All posts by Matthew Hartwell

No Thumbnail

The Hunting Party

Jagermeister Jagermeister’s birthday only came once a year, reliably around the end of December. His mother, a young woman from the proud beachfront of New Jersey, had either really hated him or really loved anise-flavored liquers; he wasn’t quite sure which. His father, a muscle-bound

No Thumbnail

Summer Afternoons When Everyone’s Away

The changing colors gave way to the colder winds, and the infant-fruit grew its yearly fat-slick to ward off the chill. Later in life, these winter-babies would be predisposed towards redder complexions, deposits of lipogen and fitful melancholy. The babes picked in Summer were often

No Thumbnail

The Devil In The Garden

We always called you the devil in the garden. To clarify, we called you “the devil in the garden.” We didn’t just call you “the devil” while in the garden. I can see how that would be confusing. If it’d been Mom, we would have

No Thumbnail

The King In Country

The silent sentinel was perched upon his pedestal of rock with no apparent way of having gotten up, or any easy plan for getting down. It was as if a great flood had torn away all the land around him, leaving him, as the saying

No Thumbnail

Blue Skies and White Snow

The snow was evidence they were in for a hard reset. The machines wound down every couple of cycles, and you had to turn them off for a few days while they cooled. Spring, Summer, Fall, Summer, Spring, Summer, Fall, and occasionally, Winter. Bouncing back

No Thumbnail

Meat

It was important to cut against the grain to make sure every bite was tender. He had let the meat rest. For several days, actually. Eating fresh meat sounds good, but really isn’t ideal. You want some breakdown. Some decay. Let the microorganisms start the