clear
beginning, middle and end in 250 words, making
it fun, making it powerful, whatever it is you
want to do. All four of the stories here today
are more light -hearted. Now, I don't... say
that to denigrate them or anybody else it's it's
a skill to be able to do something light -hearted
and funny uh or you know a bit offbeat a bit
bit kooky but yeah i'll start waffling and dive
straight into the first one to begin we have
starstruck by melanie york now this was in last
year's summer nano fiction 250 word competition
and melanie had road trip musician, and chocolate
for her prompts. It's narrated by Regan Westergaard,
so let's get into it. Starstruck by Melanie York,
narrated by Regan Westergaard. The gas station
cashier is a pimple -plagued teen, eyes glued
to his phone, deliberately not noticing me. I
smirk and say, if you want a pic, you could just
ask. The kid looks up. I slide a Hershey's bar
and a crumpled five across the counter. You a
fan? Fan? I lower my shades. Of me? Who are you?
I take my shades off entirely. Jammin' Jersey.
The kid's face is blank. I cluck my tongue. Ask
your dad. He's beep -boopin' on his register.
I'm wondering how to salvage this. I sing, ooh,
ba - Maybe mama tase me. The kid raises his eyebrows.
Sorry? Electric love, I say. Big 80s hit. Heard
of it? Are you on TikTok or something? I grin.
Son, I got 20 ,000 subscribers on the TikTok.
You on it? He nods, bagging up the chocolate.
How about this? I hand him my lyric notepad.
Write your TikTok name. I'll friend you. Maybe
even mention you at my next tour stop. The kid
hesitates, then writes, at gas station Nick.
He slips my notepad and change into the bag.
All right, Nick, I say with a wink. See ya. The
tour van rattles as it belches to life. There's
a red light, so I look up Nick while I idle.
My jaw drops. He's leaning against a Lamborghini,
his pizza face beaming. 16 .7 million followers.
I sigh and tap follow, unwrap the chocolate and
take a big -ass bite. Fuck the light. I floor
it to my next half -empty crowd. I really enjoyed
that one. It's a lot of fun. It's good. Yeah,
I love it. Reagan nails the sort of slightly
deluded. fading pop star there she uh yeah does
a great job uh yeah melanie york that was her
first ever battle and she got herself an honorable
mention in the house stage so that's six out
of ten judges who read her story versus another
voted for hers which is great she's then in her
next battle gone on to sweep the house 10 out
of 10 points and make it all the way to the sweet
16 in the short story contest and and that is
no mean feat so a name to watch out for there
melanie york our next story was actually a winner
in the nano fiction battle it's by ben o 'neill
and it's called pancakes mcbride now i'm not
going to give this away but when i read the prompts
you would not guess in a million years what he's
done with this and it's uh yeah it's great he
he had under the bed bride and pancakes so ben
being ben he's just taken those last two and
named his character pancakes mcbride he's narrated
it himself so i'm going to step back and just
let you enjoy it and i'm sure you will rain belted
the bedroom window a distant saxophone created
a general atmosphere of unease and ambiguity
just another night for pancakes mcbride paranormal
investigator pancakes opened a pouch of brightly
colored salts and glanced at his rotund eight
-year -old client Isn't this dangerous? Billy's
little voice shook. That's why they call me Pancakes
Kid. The grizzled gumshoe growled, tossing the
salt under the twin -sized frame. I never waffle
in the face of danger. The bed shook. Billy screamed
and ran in horror as thick, dripping tendrils
oozed from the darkness. They wrapped around
each other, forming a figure Pancakes knew all
too well. Hello, Deborah. The monster froze.
Pancakes? She was just like he remembered. Grotesque,
squelching, and all woman. Been a while, Pancake
said. Back to your usual tricks? You didn't leave
me much choice. You want to talk about leaving?
You left me, Pancake spat. At the altar? Exactly,
Deborah shrieked. It was a church. So? So, she
said, exasperated. I'm an unholy hellspawn, Pancakes
looked down. He had a point. That, uh, was my
mother's idea, he said sheepishly. Deborah sneered.
Oh, there's a monster. Pancakes smiled. Deborah
formed her gaping maw into a similar shape. Sun'll
be up soon, Pancakes said. Let's say we get out
of here. Get some breakfast. Deborah wrapped
a slimy tendril around the detective's hand.
I got all the pancakes I need right here. They
fell, bodies entwined, onto the young boy's bed.
Pancakes dealt with the monster, giving Billy
new nightmares in the process. Well, there we
are. Poor Billy. Yeah, Pancakes McBride, a lot
of fun. When this genre was revealed under the
bed, everybody, well, not everybody, obviously,
most of us assumed there'd be some kind of horror
or horror adjacent writing. But Ben went, nah,
I'm going to have a marital dispute between a
monster and a grisly detective. And it's, yeah,
well done. Congratulations to Ben. He thoroughly
deserved to win this one. Very well done indeed.
