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Pap Finch

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Apr, 2025

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25 Stories

311 karma pts

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Sans Neige

Weekly Contest #341

How am I supposed to know if it was for the better or the worse? I grew up ordinary—middle-class, suburban home. There were trees and streams, but being in the middle, I never suffered the hardship of the poor, and I couldn’t grasp the frustration of the rich. I guess it’s an advantage, but when I was young, I knew what I wanted. Only the Navy had jets, fast jets. They flew very high and very fast. I wanted to feel those wings. If I had been a pilot, I would have touched the wind, but they couldn’t accept me. My school graduated me, but my g...

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Child of Barley: Mna Na H'eireann

Weekly Contest #341

Loretta O’Toole was born in a sea of barleycorns just outside The Pale, County Dublin. Her first words were, “Woof, woof,” shortly after her future husband, a human known at the time as Peter Louis Lafferty, shot Brendanus Bláán O’Fallon through the left breast for calling him a “Buttermilk Beau” on Bachelor’s Walk, as reported by The Dublin Evening Post. She never learned to read, being a dog and all, but it did not prevent her from being an Irish Woman, raised by Dublin’s welfare system, or alleys as they are known elsewhere, beyond the Em...

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forever young

Weekly Contest #341

She can’t tell if he is looking at Earth or his feet, but she saw what she saw: an angel sitting on the edge of a cloud, contemplating, remembering something. She thought this because his face had reactions. He saw something she could not, and vice versa. She saw how good life could be. A stroke of pink paint drips across the orange sky. A hawk watches doves fly into the sun. A woman gives birth to a baby boy. The child receives a piece of paper that says, "Here is 80 years; do what you can with them."The mother’s name is Kate, and her son i...

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stop me if you think you've heard this one before

Weekly Contest #340

Peacock and ostrich feathers fall from the sky. No, no, make it snow from the sky. Under 32 degrees fahrenheit, water vapor bypasses the liquid phase, and crystalizes over America, just like her citizens, who clump together and… No, just say it snowed, please. It snowed. Now add a character. What kind? Well, what do good characters entail? Depends on what you mean by “good.” I guess interesting would be a better word. Something has to happen to them, something bad, and they usually have to want something. Ok. What about me? What about yo...

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The Púca Verse

Weekly Contest #340

After currying favor with an Anglo magistrate, Joseph O’Fallon was granted a five month leave of absence from building Duckett’s Grove during the 21st year of its construction to see if his uncle, one Will O’Fallon, was dead or alive after a peculiar wind blew in from Dingle, County Kerry, to his home under the rocks of Kernanstown Cromlech, County Carlow in the province of Leinster. Joseph promised to fly the Union Jack over his Uncle, dead or alive, but unbeknownst to the magistrate, Joseph’s fingers were crossed behind his back.The walk w...

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The Fife of Cruach Mhór

Weekly Contest #340

Pete Mueller, as he was then known, was not the first Irishman with two wives, nor the last, but certainly was the only one who claimed modesty out of respect for the Three Popes of 1378.Sick as the dogs in Westminster, he lay in bed, drinking whiskey from his mother’s spoon, procured and provided by Rachel and Loretta O’Shea, who stayed by his side, night and rain, in their room, under a shrub of holly. Pete was not alone in his illness; one Patrick Degnan, the crow of Tralee, had been sitting in a corner for two rain, and it wasn’t until h...

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The Pipe of Rover

Weekly Contest #339

In the year of their lord, in the Kingdom of Ireland, Patrick Kilcullin rode his pony from Doolin, County Clare, to the blacksmith’s shop in Dingle, County Kerry, in the province of Munster. Waiting for him, with a cup of tea and pints of warm ale, was his friend and sometimes enemy, Will O’Fallon, and his young apprentice, the smiling Ann-draysh Oats.“Mr. Kilcullen, I wondered why Master O’Fallon poured a second pint of ale.”With a pinch of rover, Patrick walked through the last smoke of his pipe into the sometimes shop and sometimes bedroo...

