“Bodies in the Basement,” has been voted Non-Poetic Publication of the Year! 

“Bodies in the Basement,” has been voted Non-Poetic Publication of the Year! Spillwords Press, NYC.

Looks like I’ll need to change my blog around a bit. Thanks to Spillwords, and all of you, one of my favorite stories I’ve written, is now an award winner! I’m pumped, joyful, and thankful! I love this! The story was written about a prep-school campus I visited often as a child. We lived just below the campus and many of us snuck onto the campus at night and explored things we shouldn’t have.

I’m thrilled to be among all of the talented participants in the 2019 awards.

View the award PDF here:

Spillwords Press Awards 2020

 

Written by: M. Taggart

 

It was a crisp, damp, October night.
“When we get to the Church I’ll go down first.” Colin was thinking of the moment when both he and Aaron would be standing at the top of the basement stairs peering down into the darkness.
The old stone Church was perched at the top of the largest hill on the prep school’s campus. Colin’s parents were professors at the school and their house was on campus grounds. They’d been waiting for Colin’s parents to fall asleep upstairs. Both boys were comfortable in their sleeping bags on the screened in porch. The lights had been turned out an hour ago and Colin felt it was time to slip into the night.
They unzipped their sleeping bags without noise. Colin gave Aaron an understanding nod of his head. Aaron opened the porch door slowly, so as not to make it squeak. They’d snuck out at night a number of times and both knew the routine.
Once down the porch steps, and into the bushes on the far end of the lawn, they found their beaten down footpath leading to the Church. Crickets were busy sounding off.
“I heard Ben saw the baby in the jar.” Said Aaron.
“He didn’t. He’s just saying he did. Ben would be too afraid to sneak in. He’d never do it. Besides, the doors of the science building are locked at night.”
“They weren’t when we snuck in.”
“That was different. I knew which window to climb through.” Said Colin.
The moon was large. Its brilliant glow could be seen from beneath each cloud. The grass was soaked with mildew; moisture reached out and touched the boys’ jeans. The smell of dirt from the footpath filled their lungs. Each step bringing them nearer to their true intentions; learning if there was a morgue in the basement of the Church. Rumors swirled endlessly amongst them at school. Some said the Church had a morgue and that it was haunted. Others said the Church didn’t have a morgue and that Sunday school classes were held in the basement.
For a brief moment the night sky broke open with moonlight. Colin looked at Aaron and wondered why Aaron was smiling. He could see the dark space between Aaron’s two front teeth.
“Look how fast the clouds are moving,” said Colin.
“I like them. They look crazy. Do you think we can get in?” asked Aaron.
“Yes. They don’t lock the Church.”

 

Read the entire story here:

Bodies In The Basement

Cheers, everyone!

Matt

 

Short Story Published (Horror)

My short story, “Only. Just. Here.” has been published.

I had a blast writing this. I was creeping myself out while listening to noises in a home I didn’t know, while writing the story.  (Link to the book http://bit.ly/2W9IwGu )

The setting: Moosehead Lake, Maine. A couple purchased a home that is nestled into the mountainside overlooking the large lake. Things aren’t as they seem as the story quickens pace and takes the reader on a spine tingling adventure.

I hope you purchase and enjoy the book. The link to purchase is below.

America's Emerging Horror Writers: East Region

Cheers everyone!

Matt

P,S,. Megan and I had just moved into our new house and I had two days to write, edit, and complete a horror story to submit to the publisher. I told the construction crews to stay away from the house on Thursday, and Friday leading to the deadline. I locked myself into my new office and wrote the story.

Short Story Up

Here’s half of the Woah!! News:

My 5,000 word short story, Screaming Hills, has been published by, Z Publishing House, in their America’s Emerging Literary Fiction Writers: Northeast Region, 2019. This is a continuation of the first chapter, which was originally published by Z Publishing House in 2018. This short story is about the reality of every day life and struggles of small town America. Especially the mill town regions of the North East. The story is fiction, but may feel like non-fiction as it contains content concerning drug use, alcohol abuse, depression and anxiety; along with the failed economic structures of these towns. However, the story also drives toward hope and determination to succeed while pushing through the fog, toward personal development and happiness.

I do dive into philosophy and where ideals intersects with humanity. The writing is edgy. I’m surprised and massively thankful they accepted this piece.

