Newcastle Herald 2019 Short Story Competition: Readers' choice voting and the complete list of finalists

The winning entry will be announced on January 26.

Entering writers chose to take inspiration for their entry from one of six photos published here.

Cast your vote in this years readers choice category below.

Voting closes at noon on Friday, January 25.

KNOCK NINE TIMES by Jessie Ansons

A man came over dressed in oily overalls. The man wiped his hands on a rag and tucked the end of it back in his pocket. He held out a weathered hand, fingernails worn down through hard work. He was one of the men who had dragged him out of the pub. Joeys my name. The two men shook hands. Get yourself together and Ill show you around.

NEVER ABOUT FISHING by Bruce Jones

The fishing outings were not about the fish, which was just as well. Fish very rarely spoilt our day by being caught. If the odd suicidal bream did end up in the boat, then usually it would be thrown back anyway.

JUST ASK A WOMAN by Julie Robinson

When the kiddies got older, of course, they could go outside and play in the streets. Thats what they all did back then. Marbles. Cricket. Come school holidays and weekends and youd never see them. They were probably up to goodness-knows-what over at Throsby Creek or in the Styx or something.

VOICE OF THE UNHEARD by Danielle Stroinec

The other workers didnt mutter a word as they passed me. They just silently left the premises in a manner that seemed heavier and harder than when they entered that morning.

STEEL by Dianne Bowes

Bloody hell Margaret! Watch what youre doing you stupid girl! Pop roared, his grimy hand lashing out at her. Get to buggery!

DAY WITH MR MURPHY by Ross Telfer

When Grant inherited the launch, an old Towns-built clinker rowboat with a low, ply cabin, he moored it near the trawlers at Stockton. On Monday Id drop off a jam tin at Mo Stones fish shop at Boolaroo. On Friday, Id collect the mullet gut for bait. Wed go in on the Newcastle train then get the ferry across to Stockton.

TO THE END OF TOWN by James Turvey

Sometimes I like to take a walk by myself in the evening and stroll by all the pretty houses, sneaking looks up their hallways in summer or admiring the amber glow of cosiness in their frosted windows in winter.

PARADISE FORGED by Justin Hamilton

Ludwig watched him carefully. The efficient, dark figure stood tall, motionless, meditative. A gentle blue vapour rose from behind his silhouette, a camp off in the immediate distance.

GONE FISHING by Mark Konik

Gary thumbed through the paper and got to the form guide. He found the listed harness races at Maitland for tonight and went to race three where their horse, Krakows Girl, was in her fourth start.

THE TASK by Adam Green

Thomas took a deep breath, shouldered his workbag and strode forward, full of determination and nervous energy, trying not to think too deeply about the Message or the Task. Dreams were for the innocent and humanity no longer had that luxury.

WASHING DAY by Pam Garfoot

The cool wind made her shiver in her wet apron and work-day frock as she stood at the line with the spun clothes. A good breeze on washing day had once been gratifying.

GINO by Edward Bassingthwaighte

Ginos work clothes, three shifts in and heavy with coal, iron ore dust and sweat, shrouded his small, wiry body. A hard hat lay abandoned upturned at his feet. His battered steel cap boots untied as if he was ready to undress.

MAYFIELD by Kelli Hawkins

Sweat itched Jacobs bushranger beard and trickled from under his felt fedora. Hed had the beard for six months but still didnt feel like a true hipster. Plus, he couldnt banish the niggling idea that his fedora might already be passé. Perhaps vintage tortoiseshell glasses would be better?

YESTERDAYS MAN by Brenda Proudfoot

Margie and me, weve got plans. For years, shes dreamt of taking me home to England, and showing me the sights of London, where she spent her first few years. Itll be the trip of a lifetime, sailing on one of those ocean liners. Imagine us lined up on the deck like royalty. Shell be in her best hat and gloves, waving; Ill throw streamers to the girls.

HOOKED AT BIG HARRYS by Bill Kearsey

Moments before both men had been sitting in a comfortable silence aboard Jenny, named after Clives better half, on the south arm of the Hunter River. Jonesy had been sitting quietly, unable to stop thinking (worrying) about what was happening at work lost deep in the recesses of his own mind.

MOVING ON by Ann Davey

She found herself flushing, caught mooning over a man not her husband. Her Catholic conscience again. Always for you Ted. Take a pew. Ted lowered his considerable bulk into her cracked leather armchair. She often held her breath when he visited her. The chair groaned as he settled. One day he wont be able to get out of it. It took a great effort to not offer to assist. She was no longer a religious woman but she had great respect for this man who mentored the men and women here.

THE FURNACE MAN by Rhonda Mackey

Bob cant help smiling when he thinks about the kid, who in fairness, was only weeks into his apprenticeship at the plant when Bob put him to the test, asking him to fetch a left-hand hammer and a long weight.

CATACOMB OF STEEL by Dianne Hill

Off to another building, the blond surfer introduced himself as Dennis. He shook his hand and tilted his head to prompt Leo to supply him with his name. Leo clumsily introduced himself. The young men were then supplied with uniforms, boots, safety goggles and helmets and split into groups.

LIFE GOT GOOD by Natalie Parsons-Clair

They turned sharply onto gravel. Bush closed in tightly around them. Driving along, sometimes they saw small shelters usually rusty. Kev realised these were camping blocks. Hope rose as the thought of getting one crossed his mind. But hope had a short fuse. They couldnt afford anything.

CITY WITHIN A CITY by Sandra Prior

Bruce liked the quietness he found in the unbroken noise of the machines during dog shift. Occasionally he could catch a nap if the boss wasn't around. Those were the good shifts. Tonight had not been one of those nights.

TIME IN THE WORLD by Janice Bisson

This would be his last chance to stand closer than normal without protective gear. The ginger hairs on his forearms appeared to shrivel, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and ran down his cheeks. He stared into the inferno, saw sprites, imaginary birds and animals in the bright light, heard their cry in a cascade of sparks and felt strangely exhilarated.

THINGS WE DESERVE by Niko Campbell-Ellis

Some days, we hung around town until we heard the shift change whistle at the plant. Wed lace our fingers together and race against the trudging tide of workers so Alec could be home before his mum. I asked him about that, I wanted to know what shed do if he was late. Would she hit you?

LINES OF STEEL by Phillip Williams

The laws are different now. You have to wear a helmet or you get fined. And everyone wears cycling gear. Its what you do when you ride a bike.

HOME GAME by Kaye Leighton

It was over one of those shared pots that Des suggested it: Were not in England anymore, Moz, and I for one wont be going back. Its time we found a team to support here.