‘October Nineteenth’ by Kirsty Campbell

Opening Night

From Pulp Literature Issue 49, we now present an excerpt from the winner of the 2025 Hummingbird Flash Fiction Prize, ‘October Nineteenth’ by Kirsty Campbell. To read this story in full, be sure to pick up a copy of Issue 49, Winter 2026.

Selected by Finnian Burnett, the Hummingbird’s final judge praised this story, saying, “This gorgeous story was strong on voice. I was invested in the main character by the end of the second line. And the story built in a natural way, the main character felt genuine, and the way the author interspersed the text messages from friends and family felt real and engaging.”

For those hoping to catch the eye of our talented judge as well, this year’s Hummingbird Flash Fiction Prize is now open to entries. You can find all of the details here.

October Nineteenth

by Kirsty Campbell

Author’s note: ‘October Nineteenth’ was written to remember Romane Bonnier, 24 years of age, a beautiful rising star and a victim of femicide in Montréal on October 19, 2021.

Nine thirty? No way. She squints at the phone. Yup, that’s not a six. Or a three, which was totally a possibility. Thank the lord. Opening night will be much better after a full night’s sleep.

She snuggles into her pillow and reads her messages. Merde! from G, who wishes they could be there tonight. Dad’s heading to Costco later for cheese and wants to know what else to bring for the after-party. Don’t forget that everyone is bringing snacks, she texts back. Her parents always overdo it, but that is what makes them wonderful. She lingers over B’s string of good-morning messages and sends him a selfie from her pillow. Then she takes a few more. Panic face. Not me having opening night jitters! she posts on Instagram. Her sister’s heart, as usual, is the first to appear.

F says you should rest on a performance day. Save your energy for the show. But she’s actually feeling the jitters now, after faking it for insta. It’s still resting if you do a quick run for croissants, right? She throws on her sweats and her long fall scarf. On the table by the door, beside the bowl for keys, B has left a bouquet of flowers. How did he manage to do that before work? Awwwwww, she texts him. She can’t stop smiling. She is so lucky.

When she gets back from Première Moisson, she watches Love is Blind until she feels like she might be too chill to perform later. Then she goes through the score, one last time, to make sure she nails her entrances.

At three pm, J texts. The stage manager is losing it. They can’t find her costume for the banquet scene. She texts back reminding J about the last-minute alterations.

Sounds like it’s already crazy at the theatre. It’s the first time the Segal has staged Titanique, which means they could probably use an extra pair of hands. She knows she should keep resting, but J is so sweet; it’s not right that she has to handle all this stress herself. She showers and heads out.

Time flies at the theatre. The sound check goes fine. She doesn’t unleash everything she’s got because she needs to save something for those Celine Dion high notes. She wants her first time in a leading role to really blow everyone away.

There are a zillion messages waiting on her phone. A meme from W of Kate Winslet telling Jack there’s only room for a cat on her raft. You were born to play Rose. She snorts. Her sister texts to say they’re in the third row, is that ok? Wherever you are, she texts back, I’ll find you, don’t worry. Seeing her sister that close in the audience will ground her if the nerves get to her. Then A sends a heartfelt message, and all of a sudden she’s tearing up, just as P is about to do her mascara. Playing Rose is her destiny, says A, with a stream of starry-eyed emojis.

Everyone is so psyched to see her play Rose. She can’t believe she’s getting such a big break, like, three years after graduation. It’s unreal.

Then it’s showtime. The house lights dim, the whispers fade to silence, and the music begins. The stage manager smiles and opens the curtain. She walks on stage.

Find the full story in Pulp Literature Issue 49, Winter 2026

Have a winning story to share? The 2026 Hummingbird Flash Fiction Prize is now open to entries! Find the guidelines and our entry form here.

Kirsty Campbell is a writer, singer, and teacher. Her story ‘Howl Rising’ was published online by Swords & Sorcery Magazine. Kirsty’s folk song albums, Coming Home, In Pieces, and an eponymous EP, are on Spotify. She teaches courses on fantasy, science fiction, and fairy tale narratives at John Abbott College in Montréal. Visit her at www.kirstycampbell.ca.