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The Luck of Woodrow Romine & Trouble O'Keefe: Dogs to Whom Things Happen

PART II: Song of the Irish Whistle Trouble could not find another game of Mario Kart in him, so he rolled onto his back, against the brown leather sofa, and stared at the ceiling, waiting for someone to scratch the white diamond of hair on his chest, filling the room with farts until it would be hard put to say he was not a farter. Asked by his master, Lord Ed, to step outside if he was going to continue to try to kill him with the mustard gas that seeped from his behind, Trouble thought of demanding satisfaction, but like all who have acqui...

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The Fight

Weekly Contest #339

The dressing room was like a morgue. The lights were all you could hear. At a certain point, he said, “Why is everyone so unhappy? What is the matter with all of you?”The sense was, we were watching a man go to the gallows. We all believed that, with his pride, he was going to take one of the world's worst beatings, ever. That he wouldn’t give up, that he would die, and we were terrified, but after a moment, he looked at us and said, “Why is everyone so unhappy? What is the matter with all of you? We’re going to dance.” He smiled. “What am I...

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Everybody's Got to Learn Sometime

Weekly Contest #339

A thousand bunless hot dogs fall from the sky onto a high school football field. The sun could cook them, but forces greater than the 4.5-billion-year-old sphere of plasma that heats the only known habitable planet in the entire galaxy have other plans. Perplexed by this harmless event, James stays under the football bleachers, watching something he has never been taught, told, or seen, nor his parents, teachers, or peers, but there is one whom the great ball of fire has spoken to the day before.The uncooked hot dogs stop falling, and James,...

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The Immanent Squalor of Transcendence

Weekly Contest #339

Marla pretends not to know how to drive Raquel's car, but, against her wishes, time continues. The speedometer is proof she is acutely aware that her wishes have not come true, zipping down the elevated streets of Cherry Gardens, a town famous for being the center of a 50-year drought. Water travels from reservoirs 300 miles away to fill a glass for all 300 of its inhabitants, but ask any resident, and they'll tell you what they think of the desert."There is a consistency in the sand, the sky, and us in Cherry Gardens. It's still the same," ...

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is anyone else here? (Train in Vain)

Weekly Contest #338

Dark. Can't even see the yellow stream in front of him, but the thing is, he can feel it."What a weird-ass dream?"His eyes are two moons on two different days, half crescents, part yellow and white. He hears a hoot."Is that you, Owl?"Owl doesn't say anything. Owl listens. His name is Crescent."You're probably wondering what I'm doing, Owl? The thing is, I'm asking the same question."Crescent looks left and right, then zips his pants. Doesn't remember a night as dark and as bright."Look at that moon."He turns around."I know you're there, Owl....

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i am home, stupid

Weekly Contest #338

“The longer you look at me, the less beautiful I feel.”“How do you like to feel?”“Beautiful.”“I don’t mean to be a nuisance.”“It’s just your looking.”“Suppose I’ll stop then.”“Would be best.”He drinks coffee from a cup. He hears, “Shhh,” but can see it too. “You’re worse than the devil.”He smiles.“I try to be. You want breakfast.”“I’ll eat anything to get you out of this room.”Texas. God only knows. Bob Dole is popular. “You like em’ over easy or?”“You know I don’t.”“What? Eggs?”“Hold on.”“I’m holding on as long as I can.”“Well, just drop em...

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What is wrong with Andrew?

Weekly Contest #338

I tried watching Blade Runner this morning, but Daryl Hannah just screamed the entire time. Stupid, Desmond.Maybe I’m not a movie person.So I rolled over and found To Kill A Mockingbird. I opened the book and was surprised that the first sentence was not a bird telling us how it died. Like the bird was dead, and telling us a story from the grave, where all birds go, I think, eventually.They don’t let us out much. The People. I think they think we like it simple, but it’s really them who want it simple, The People.Remember Splash, with John C...

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The Luck of Woodrow Romine: A Dog to Whom Things Happen

Weekly Contest #337

Woodrow Romine was born in the year of his Lady and Queen, 2020. Like all British before him, he learned how to fetch and poop in the backyard by the age of one despite the persistent distraction from squirrels, whose blood he discovered was the same colour as his black coat.His master, Lady Deanna, was an American but, like all the well-to-do on this continent, of fine British stock. She and Woodrow lived in Los Angeles, but her family had been in America since 1753 and, to this day, owns half of Alabama, which is like saying one owns half ...

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