Odd Walking Thoughts – Little Blue Boots

She wore her yellow rain jacket with her blue rain boots. She didn’t mind the rain, but her mother would yell at her if she got her clothes too wet. The brook’s banking was muddy and she liked it because she was able to leave impressions with her boots and watch as the rain disturbed her footprints. ‘Maybe I should have been a duck.’ Earlier the young girl had observed a mother duck with her ducklings and watched in awe at how the mother duck quacked and nuzzled her young. When the mother duck started toward the water the ducklings followed. She had felt a sensation brighten within her chest that she’d not felt before. Now though, it was just her and her emptiness watching rain destroy where she’d created another version of self within a few muddy prints. ‘I don’t understand why it’s my fault that I’m hit.’ She leaned against an oak tree and forced the feeling to cry back down her throat. ‘I want to like life, but I don’t know how to make her happy.’

The tree embraced the young girl and said, ‘To decipher manipulation is much like killing yourself slowly and ignoring your knowledge of it. Such is the case when we place a narcissist’s needs into a space of importance. Recently it was demanded of you, by you, to acknowledge what you know to be truth. Soon, it will be time to act, and when you do, this unjust weight will be lifted from you. In time you will have your own ducklings and you will feel your chest brighten to the depths of the heavens. There will be no pity. There will be no, “I’m sorry.” There will only be what you’ve created and you will be loved.’

-M. Taggart
copyright 2018

Chicken Bones

My older brother called him RedSkull
said he’d watch us from the top of the chicken coop
The coop had a feeder shoot
At the top of the feeder shoot was an opening with a hook
My brother said the hook turned red at night and watched us
We’d wait for the sun to go down
sneak from our house
and look for RedSkull
Slowly we’d make our way through the long grass
toward the coop
mostly we didn’t get close
one night thought, one night we went inside
and stepped on dried chicken bones
they snapped under our feet
anything was better than being in our house

-M. Taggart

Odd Walking Thoughts – Beyond Thought

The boy climbed out of his window and onto the large tree and quickly made his way to the ground. He ran to the woods. He needed to sit on his rock overlooking the river. He pushed his small frame as hard and fast as it could carry him. The words were rimming in circles within his mind and now gathering pace toward the tip of his tongue. Not yet. Not yet! You will only speak them first once. Finally, his rock in view, an overwhelming feeling of joy perched in his chest; he reached the top of his rock and lay on his back to catch his breath. Sitting up, viewing the river, he spoke the words which were brimming in circles within his mind and pushing their way to the tip of his tongue- No one had given these words to him and he had never heard anything like them. He opened his mouth, ready to watch them fly, “Can memories live beyond thought?” The tiny hairs stood on his arms. A leaf fluttered slightly more north from the smallest push of air. The leaf landed nearly silently into the river. Having changed the world.

-M. Taggart
copyright 2018

Three Wishes for Grandpa

Written by Matt Taggart aka –M. Taggart

Flash Fiction – A short story about a boy who loves his grandfather.

Copyright 2015 Matt Taggart 12/11/15


Three Wishes for Grandpa


He laid them on the couch cushion while on his knees.  He was small for his age.  He faced the couch and looked as though he were praying.  Twelve of them had a picture of George Washington and one of them had a picture of Alexander Hamilton.  He layered the dollar bills so they overlapped and were perfectly aligned.  He placed the ten dollar bill an inch behind at the end of the row showing its full design.

He liked his collection and needed more.  He knew twenty two dollars was a start but wasn’t nearly enough.  On the floor next to him was his green leather wallet.  It had been given to him.  It was old.  The zipper was broken.  The wallet had a flap that closed over the zipper with two silver buttons that snapped everything in.  The buttons worked so he didn’t care that the zipper did not.  He dug his fingers into the corners of the wallet and found two quarters.  He took them out and placed them on the couch with his paper money.


His grandfather was a large man.  His right leg from his knee down was badly injured.  It was difficult for him to walk though that didn’t stop him from walking or working.  It seemed to him that his grandfather never stopped working and somehow still had time for him.  It was summer time and he had just spent the entire day with him.  He’d watch his grandfather build in his workshop.  He always wore green work pants with a light colored button down and suspenders.  He had massive hands and forearms and he’d ask to please grab the hammer or to please find a piece of wood about so long.  He watched as his grandfather limped.

