“Hey, Donald!”The boy stomped his foot. “My name’s Peter!”“You look like Donald Duck!” The other boy howled with laughter. The boy sitting next to him chimed in with his own devious cackle.It was a daily ritual for Peter, running the gauntlet past Kevin. All he wanted to do was sit down in a seat and
The two-lane ribbon of highway ran the length of the coast. On one side, the land rose up abruptly as the foothills of the coastal range. On the other, the earth dropped away to end in precipitous bluffs on the edge of the North American continent. A hundred years before, massive redwoods trees had crowded
I need to remind myself that writing consistently doesn’t require the subject matter to be an existential threat or some dire social crisis. Sometimes, it can be about squirrels. Yes, squirrels. Those cute little buggers who eat pine cones and make cute little chittering noises when they’re angry. The fuzzy, fluffy-tailed braggarts who will, in
I can’t tell you how angry I am. I’m angry, disappointed, disillusioned, and sad. I’m scared for our future and for the future my children will have to deal with. And I’m angry On November 5, 2024, America elected a convicted felon, a fascist, and a low-intelligence buffoon. I will never give Donald Trump the
Winterset Hollow by Jonathan Edward Durham At some point, we’ve all fallen in love with a story involving talking animals. Either The Velveteen Rabbit, The Wind in the Willows, or even Alice in Wonderland has impacted our lives with its variety of talking animals. Winterset Hollow by Jonathan Edward Durham continues the fine tradition of
T-1 day. To quote my favorite leather-jacketed, baseball bat-wielding antihero, it’s a big day. Today is my last day at North Coast Brewing Company. I never thought I would work there as long as I have; it was a job when I needed a job. It’s a world class company that makes a world class
T-2 days. Apparently, people like fantastical poems about rats. I’m not saying I’m achieving Mr. Beast status with it, but there was some love for the Rat Warrior. Maybe I should write a ballad about a naughty kitty monk and his forbidden love for a river otter. I might have sold the Honda. Guy is
Originally published in the April 2019 issue of The Scramasaex, the Shire of Ravenshore’s newsletter Beneath the dark depths of an ancient keepA façade near impregnable to allToiled the valkyric norvegicusIn mistrusted work by tooth and gall One by one the sisters crept intoThe night, driven by hungry stomaches’ growlInto the home of the twisted
T-3 days. Still no Mickey. I really hadn’t anticipated that this would be a “Mickey watch” blog. I was more looking forward to writing through some anxiety, some excitement, and a touch of grief related to moving away from the town I’ve lived in for 22 years. I didn’t think I would have to write
T-4 days. Mickey still hasn’t shown up. At least it’s not the freezing temperatures that it had been a few nights ago, but all the same, he’s an older cat with thyroid issues. It doesn’t stop him from hunting, though. He’s fully capable of hunting down his meals, even missing a tooth. I’m still holding
Matt Reviews Books 