My short story is within the “America’s Emerging Literary Fiction Writers: Northeast Region” via the link below.

http://www.zpublishinghouse.com?rfsn=2669705.c7990a

If you enjoy my writing, consider reading this story. It’s possibly only the beginning, of the beginning.

I am beyond excited-

Cheers everyone!

Matt

 

It’s only a matter of time

The most difficult piece of writing I’ve completed sits safely in a digital file. One literary agent replied to me, “I can’t touch this.”

In my opinion, in time, I’ll be contacted by either a publisher, or an agent, wanting to see what words sit within that file. And it won’t be me chasing them.

When that happens, I’ll happily champion their strength.

Cheers everyone.

Matt

-And who knows. Maybe the publisher who just published my short story ‘Screaming Hills’ will be the first to ask about it.

 

‘Screaming Hills’ has been published

Excitedly I’m sharing with you a dream come true. Editors at Z Publishing House have selected and published my short story, Screaming Hills, in their series Massachusetts’s Emerging Writers: An Anthology of Fiction, 2018.

You can find the book here. (You may need to visit my post to view the link below.)

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1724729209/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1533750719&sr=8-1&keywords=Massachusetts%27s+emerging

Cheers everyone.

Matt

 

About:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/m-taggart/

Published Work:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

 

 

I’m Fine – Short Story

Short Story
Fiction
Written by -M. Taggart

I’m Fine

 

His father never called him. And when he called his father, it was generally ignored. If he wanted to see his father he drove to his father’s house and knocked on the door. Sometimes the door wouldn’t open. Other times it would open before he reached the steps. He never knew which father he was going to get. He was never asked inside. His father was too ashamed of the interior of the house. They’d sit on the steps and talk sports. Or about beer. Sometimes they would talk about government corruption and always they talked about humanity. Never, though, did he step inside.

One time he drove to his father’s house to find his father passed out drunk in the driveway. He went to town, bought a six pack of beer, and came back. His father was still passed out in the driveway. He didn’t care. He loved his father as he was. Even if his father didn’t love himself. When his father finally woke, he offered him a beer. It was still cold. His father took it, drank half down, and said “Did you see who they voted in? This isn’t for self desire to love what’s to come, it’s for self duty to be what is!” He wasn’t sure what that meant, but they talked about politics while drinking beer for the next two hours.

A large cloud, shaped like a simple circle, produced shade on the mountainside. He thought it looked nice. He liked how the wind was just strong enough to push the leaves in a continuous hurry. It was easy to watch.

He used a stick to draw a circle in the dirt. He was sitting on a rock just above the water line. The riverbank mud and dirt was spattered with leaves and smelled of organic waste. It was going to get worse before better. He knew this. He wished the getting worse part would go nicely on him the way a mean dog eases up just before biting and instead of biting only shows teeth and raises its fur. Maybe death is like that. Maybe you only feel bad for a small amount of time, and then you’re free. He drew an ‘X’ in the circle.

The cloud had moved on and now he thought the mountainside looked bright and alive. He tossed the stick into the river, watched the creation of water rings disperse, and pulled his knees into his body. He felt as though he were hovering just about his body. Looking forward, searching for another kind of shade, he saw double as tears filled his eyes, then saw nothing because he would not blink.

He missed his father. He wished he’d been able to spend more time with him. Now the option of time is gone. He wanted to drive to his father’s house, sit on the steps, and talk. Because talking to his father’s steps is better than not talking at all. And he thought if he ever has a child he’ll sit on those same steps and tell exactly how everything was instead of hiding how it should be.

 

**

Contact:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/contact/

About:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/m-taggart/

Published Work:
https://mtaggartwriter.wordpress.com/my-book/

Flash Fiction – Where’d I put that book..?

I searched for the book I was reading with a feeling of annoyance toward myself for having misplaced it. Found it. Under a pile of useless kiddle. Now that I’ve found it, I no longer want to read it. I stare at the cover with a feeling of annoyance toward myself for having found it. It’s written by a famous author. It’s not good. It doesn’t translate. It’s not relevant. Only the timeless ones can do that. They write content that will give for hundreds of years. Think that’s not possible? One word. Bible.

-M. Taggart

Cheers.

p.s..