Here are some samples of Beda's prose work.

Prose Publications

  • Chameleon Collection of short stories – Iron Press
  • Commissioned story - National short story day 2010
  • Winner Mslexia short story competition 2009
  • Short-listed crime fiction Literary and Philosophical Society 2007
  • 2nd Prize Biscuit publishing ‘flash fiction’ competition 2007
  • Highly commended and published Biscuit anthology 2006
  • Short listed Asham short story competition 2006
  • Short-listed Asham Short story competition 2005
  • Novel short-listed Lit Idol national competition 2004
  • Short-listed Fish publishing annual short story competition 2003
  • Story highly commended and published Biscuit 2002
  • Short-listed writer of the year Writers inc 2001/02
  • Short-listed Asham short story competition 2000
  • Short-listed (two stories) Fish short story competition 2000
  • Commended and publication Alpha to Omega competition 2000
  • Chameleon

    Chameleon is a collection of twelve stories from the winner of the 2009 Mslexia International Short Story Competition, which annually attracts thousands of entries. In the tradition of fairytales, the stories sharply observe the human condition, good and bad, villainous and heroic, with a satisfying twist in each tale. Chameleon includes tales about the vivid intensity of a child’s imagination, the confusion of adolescent love, and the darker side of human nature. Domestic familiarity is made colourful in stories both imaginative and comic. This is an endearing, emotionally wide-ranging collection.

    Chameleon is published by Iron Press at £8.00


    by Beda Higgins. A National Short Story Day Commission

    ‘Christ look at the state. I mean does the company get a bonus for employing them?’

    ‘To think our Cheryl applied for the job and was turned down.’
    ‘I know and she’s lovely your Cheryl, answers the phone nice and always looks fab.’
    ‘And look at her, the dog’s dinner. Important innit first impressions.’

    Tania glanced over at Julie and Susan, they sniffed her smile away, they always did. Wearily she picked up her purse and went to the snack bar. Down the stairs she heard the clickity clack of Susan and Julie’s shoes behind her, they’d linked arms laughing, ignoring her as usual.

    Tania sat alone in the park feeding crusts to the ducks, the bread was old and stale. She’d been in her last year of law school when war broke out. As an asylum seeker her qualifications weren’t worth the paper they were written on, she’d landed this office job because she was quick, efficient; and very cheap.

    The next day Susan sauntered up to Tania’s desk, ‘I’m having a flat warming party on Saturday, d ’you want to come?’ She waited tapping her foot, sucking a fingernail.

    ‘I’d love to, thank you,’ said Tania trying to make her accent sound less foreign.



    by Beda Higgins. First published in Mslexia

    I get the bus to school so does my thick brother, we disown each other once we step out of the house, I go upstairs, he goes down, we keep it that way. Sharon gets on at Blackpool tower, my Dad says she’s a bad influence, but she’s a good laugh, and I don’t get much of that at home. Mum tried to split us up at the beginning of term by asking the teachers to separate us, but we drifted back together on the wrong side of bad, no one seemed to notice. We sit at the back of class being bored. If you’re at the very back of class the teachers lay off. They only consider bothering about you if you’re second row from the back. The back is damnation to NVQs, almost special needs. Their eyes glaze over, they can’t be arsed.

    I have to change my shoes on the bus upstairs. I’ve bought some four inch platforms out of my own money, Mum refused to buy them but I don’t care if they wreck my back, I look a babe. The first day I wore them Mister Mason yelled ‘Do not wear them to school again.’ So I have the pleasure of my platforms for the bus journey, but then have to do a flamingo impression jiggling on one leg while I change into plimsolls at the school gate. I keep them in my bag because the poxy prefects get their kicks dobbing me in.