Conor Matthews
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Writer. Opinions are my own. https://ko-fi.com/conormatthews
Stories (202)
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The Trees Swallow People: Part 7. Top Story - March 2022.
We can never go out the back ever again; there’s a tree trying to get in. I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone else, but their trees started like mine; unobtrusively invasive. I let Diva out the back for her morning wee. The previous occupants did the back garden up, covering much of the once grassy plot in concrete, opting instead to construct flower beds, a glass house, a shed, and a little scummy pond. Despite this, there it was, a willow oak sapling sprouting out from a ruptured crack in the ground at the bottom of the back.
By Conor Matthews4 years ago in Fiction
War Can’t Make Discrimination Okay
Statistically, you’re never more safe from a violent attack than you are right after a violent attack. The nuance that is often loss is this is only really true for those attacked. Survivors of a terrorist attack are safer, but hate-crimes skyrocket after these events, as though attacking someone is ever justifiable because they had the same skin colour or beliefs of the terrorists in question.
By Conor Matthews4 years ago in The Swamp
War Shouldn’t Only Count When It’s White
When something like the Ukrainian Invasion happens (or Covid, or Trump, or anything really paradigm shifting happens), I’ve learnt I go quiet. I wait, I watch. I’ve learnt I’m the type of person who is suspicious when people who are normally apolitical suddenly have vocal opinions.
By Conor Matthews4 years ago in The Swamp
The Trees Swallow People: Part 6
The fog wasn’t unusual for the time of year. A damp but clear Friday night was perfect for a foggy Saturday. Letting Diva out for a piddle, I could see the neighbouring houses behind a frosted drapery of mist; doll houses under lace. I brought my coffee to the living room and shifted the blinds to barely see further than the driveway. If I had a car, I’d imagine I would only be able to make out the steering wheel in the driver’s seat. Drinking my already cooling cup, I reminded myself to close the backdoor, when I heard Diva call me.
By Conor Matthews4 years ago in Fiction
The Trees Swallow People: Part 5
It was one of the Tuesdays when I would go to the post office down the village when I saw Shepard again. He was standing atop a raised brim of a monument on Main Street, tucked away between a taxi rank, car park, and corner shop, opposite the road, a credit union, and a pub, yet that didn’t stop him from preaching, as he called it. I could hear him raving from down the street, first as incoherent calls, then becoming clearer in its lunacy as I got closer.
By Conor Matthews4 years ago in Fiction
The Trees Swallow People: Part 4
After a few days, they had the pitch taped off. A local club wasn’t impressed. There were other pitches, but GAA lads aren’t known for their sense of rationality. Bitterly, they relinquished. The irony of trying to keep people away from the trees was it only led to more interest in them. People approached the tape, either noticing it in surprise or clearly searching for it, stopping and pointing. Usually, the latter came in groups, setting out together to investigate.
By Conor Matthews4 years ago in Fiction
