Author: Matthew J. Richardson

Words in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Fiction Junkies, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, CafeLit, Best Microfiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, Idle Ink, and Shooter.

The Promise | Book Review

The Promise

Damon Galgut

293 pages

ISBN: 9781784744069

£16.99

Penguin Random House

Hardback

Review

Salome has served the Swart family for years. A Black South African, she has seen to the needs of Rachael, her husband Manie, and raised the couple’s three children – Anton, Astrid, and Amor. As Salome tends to a dying Rachael, the white matriarch of the family, she is promised her own house and plot of land on the Swart farm. Years pass, and Rachael’s spoken promise rests with one family member after another. South Africa, though, is a country coming to terms with Apartheid. Old promises are broken whilst new ones are made, and the word of a dying woman is blown away on the winds of change.

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Wean’s Crabbit | Short Story

Wean’s crabbit. Wee pudge-balled fists fleein’ every which way, from side a crib to gummy mooth, scrunched eye socket to ma maw’s knitted blankit. Slevers and tears smeared across those ragin’-red cheeks.

Teethin’ sae he is. Ma pinky gaes in for a sook, but it’s naw what he’s wahntin’. That foot in the onesie’s fair workin’ as well, fat wee knee shudderin’ wi’ ev’ry stomp.

Liftin’ him oot his crib, the blenkit near enough comes wi’ him. The wean turns, mouths, but yeh’ve nae luck son – yer da’s got nothin’ for you. Sook all ye want. Aye, cry then, wee man, scream the hoose down. Wake the dug, the neighbours, a’body, why not? Fat lot of good it’ll dae ye.

We’re stuck here together, ye and me baith, son, in the box room before break a day, each as much use te yun another as tits on a bull.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Image courtesy of Doug8888 on Flickr. My recent short stories include ‘Frost and Fight’ and ‘The Dead Don’t Moan’.

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

Frost and Fight | Short Story

Dirty mattress and discarded clothing on an urban street

There’s no tradition here, no mistletoe or icing the cake. Frost does however come right through my mattress, through three fleeces and two jackets.

Warmth comes in cups – lentil today. The volunteers have bloodshot eyes and worn chatter. They’re smiling, and fighting.

Fighting against more than just a cold wind.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Image courtesy of Flickr. My recent short stories include ‘In the Ribboned Fog‘ and ‘The Dead Don’t Moan’.

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

In the Ribboned Fog | Poetry

A leaf covered in hoar frost

In the ribboned fog of a February daybreak, dog barks stilt strangely in the dank air. Hoar frost clings to raw-fingered branches and to the tortured holly. What leaves are left from autumn’s mulch sit skeleton and crisp, drifted in between tree roots or huddled at the entrances to abandoned setts. Clouds scud over the lightening sky, looking upon their skulking brethren clinging to the dells and corries below. A time for paperboys and farmers, milk floats and commuters huddled bitter at some rural bus stop. The sensible stay put – the foxes in their underground fugues, the hares in frozen, clod-circled forms.

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The Dead Don’t Moan | Short Story

The dead don’t moan.

Dirt-packed and clod-mouthed, they stare silent at earthen skies.

Rain gutters down the slate tiles and the stained-glass windows. It bubbles down into the drain gratings, down through the salt-leached soil. down amongst the dead, where it sits brackish black and silent in the cheapening pine boxes.

Yew roots curl around the sleeping dead, whose wayward ivory pates are held soft in wooden elbow crooks and bark fingers. The shifts and shivers of the topmost branches do not trouble the subterranean silence.

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Curlews and Cows | Ayr Writers

One of the best aspects of being a member of Ayr Writers is the variety of outside speakers we have in our programme. Writers are by their nature storytellers, and we’ve had some fantastic yarns spun to us in my time as a member.

Some of the most interesting talks have come from (to my mind at least) unusual sources. We’ve had workshops on writing song lyrics and publishing via Mills and Boon, both of which taught me things about writing of which I was previously ignorant.

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Heave and Harry | Haiku

Morning folks,

a couple of blustery haiku today, as Autumn has well and truly arrived…

Heave

Heaving, hissing trees

Writhe and cling on to their leaves

Early Autumn winds.

Read more: Heave and Harry | Haiku

Harry

Mackerel sky skates

Over hill and into dell

Gleam harried by gust.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Images courtesy of Rawpixel and Wikipedia. My recent short stories include ‘Cooks Matches, Lentils, and Sofa Stuffing‘ and ‘Snatched‘.

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

Cook’s Matches, Lentils, and Sofa Stuffing | Short Story

A yellow box of cook's brand matches, lying open on a white background

Siren’s wail and loudspeaker’s bark are dampened as Adam closes the door against the night. One, two, three padlocks go on. Two deadbolts scrape across the pitted iron of the doorframe. The smell of the flat welcomes him home – mildew and rusty water.

Adam lights a candle using the box of Cook’s matches. A man at the food line had told him that, pound-for-pound, matches were now worth more than gold. The expectation had been that Adam would have been impressed, or even disbelieving, but who had use for gold anymore?

The candle is placed atop the cardboard box that serves as a table, and Adam uses its guttering light to place plywood over kitchenette and bedroom windows. It doesn’t stop the wind whistling through the blown insulation, but it might persuade the after-darkers to move on to the next house. The next target.

A guttering candle on a dark background

A dinner of cold lentils, soaked all day, is eaten. Adam’s eyes never leave the guttering, tremulous flame. The wax is cheap. It runs down the sides of the candle and pools, translucent, on the cardboard. The candle occasionally pops and fizzes as it burns, like fireworks.

Adam glances covetously at the book he is halfway through, but he knows he cannot spare the wax. Licking the tips of his thumb and forefinger, he pauses, and then pinches the flame out. The lumpen, darken shapes that he knows so well immediately rush into the grey. The sofa, stuffing removed to supplement his duvet. The bank of bottled water that has to last until spring. The squat radio in the corner – his one link with what now passes for civilisation. Adam only switches on at 5pm Sunday for the emergency broadcast.

It was alright, he thought, picking a lentil from between his teeth. The Prime Minister’s budget would get people working again.

*Thanks for reading, folks. Images courtesy of Flickr and Wikipedia. My recent short stories include ‘Snatched‘ and ‘A Kind of Magic‘.

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