Our next piece is from the Nanofiction Battle
of 2024, so we're going back in time a little
bit here. It's called Shiny Love and it's by
E .M. Forrest. E .M. Forrest is a writer who
always enjoys writing about animals. So, with
the prompts of jailbreak, soulmate and key, E
.M. Forrest is naturally leapt to having birds
in the back of a moving vehicle being transported.
Plotting their escape. Now, I got to narrate
this one a couple of years back, and I'm very,
very glad that I did. I had a lot of fun doing
it. I hope you enjoy Shiny Love by E .M. Forrest,
read by me, Christopher Well. Meet with me, Maggie.
What? It's fate, baby bird. You think the shiny
box stopped here and the scrawny wing left for
nothing? though brash maggie considered the male's
proposal if not for him the magpie would still
be cooped up in the back of the west hill bird
rescue van squawking for help as the rat -a -tat
-tat of a nearby woodpecker slowly drove her
insane well if not for the open window and intoxicating
shine of the ring of keys hanging from the ignition
more like it she considered the fate argument
perhaps it wasn't just good luck that made the
driver pull over abruptly and shuffle away muttering
shit shit shit bad burrito though drawn by the
keys corbin had been entranced by her two -toned
plumage peeking out from behind the wooden slats
accented by her bright pink bandaged leg something
about her had made him want to fan his tail feathers
She'd admired him too. Most of all those eyes,
deep, dark, shiny. Looking into them, she knew
she'd be okay, that she would get out. Any doubts
that remained evaporated when she overheard him
convincing his pal, Lil Peck, to take a break
from working on his beats and help out. The woodpecker
had gone from tormentor to liberator. chiseling
a hole in the upcycled wooden crate. Her mind
was made up. All right, Corbyn, let's do it.
Hoo -hoo, he rejoiced. You lovebirds make me
believe in lifelong mating again, said Lil Peck.
I should make a beat about this. There we are.
Lil Peck is definitely one of my favourite characters
despite their very small amount of airtime in
this story and I think Ian Forrest knows that
I'm waiting for Lil Peck to appear in something
else. That story picked up an honourable mention
back in the house stages and I think when this
was done in 2024 that needed 7 out of 10 and
a tiebreaker to score that honourable mention
so really really strong stuff there. Yeah. Three
out of four stories already. Can you believe
it? Storming through it. I told you they'd be
short and sweet. A little literary buffet for
you. Our last story today is Two Peas in a Pod.
And this is by Rosanne Stridham. Her prompts
were road trip, naive student, and raft. Now,
when she first... I hope she doesn't mind me
saying this, but when Ros first... read this
story, or showed this story to her husband, I
think he asked what on earth was going on. Because
we are taken straight to Two Peas on a Plate.
It's wonderfully narrated by Maverick Jones,
so do please enjoy Two Peas in a Pod by Roseanne
Stridham. Are you in? Pete asked, his green round
body ready to roll. I hesitated. Pete... The
other pea in my pod fancied himself our spiritual
leader. Some vegetables on our dish thought his
teachings were a little... off the plate. Pete
reckoned they were just being starchy. We belong
in a pod, Pete tried to convince me. Not in a
dinner! Around us, the broccoli grumbled disapprovingly.
So you want to find the ocean because you think
we're actually dolphins. I tried to muster logic.
Penelope, we were born in a pod. We belong in
a pod. Dolphins swim in a pod. Behind me, the
carrots snickered. I started... But my resistance
wilted under the hot humidity of the plate. Suddenly,
a large silver fork started its ominous descent
toward us. I'm in, I squeaked, hurriedly rolling
my body aboard the onion raft Pete had prepared.
The world tilted wildly as our onion vessel,
creaking under the burden of destiny and two
plump peas, slid dramatically off the edge of
the plate. In the chaos, a mushroom hollered,
Godspeed! While a potato rolled its eyes. Maybe
believing we'd join a dolphin pod was naive.
More likely, we were destined to join a trash
can talent show. Or become a cautionary tale
in the cult of joy. But... For a split second,
as we hurtled into the unknown, armed with only
faith and a bewildered onion, we felt unstoppable.
Or, at the very least, difficult to catch with
a fork. flee the plate and escape to a pod um
very well narrated by maverick jones there i
think i think my favorite bit is towards the
end when the more absurd the story gets the more
seriously maverick takes it which makes it even
funnier uh rosanna's done a great job there very
very funny story but not just funny of course
funny and well written it got to the thrilling
32 so the last 32 out of hundreds and hundreds
of stories in the knockout stage. So very well
done, Rosanne. And yeah, can you believe it?
We've done four stories already. Blimey. So that's
it. Four fantastic pieces of nanofiction, 250
words apiece. Great things come in small packages
and so on and so forth. Thank you for joining
us on one more short story with me, Chris Fulwell.
We'll see you next time. Thank you.