{"id":2298,"date":"2025-11-02T10:34:13","date_gmt":"2025-11-02T15:34:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/?p=2298"},"modified":"2025-11-02T10:41:57","modified_gmt":"2025-11-02T15:41:57","slug":"fall-2025-winners-writersweekly-24-hr-short-story-contest","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/?p=2298","title":{"rendered":"Fall 2025 Winners – WritersWeekly 24-hr Short Story Contest."},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Well, I was hoping for a better position but being an Honorable Mention \/ Special Recognition winner of the Writers Weekly Fall 24-hour short story contest<\/a> is okay. I’ll take it!! I did a search to see how many, on average, submit to the Writers Weekly contests and AI told me they have a limit of about 500. I was hoping it was more. ha! Anyway, I love the 24hr format and will try again in the Winter contest.<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For your entertainment, here’s my entry. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The Blood Moon<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two brothers, Lloyd and Wyatt Bernard, sat in decrepit folding chairs on a sagging porch. The boys were tired after a day of fixing the family still. They took turns swigging from an old crockery jug. This part of Kentucky had once been a moonshining capital and a business legacy for the Bernard family going back generations. Now, business was slow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rotting porch faced a well-used dirt road, and beyond lay a field of rotting pumpkins. Behind, to the west, stood a ten-acre wood of pin oak and felled trees mostly covered with overgrown kudzu. Posted signs every ten feet read: No Trespasin, and we mean it! The thicket made access to the shack housing the ancient still nearly impossible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd pointed to the sky. \u201cOh shit, Wyatt, look at that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wyatt nodded. \u201cYeah, we better get inside soon; the moon is turning.\u201d He handed the jug to Lloyd, who slung it up for a swig in a single smooth motion. He sat the jug on the bleached, splintering floorboards between them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd agreed. \u201cOh yeah. That bigass blood moon is gonna be turning orange soon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Wyatt\u2019s eyes squinted as he tried to adjust his eyesight. \u201cThe hell is that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd strained to see, then echoed, \u201cThe hell\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A young girl was skipping down the dirt road singing. She looked itty bitty and rail-thin. Couldn\u2019t be more than 9 years of age with golden hair and a white dress that glowed in the moonlight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wyatt turned to his brother, \u201cWho\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Staring, Lloyd said, \u201cDon\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The girl lifted her chin and cast her arms out wide and belted out, \u201cAnd there\u2019s a blood moon way up in the sky. Blood moon orange…\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The girl froze mid-lyric. So did the boys. She blinked first, then grinned broadly and shouted, \u201cHey fellas. How y\u2019all doing tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd made a doubtful wave. \u201cHey.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without fear or hesitation, she ran toward them. Both men leaned back, as if a freight train was coming their way. Wyatt grasped the metal armrest of his chair, bracing himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She seemed to be ready to charge the porch, so Lloyd held out a hand. \u201cWhoa, little lady. Where you goin?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Skidding to a stop, she giggled and pointed to the porch. \u201cI wanna sit up there with y\u2019all and watch the eclipse.\u201d Ducking her chin and batting her eyelashes she asked, \u201cMay I please?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wyatt stuttered. \u201cUh uh, we only got two chairs here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNuh-uh.\u201d She pointed to a broken-down rocking chair that would probably hold her where it wouldn\u2019t stand a grown man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before either could stop her, she dragged the rocker over beside Wyatt, who was avoiding looking at her. Then, quick as a whip, she snatched up their jug.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMind if I have a drink of your shine?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd, astonished, had no reply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wyatt, glancing nervously between her and Lloyd, said, \u201cUh, you ought not be drinking that! And who says it\u2019s shine?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She took a second drink, then handed the jug to Wyatt, who quickly handed it off to Lloyd, who placed it on the floor beside his chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy mama told me about you boys. She said y\u2019all\u2019s family makes shine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd asked, \u201cWho\u2019s yor mama, girl? I aint never seen you before\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDonna Nell Jones.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Under his breath, Lloyd said, \u201cNo way.\u201d Louder he said, \u201cWell, yeah, I know your mama; we went to grade school together.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, alrighty then, that\u2019s my Mama!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe know where you at?