The Lamplighter | Short Story

The greasy cobbles make life difficult, and the man spends several seconds ensuring the feet of the ladders have adequate purchase before stepping up. It is not unknown for back-alley scamps to try to knock the ladders out from underneath him but this evening the streets are quiet, the rain from earlier already starting to freeze on the slates.

The well-oiled lamp casing swings open easily, and the hiss of gas seems loud in the silence. The man reaches his pole towards the jet and covers his nose with a handkerchief. It is quite the bouquet – coal gas, tannery piss, and the Thames. A greenish light flares across the cobbles and the blank, grimy windows. It is as though the street is recoiling from the sudden intrusion.

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Shrill and Swell | Haiku

A couple of salt-flecked haiku this morning…

Shrill

Shrill-whistled calling.

Wheeling white, black, and orange –

Oystercatcher’s flight.

Swell

Double-flash…dark.

A paraffin carousel

On Atlantic swell.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Images courtesy of Wikipedia and Chris Downer. My recent short stories include ‘Digging‘ and ‘After‘.


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, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.

Drought and Spate at Upper Glendevon | Poetry

Upper Glendevon Dam

Below,

Water-worn

Dry stone bones,

Loose in rheumy mud gums.

A shepherd’s shieling, uncovered

By humming sun

And streams-stopped-running.

Earthbound pottery ossicles

Litter a river-licked,

Slick loch bottom,

Flanked by Ochil hills

And the bulking hulk

Of Upper Glendevon Dam.

Above,

Bruised cumuli hang ribboned between the hill heads,

Broiling, born amongst corries and high-strewn boulders.

A rumble, and rain films on the moors,

Through suddenly sodden fleece and field,

Flicked and shivered from huddled feathers,

Amidst the peat banks and the tufted grass,

Guttering, gathered in the crooked dykes –

Trickling in earshot but out of sight, and

Rushing underneath the dog-eared booms.

Below,

A rippling, a gathering pour,

A foetal push onto cracked reservoir floor.

At the shieling, moor-cold, alluvial fingers grope between weathered stone joints,

Curling under where eaves once hung.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Image courtesy of Rob Burke. My recent short stories include ‘Digging‘ and ‘After‘.


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, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0.

After | Short Story

The child trudges after her mother in the lengthening hill shadows. No child of her age should trudge; she should gambol, leap, perform clumsy cartwheels, but not this thickset stride, this downtrodden lope.

The older woman does not keep an eye on her daughter as she works – she knows the child will not wander far. As she picks mushrooms in the woods or washes clothes on the flat rocks in the brook, the little girl follows.

Before, chores would have been set to the soundtrack of aimless chatter, of primary school gossip and playground politics. The nearest the child gets to playing now is trailing a stick in the water, watching as the linen billows and gutters in the icy burn. There is mostly silence between them, the silence of shared experiences, of common understanding.

An isolated valley
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Digging | Short Story

Running her finger down the lead-lined bedroom window, Rose feels the protuberant solder. The stained glass distorts her view just so, just as old windows should do. Whilst she loves the feel of the old, single-pained glass, they are beginning to rattle in their frames rather too much. It might be time for replacements before winter – another job for George.

               Rose can see her husband through the oranges, the yellows, and the greens. George is working, as he so often is, in the garden. The cha-cha-cha of a spade through soil reaches to the upper storey of their Tudor pile, and Rose smiles at her husband’s appetite for work. The younger man is almost feverish as he deepens the hole in which he stands. The spot overlooking the pond will be perfect for a weeping willow – it will set the water lilies and statues off wonderfully. With a cast iron bench in place – another job for George – it will be the perfect place to unwind.

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Winnow and Worn | Haiku

Line of flying geese in a v-shape

Morning folks,

A couple of spring/summer haiku for consumption today…

Line of flying geese

Winnow

Geese skein winnowing

Across a low, scudding sky.

Thrumming, northwards-bound.

Worn

Summer putter of

River water gutter and

Foam on smooth worn rock.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Image courtesy of Pxhere and Pxfuel. My recent short stories include ‘Wean’s Crabbit‘ and ‘Property for Sale – Grim-on-Wye’.


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, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0

The Scramble for Stories | Article

Everyone loves a good mystery. Where we used to gather around campfires, now we cluster around flatscreen televisions or curl up with our Kindles. Stories are how we approach liminal spaces within our psyches, with conjecture, narrative, and counter-narrative serving to titillate and inform.

Society’s appetite for stories is so overwhelming that we forget that their retelling is sometimes invasive. During the disappearance of Nicola Bulley near the River Wyre in January 2023, people flocked to the area to take selfies and to carry out their own investigations. Sky and ITV approached Bulley’s family after a body was found, despite their express wish for privacy[1].

It is tempting to link such exploitative behaviour and the prioritisation of story over protagonist to modern mediums such as TikTok and YouTube. However, long before electronic media made communicating a matter of moving our thumbs across mobile phones, stories were shared via word of mouth, over wirelesses, and in print.

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Property for Sale – Grym-on-Wye | Short Story

Corroded metal bolt on an old wooden door

Arryn Road, Grym-on-Wye

£30,000

Flat

1 bedroom

1 bathroom

40 sq. m

Tenure: Freehold

Greys Estate Agents is pleased to present a rarely-available investment opportunity. The property requires substantial renovation and updating. Buyers are advised to take this real estate opportunity at face value. Local newspaper articles often exaggerate, and a professionally-produced home report is available on request.

Property description

The accommodation comprises entrance vestibule, combined kitchen and lounge, bathroom, and bedroom.

Entrance vestibule

Extensive security measures on the front door bely what is now a very safe neighbourhood. Visitors are advised to ignore the smell. The key to the property will be underneath the door mat in the common close. Prospective buyers are asked to show themselves around the flat.

Combined kitchen and lounge

Albeit without modern amenities, the kitchen is surprisingly well appointed. Extensive cupboard space is complimented by an antique double range – unusual for a property this size. The range is in excellent condition, despite having seen much use. There is some damage to the room in the form of carvings in the skirting boards and what appears to be a symbol in faded paint upon the floor. A decorator is needed as a matter of urgency. The room comes appointed with excellent quality blackout blinds and, unusually, sound-proof insulation.

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