There is something about English woodland. Real English woodland, I mean. Not that close-bound, imported Scandi stuff.
I don’t want to be that person who marvels at lonely clouds or tries to catch falling snowflakes, but there is always something happening in every square inch of the forest, from the macro down to the micro. There is the beauty of the overlapping leaves – the razored alders, the elegant crab-apples, the waxen oaks. Then there are the sounds – branches shifting above him, furred bows rubbing against bark strings and a subtle, tenor groan from some ageing monolith deeper in the copse.
There is not a person for miles around – not likely to be anytime soon, either. And if there was, what would they hear? Nothing but the flora shifting and bristling around them. What would they smell? The scent of mulch and movement and woody decay. What might they see? Why, nothing but the undulating, tree stump-scattered forest floor. Nothing but woodlouse-infested boughs, leaf-strewn loose soil, hillocks of non-descript earth.
There will always be something happening in the forest, even after I’ve thrown the spade in the back of the van, brushed the soil from my hands, and driven back along the dry, pitted road.
Thanks for reading folks. Recent short stories include ‘Drip, Drip, Drip‘ and ‘The Worst Part‘.
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.
I love how this twists from the quite beautiful and serene to the dark and menacing. Great piece, Matthew.
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Thanks Chris – it took a bit of a turn!
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a terrific piece, Matthew, situating the reader fully in the environs: this has a freshness and a zip that the last two sets of haiku needed; I felt I was there ; the opening itself burst forth with a sui generis voice —
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Oh excellent, Matthew! All very fine until those last few words… and then the spade and the van. Super!
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Another forest digger.
Here’s hoping he buried treasure, and not a dead body.
You saved the plot twist for the last line. Well done, Matthew.
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Thanks David. It’s left in the liminal space, but i have my doubts about him 😉
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Hmmmm. A philosophical narrator with a fine eye for details. Then the single pronoun–“him”–changes everything. Menace has become your quiet calling card, Matthew. So well done!!
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Quiet menace is what I try and deal in Annie!
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And you do it so well, Matthew!
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Good stuff, my twisted humor pictures the flies swarming over the freshly turn earth.
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Ooh that might have been a nice touch in there as well! Thanks Christopher!
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Great ‘tail ending’ Matthew. Beautifully penned. Happy Writing Days My Friend..
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Thanks Goff!
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