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNope. Her and Daddy are fighting. Again. So, I left for awhile. They\u2019ll never notice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd cocked his head and squinted. \u201cWhere you go to school, girl?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t; Mama homeschools me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDonna?\u201d Lloyd laughs. \u201cShe weren\u2019t smart enough to rub two sticks together.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Drawing herself up, she countered, \u201cWell, she\u2019s the one told me about the lunar eclipse tonight. Who taught you two?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The brothers looked at one another. Neither wanted to admit they\u2019d knew nothing about any eclipses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd shrugged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI bet you don\u2019t even know. Do ya? Ya want to?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The boys shook their heads, no. But that didn\u2019t stop her. She told them all about the sun and the moon and all the magical powers released when they pass over each other and how it could do crazy things like even make those pumpkins out there come back to life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The boys were spooked but listened and studied the eclipse anyway. After it was over, she jumped up and announced, \u201cTime to go! Bye now!\u201d She ran off the way she came, her fluffy blond hair looking like a halo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wyatt said, \u201cWell, that was crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lloyd nodded. \u201cYeah, sure was. We didn\u2019t even get her name. So strange.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next morning in the kitchen, Lloyd grabbed the well-worn phone book, and the wall-mounted handset and dialed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A woman answered, \u201cHello.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey, this Donna Nell?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah. Who\u2019s this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey Donna, it\u2019s Lloyd Bernard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019ll be. Hey, Lloyd.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHey. I just thought I\u2019d check to see if your girl got home safe last night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a long pause, in a quavering voice, Donna replied, \u201cThe hell is wrong with you, Lloyd?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWait, wha\u2026\u201d
\u201cMy baby girl died exactly a year ago. Is this some sick phone prank? Screw you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before he could answer, the sound of the dial tone let him know she\u2019d hung up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then, Wyatt, shouting from the porch, \u201cHey Lloyd! You seen these pumpkins?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Well, I was hoping for a better position but being an Honorable Mention \/ Special Recognition winner of the Writers Weekly Fall 24-hour short story contest is okay. I’ll take it!! I did a search to see how many, on average, submit to the Writers Weekly contests and AI told me they have a limit of about 500. I was hoping it was more. ha! Anyway, I love the 24hr format and will try again in the Winter contest. For your entertainment, here’s my entry. The Blood Moon Two brothers, Lloyd and Wyatt Bernard, sat in decrepit folding chairs on a sagging porch. The boys were tired after a day of fixing the family still. They took turns swigging from an old crockery jug. This part of Kentucky had once been a moonshining capital and a business legacy for the Bernard family going back generations. Now, business was slow. The rotting porch faced a well-used dirt road, and beyond lay a field of rotting pumpkins. Behind, to the west, stood a ten-acre wood of pin oak and felled trees mostly covered with overgrown kudzu. Posted signs every ten feet read: No Trespasin, and we mean it! The thicket made access to the shack housing the ancient still nearly impossible. Lloyd pointed to the sky. \u201cOh shit, Wyatt, look at that.\u201d Wyatt nodded. \u201cYeah, we better get inside soon; the moon is turning.\u201d He handed the jug to Lloyd, who slung it up for a swig in a single smooth motion. He sat the jug on the bleached, splintering floorboards between them. Lloyd agreed. \u201cOh yeah. That bigass blood moon is gonna be turning orange soon.\u201d Wyatt\u2019s eyes squinted as he tried to adjust his eyesight. \u201cThe hell is that?\u201d Lloyd strained to see, then echoed, \u201cThe hell\u2026?\u201d A young girl<\/p>\n

Continue readingFall 2025 Winners – WritersWeekly 24-hr Short Story Contest.<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2299,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[452,453],"tags":[507,394,458,508],"class_list":["post-2298","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-essays","category-short-stories","tag-contest","tag-flash-fiction","tag-short-stories","tag-spooky-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2298","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2298"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2298\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2306,"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2298\/revisions\/2306"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2299"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2298"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2298"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kel.zone\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2298"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}