Author Matthew Heneghan

At some point in our lives we have all fallen victim to being cold, wet and hungry. But all of that pales in comparison to being military cold… wet… and hungry. My introduction to this tripod of misery happened in a place called: Farnham. A marshland that’s nestled within the…

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted it. Thirsted for it. At times, even begged for it. In my mind I have seemingly exhausted everything in the pursuit of this endeavour. But everything I have done has been for not—fruitless. Like a ne’re-do-well gambler with no money…

A picture, as defined by Oxford is as follows: A description so vivid or graphic as to suggest a mental image or give an accurate idea of something. It is my belief that those of us who are blessed with sight live our lives through a series of snapshots. Experiences…

“For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow” Ecclesiastes 1:18.   I would not dare to say that I am a wise man. Nor do I boast the gift of intellect. I do however hold knowledge of a few things. Most notably, loss. I…

It was a low-rise shit hole. At least, that’s how we described it. In reality, it was someone’s home. A home I was now standing within. My eyes took in the out of date décor and sparse furniture that casually lay about this place. Decades of old cigarette smoke clung…

Things had been crazy ever since the outbreak. The hours at work had been long and exhaustive. When I got home, I dropped my kit bag and went for the shower. I stood beneath the decalescent beams of water, struggling to cleanse myself of last night’s shift. My arms outstretched,…

Hey, Mum… just figured I’d come chat with you for a while. Kind of having a tough one. ~ Everything I do today is doomed to be weighted and ponderous. Menial tasks from putting the tea bag in the cup, filling it with water, buttering some toast to putting a…

On a modest Spring day, a rural town nestled among the craggy landscape of the Canadian Rockies was beginning to stir. The sky was a brilliant Maya blue. Snow still glazed to the tips of the mountains that overlooked this tranquil place. Birds could be heard singing ubiquitously through bedroom…

With the piercing shatter of a glass, I hear it… A sound that starts from deep within my ears. A roaming crescendo of haunt that becomes so deafening it forces me from bed, plaguing me with a spasm that crawls along my spine. In those first, frightful moments of wakefulness,…