‘Grandpa, if I had three wishes, I’d first wish to fix your leg.’

‘That’s sweet of you honey.  I love you for saying so.  But, that would take a lot of money.’

‘I have three wishes.  The second wish would be for lots of money.’

His grandfather looked over his shoulder at him.  ‘I did to my leg what it is today.  It isn’t for you to worry about.’

His grandfather had injured his leg while serving in the military overseas.  He was in some kind of conflict he didn’t fully understand.  He knew the story well but didn’t understand why his grandfather would place blame on himself for the injury.

‘I’d still wish to fix your leg and for lots of money to do it.’

‘But why do you wish for those things when you’re so young and you could wish for yourself.  Don’t waste your wishes on me.  I’ve lived well.’

The boy knew the answer to the question.  It was his third wish.  He was unable to speak now though.  Instead he hid his growing tears and walked out of the shop.  Outside it was mild for a summer day with a breeze that helped dry his face.


His brother rushed into the living room to announce he was headed to the ravine and wanted him to come.  ‘What are you staring at that money for?’

‘I wanted to look at it.’

‘Well come with me and let’s look at the brook.’

‘Are you going to fish?’

‘Yea.  Want me to get your pole too?’

‘No.  I’d rather watch you fish.  I’ll be right out.’  His brother turned and walked down the hallway and out the door.  He slid his money back into the old green wallet then he dropped the two quarters in.  The quarters gave him an idea.  He knew how to make more quarters.  He could ask the old man with the woodlot if he’d let him stack the wood after he split it.  Sometimes he’d run over to the old man because he liked to watch the wood splitter.  Then he started to pick the pieces up and stack them for the old man and when he was done he’d give him a quarter.  He’d even given him two quarters a few times. Now, he’d ask if he could work for him a few times a week.  He also combed his mother’s hair for 50 cents before.  She said it helped her to relax.  She gave him 50 cents for a half hour.  If he split the wood and combed his mother’s hair he’d have another dollar.  If he did that a few times a week soon he’d have another ten dollar bill.

He jumped up, put his wallet away, and ran outside to meet his brother who was waiting for him across the street at the top of the ravine with his fishing pole.


He walked back into the shop to find his grandfather exactly where he’d been as though time had stopped and something needed to be finished to start again.

‘Could you bring me that piece of wood over there in the corner?  It’s just about the right size to finish this.’  His grandfather asked.  He was building a bird feeder for his grandmother.

He brought the piece of wood to his grandfather.  He wouldn’t let him have the piece when he reached for it.  Instead he held tightly to it so his grandfather would look at him.

‘I know the answer to your question.’

‘I’ve been waiting to hear it.’

‘I wish that you live forever.’  His third wish was that his grandfather lived forever.  He needed him.



Note: If you enjoyed this you might also enjoy my self published short story found via the amazon link below.  Thank you for taking time to read this.  Matt.

Our Path – Odd Walking Thoughts

There’s a path in back of the old school. We ran to it and slammed into the wood-line and then further. You laughed first and I held mine back. The woods slept while watching. We weren’t sure to leave or stay and then decided to ask a rock. We asked, ‘Would we be alright to stay?’ the rock said nothing. We jumped over the brook and leveled the ferns.  

Why your daughter holds the wrong hand – Odd Walking thoughts

Guys when you’re looking back wondering why your daughter is holding the hand of another man and calling him Daddy also, please see. When you left her mother crying in the bathroom. When she’d asked for you to stay and to talk. When you closed the door and felt the weight lift from your shoulders and felt you’d never seen the steps so clearly. When you slammed your truck door and felt alive again and slammed on the gas and tore from the driveway and left them all. Hindsight is within reach if you see.

Odd Walking Thoughts – Brothers

From one home, to another.  Light ears and Dark ears. Both fought. I’m supposed to what? Here we are- children. We’re looking at a fence, waiting for a cat. One has half an ear. A frog died in the make-shift swimming pool. That was nearly our first home. It’s hard to remember which home was our home. Yet, we both, are expected to produce exceptional happenings. Who’s to hold our fort? It doesn’t matter. I once fell from a tree. We’d built a fort with hammers and nails. I lay, asleep, and there he was, catching me while rocks waited below. Here, I’ll be, for him. Brothers.