Evenings are stretching long here in Scotland; a couple of haiku to suit…

Light
Those summer evenings
of adolescence. Time and
light, stretched like taffy.
Continue reading “Light and Lilac | Haiku”Stories in Golddust Magazine, Literally Stories, Idle Ink, Writer's Egg, CafeLit, McStorytellers, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Down in the Dirt, Close to the Bone, Shooter, Soft Cartel, Fiction Junkies, and Heavenly Flower Publishing
Evenings are stretching long here in Scotland; a couple of haiku to suit…

Light
Those summer evenings
of adolescence. Time and
light, stretched like taffy.
Continue reading “Light and Lilac | Haiku”No-one was quite sure what the lampman’s purpose was. They knew that he appeared on still nights when the fog swept up from the Avon and slicked the dark cobblestones. They knew that he was looking for someone or something, but his purpose? No-one could come up with a plausible explanation.
It was not as though the man was shy. His buckled boots sounded loud against the worn stone, and he was unabashed in leaning close in to the shop fronts and the street level windows, cupping his hands around his eyes to avoid his own reflection. A moment’s searching, and then moving on, the flame of his cruisie lamp guttering with his movement.
Continue reading “His the Night | Short Story”Hopefully a still, summer vibe in today’s haiku…

Long
Skeins of mist thrown long
over hillock and deep dell.
A summer dawn’s veil.
Continue reading “Long and Languorous | Haiku”Twelve cans beans.
Ditto lentils.
Twenty bags assorted grains.
Enough powdered milk to choke a donkey.
And then the jumble sale – the canned vegetables, the fruits, the canned meats. She sometimes thinks that it is the world’s worst tombola. They are brought forwards, these tin, flush against the edge of the steel shelves. Everything in its place.
There is a comforting airlessness down here. A silence. Everything is in its place. Everything counted, stacked against some half-imagined Event which would send them down here.
Continue reading “Twelve Cans Beans | Short Story”I’m taking advantage of some hot weather to post a couple of summery haiku…

Fierce
A fierce morning light –
slanting, oblique, river-borne.
Liquid, winding gold.
Continue reading “Fierce and Flummer | Haiku”As I mentioned recently, for the past couple of years I’ve been working away on the first draft of a novel (working title ‘Detox).
It will be a literary thriller set on the island of Eilean Mor in the Flannan Isles, which is about as far flung a place as you can get in the UK. One of the narrative threads that I’m weaving through the novel is the famous disappearance of three lighthouse keepers (James Ducat, Thomas Marshall, and Donald McArthur) in 1900 from the lighthouse. No trace of the men has ever been discovered, despite Northern Lighthouse Board (NLB) regulations stating that one man had to stay in the building at all times.
The mystery gave me the excuse to travel through to the National Records of Scotland search rooms in Edinburgh, which holds documents going back as far as the twelfth century. Pre-booking is essential, as many of the more delicate books need to be brought out of storage.
Continue reading “Detox | Writing News”Dear Ronald,
I have had the opportunity to read your submission – an opportunity I wish I had not availed myself of.
As you will no doubt be aware, flash fiction is a flexible format which authors have used in a near-limitless number of ways to tell stories. I suppose your piece meets this criteria, although it was flash fiction to me in the sense that it left the imprint of your hackneyed spelling and of a grammatical smorgasbord of dunderheadedness imprinted on the insides of my eyelids.
As for structure? I can only assume that something happened to your submission between your posting it and the document arriving in my hands. Some intra-dimensional event perhaps? Maybe it was torn apart by rabid, foam-flecked Alsatians before being hurriedly pasted back together by a well-meaning postal worker with an acute visual impairment.
Continue reading “Feedback | Short Story”We’re moving from the log burner into the still spring air with a couple of haiku…

Silver
The soft salt-blue flame
waxing weak underneath damp
silver birch kindling.
Continue reading “Silver and Skein | Haiku”It’s always nice to be able to share a piece of good news…
I attended the Scottish Association of Writers 2026 Conference last weekend, and was delighted to receive second place in the Constable Silver Stag competition for the general novel, judged by the fantastic Anne Hamilton.
‘Detox’, a novel I’ve been working on for some time, is pencilled in for being complete in early 2027, and it was fantastic to get some positive feedback on the draft and to know what I need to go and work on. The elevator pitch is as follows:
Abandoned and starving at a remote therapeutic lighthouse retreat, Becca must uncover the awful truth of her captivity before fear and betrayal tear her fellow survivors apart.
I shall keep working away at the drafts, but it was nice to hear that I might be on the right track in the meantime.
Thanks for reading folks. Recent short stories include ‘Shift‘ and ‘The End of the Day‘.
Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, Down in the Dirt, and Shooter magazine. He has a Professional Doctorate in Education. Matthew blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com.
Two haiku born from tectonic movement today…

Glacial
Glacial margins,
heaving landscapes. No borders,
gridded dry stone walls.
Continue reading “Glacial and Gush | Haiku”