Author Archives: Matthew. S. Wilson

I lift my head from the barn’s straw-covered floor. A muddy pair of boots step around my goats, and the suit of bells rattles down upon the ground. ‘The king wants his jester.’ I don’t say a word; they took my tongue many years ago. I simply undress and pull on my second skin. TheContinue reading “The Last Laugh.”

I’d never imagined living in an attic. Frank was the only one to come up here – twice a year to fetch and return the Christmas lights. Like everything else, he stopped doing that the year I died. Frank simply sunk deeper into his couch, unable to hear or see me, irrespective of how manyContinue reading “Wallflower.”

‘Coming, Tim?’ I logged off and followed my colleagues out of the office; attending company social events inadvertently influenced our bonuses. The downstairs function room of the nearby pub reeked of beer and despair; like a fallen tree, its scratched tables could be aged by the rings staining their surfaces. The only person happy toContinue reading “Woozy Bankers.”