Author Matthew Heneghan

Most fairy tales begin with: Once upon a time. And the modern iteration of fairy tales are much less cautionary, and more that of fantastical. The hero always wins. The princess becomes the queen and so on. The reality is that these tales are much darker than their current replications.…

I was sitting uncomfortably within one of the chairs of the hotel lobby. My body, sore and lamenting beneath my skin. I look presentable enough, sure. I demand this of myself most days. I suppose one could argue that my dress and deportment are the lasting vestiges of my time…

It felt as though I had just been kicked in the stomach by an angry mule. The causation of this dissatisfying feeling was not born from anything sinister nor purposeful. In fact, it was quite the innocuous encounter that sparked this whole thing off… I was stood at the register,…

This world can be woefully unfair at times. Cruel, even. For example: I don’t know why I’m here, and they’re not. Why the universe decided to take the wonderful and leave the wretched behind. Now, upon reading that, you may have the impulse to rush to my defense and exculpate…

In my dream, I am helpless against it. No matter how hard I try, the pull of a flawlessly pained memory is set too deep. I am doomed to relive, revisit and reexperience all of it. And that’s what I do. My pleas of protest fall silent, just as they…

The morning began with the monotony of any other; waking from beneath a weighted veil of fatigue as provided to me by a restless slumber. My eyes remain heavy and burdened from last nights horror show. A show perniciously played out from behind closed eyes—nightmares. As I lay on my…

There is a chaos to sound. And when played back within the peaks and valleys of one’s auricle, that sound can become even more lawless and fitful. I am not talking about a rock concert or an auto-show. I’m not talking about the muted haze that lingers after having danced…

It sits beneath the surface of my skin like the rumble before an earthquake. Beads of sweat are jostled around like pebbles on restless soil. It’s been there for so long that I can no longer recall its inception. It’s been both an ally and a curse. But there it…

I do not like large crowds. It’s been that way for a while. There are likely a myriad of different reasons and justifications for this. But instead of boring you with copious anecdotal monologues, I will share with you one reason that motivates my disdain for the hoards. But please…

I was asked a rather pointed question today; a friend of mine asked me why I choose to go on dates but refuse to date any one specific person? The answer is as simple as it is complicated. I spend a lot of time seeing and remembering the awful things.…