Matthew Gilbert
Short story and nonfiction writer with some poetry thrown in the mix.
Matthew Gilbert
Short story and nonfiction writer with some poetry thrown in the mix.
Short story and nonfiction writer with some poetry thrown in the mix.
Short story and nonfiction writer with some poetry thrown in the mix.
To all my friends and family, you are cordially invited to my shindig extravaganza.
The time, place and date are all irrelevant. I can hear you asking hundreds of questions, but please ease your concerns, for it will all become clear in due time. You know me well enough now to understand that my intentions are never clear from the offset and to expect the unexpected.
I assure you, if you are r...
August was two days away, and Santiago was practising his date writing on his computer. Zero, one he typed, then another zero, then … his finger hesitated over the next key, a bead of sweat clung onto Santiago's forehead. He inhaled and closed his eyes. He pushed down the key. The number appeared on the screen, and Santiago opened his eyes, gazing at the two circles. He felt them staring back at h...
A piece of paper floated on the breeze down the street towards its salvation. Derek was walking out of his front door when the paper collided with his leg, sticking to the denim and soaking the material. He tried to kick it free, but after several unsuccessful attempts, he was forced to bend down and separate it from his jeans by hand. He was about to discard the paper, letting it continue its eff...
Justin's body shook as he heard his name being announced. The crowd looked left and right, searching for him, waiting for him to stand and go to the platform.
"Justin? Come on up, sweety pie", the hostess announced again. "We can wait for ever", she placed her hand over her eyebrows to better scan the crown.
The person next to him nudged him twice, "I know it's you You're the only one ...
I sat outside the bungalow throughout the night, with no movement. It wasn't until 6 am that the first light turned on behind stained glass, and 2 minutes later, it was back off. I saw no movement until 11 am when he finally stepped outside. He was wearing black tracksuit bottoms and a Pink Floyd t-shirt. He was still in his slippers, they looked comfortable and expensive, unlike the rest of his a...
“I can’t…” he said.
He looked at his lover through dirty glasses, sweat ridden hairs stuck to their lenses and a crack running across his left eye.
“You can’t what? Why?” He snapped.
“I can’t keep on going like this. Like us. I may be a superhero, but you’re my only weakness” he said.
“Super what?” He said, his face contorting sideways, eyebrows raising, mouth ajar, and a hand scratching t...