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Some said that Ethan Mathers was one of the smartest men in the world.

He didn’t know if that was true, but there was one thing he was sure about and that was and that was he had the best memory in the world.

He had what many experts called an Eidetic memory, but some thought that it went past that.

His memory was photographic. No detail went unnoticed. But he could also recall every word ever spoken to him or in his presence. It was as though he had a video camera permanently recording.

Because of his prodigious memory…


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“How many days are we going for?” she asked.

“Just two,” I said.

“And how far from civilization will we be?”

“Not that far. The cabin’s out in the woods, and the campsite is about an hour’s hike from there.”

“Sounds pretty far.”

“I assure you it’s not.”

“I still don’t get the appeal of sleeping on the ground and living with the bugs.”

“You will; it’s way better than it sounds.”

“What about bears?”

“We’ll get a picnic basket to distract them.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Oh how wrong you are madam, that was a grade A joke.”

“What about…

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It was drizzling out.

The wet pavement reflected the lights of the building ahead as though he was walking on across broken mirror.

It was as though Mother Nature decided that the setting should reflect the grey mood.

Death walked slowly.

Normally, he went about his business without much delay, but the situation of late made even Death slow down, just a little.

He took no pleasure in his work. It was a necessary thing, to take people to the afterlife, but he didn’t revel in it either.

And some days were harder than others.

But these days he was…

It was a rainy day, the day that I met her.

I remember the raindrops making their way down the shop windows as I walked along the sidewalk. I clutched my collar, holding it close to keep the precipitation out, and to keep the last vestiges of warmth inside my jacket. The jacket was old and worn, and it was already doing an unsatisfactory job keeping the rain at bay; I refused to carry an umbrella. My shoes splashed in the ever-growing menagerie of puddles, and I had to find some respite from the rain. …

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I finished my coffee and tossed the paper cup into the trash. I tugged on the chain around my neck. It had been itching all morning.

“She in there?” I asked the officer.

“Yeah. They just brought her in.”


I opened the door to find the young woman sitting patiently in the chair. I took the seat across from her, tossing my little leather notebook on the table.

“I’m Detective Ford. Miss….er, Simpson right?”

“Yes. Why am I here?” she asked.

“We just have some questions for you. Just routine really.”

“Okay. Did I do something wrong?”

“No. We…

Sometimes when a breakup happens the best thing to do is go out into the wilderness.

Read it here:


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“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”


“Last chance.”

“There is literally nothing I want to do less that spend a week out in the woods.”

“You were going to go originally.”

“We weren’t broken up then.”

“So you never wanted to go?”


“You should have said something.”

“I’m saying something now.”

“Fair enough.”

“Are you still going?”

“Of course there’s twice as much food now. Have fun at work.”

“You’re a jerk sometimes.”

“You’ve said so many times.”

That’s pretty much what I expected when I called. But old habits died hard. …

Sometimes school is the worst place to be.

Read it here:


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Days with a full moon are the hardest.

The hunger is deep, and true and it sits there in your mind like a toothache. It claws at you, all day long. My grandfather told me stories about people driven crazy from the feeling. Moon madness they called it.

I was sitting in class. The teacher’s voice grated. I couldn’t keep listening to lectures about the quadratic formula while there was an aching within me. On the best day, I would hate math class. Today it was nothing less than pure rage within me.

Every inch of my body burned. I…


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So, it’s getting to be that time of year again.

I write a lot of horror. That’s what got me started here and what tends to do well.

Fall is naturally the best time to write horror so I will be ramping up my publishing considerably over the next month and half.

However, I’ve found if I publish to the Inkwell too often the stories tend to cannibalize themselves, so I’m trying to do something different.

What I will be aiming to do is publish at least once in the Inkwell and then self publish to my profile each…

Matthew Donnellon

Matthew Donnellon is a writer, artist, and sit down comedian. He is the author of The Curious Case of Emma Lee and Other Stories.

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