When the dreaded thing happened, a strange feeling of calm came over her. Yes, they might put her in ICU, surrounded by beeping machines and strangers in hazmat suits. She might end up on a ventilator. Or, worse, she might not.
But she would no longer be completely, utterly alone.
Donald A. Ranard’s writing has appeared in The Atlantic, Every Day Fiction, Flash Fiction Magazine, 100 Word Story, The Washington Post, The Boston Globe, and elsewhere.
To be sitting all alone,
collapsing in on myself,
and teasing at
a candle’s pale flame,
watching it tenderly
lick away the whorl
of my fingerprint.
left behind is
pink and raised
not a burn,
but something softer.
exploding stars know less pain.
Tina Privitera-Reynolds is a young, emerging writer, so be patient. She has had poems published on SpillWords with more publications upcoming. As a beginner in the daunting world of online publication, she is happy to receive any feedback (especially criticism) and helpful tips and tricks. Her biggest goal is to improve.
Some aches, like some days, were worse than others. He swallowed a pill to make himself sunny, but within hours the clouds were back. He practiced his breathing.
Meanwhile, real clouds, gray and big as mountains, bumped against the window. Some kind of wild bird was cawing in the trees.
Bob Thurber is the author of “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” and two collections of stories. A celebrated master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in 60 anthologies, received dozens of awards, and been used in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts where, though legally blind, he continues to write every day. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
I wake up to greet my old friend, Anxiety.
How will I battle his belittlement and negativity today?
“Distressing but not dangerous,” I tell myself, “strive to be average.
Do the things you fear to do and wear the mask of security.
Endorse for every effort, then keep moving forward.”
Margie Nairn wrote this story based on the tools taught by Recovery International.
Marian fumed at Todd for knocking over her juice. A storm marched in above them at school. Marian remembered a joke, and the cloud disappeared.
“Mommy! I can control the weather with my mind,” Marian said.
After extensive psychiatric evaluation, Marian was given medication.
The weather has never been nicer.
Anthony is a writer who loves his family. He works with numbers by day and words by night (or early morning). He is obsessed with his bloodhound, wife, and daughter, and has a love affair with Indian food.
Overweight girls don’t have many dates
My mother told me when I was 15
You might never get married
The diet doctor prescribed appetite-controlling pills
When I was still so hungry
Mother said, “Eat some lettuce”
I knew lettuce wouldn’t fill the emptiness in my stomach,
or in my heart.
Miriam Stein is a social worker, writer, and the author of Make Your Voice Matter With Lawmakers: No Experience Necessary. See more at makeyourvoicematter.com.
Davie survived the Middle East conflicts, where he witnessed the atrocities he thought he had handled.
Returning home, full in body but mentally adrift, he found an unscalable wall around all he had loved. He drifted, with doorways becoming his refuge. He froze to death last winter.
Lest we forget.
Gordon Lysen is a fledgling writer.
Hiding; to function,
Where does the illness end
and I begin?
Where do I begin,
and the illness end?
Blocking, medicating a piece.
A piece of the whole.
Nineteen-fifties medical protocol was shock treatment.
Mother’s psychiatrist put her in the hospital for her “breakdown.” She crocheted socks in the bleak ward.
She couldn’t remember much after her release.
She was never crazy, simply lonely for my wayward father.
He didn’t believe in psychological hocus-pocus.
He left us anyway.
Leslie Sittner has been writing prose and poetry for the last two years hoping to avoid the psych ward. With print stories in the Apple Tree and online work in Silver Birch Press, 101Words, and 50 Word Challenge, she has so far avoided admission.
“Please! Tell me!”
“It’ll be disturbing…”
“Look, I got you out of that place, hid you here, all to find out what you know about me. Not knowing is driving me crazy.”
“John… You’re the one hiding, inside yet another of your scenarios. You’ve lived in this facility twelve years.”
Jennifer L Freed has fun trying to meet the challenge of 50- and 100-word stories. Her poetry and flash have appeared in various on-line and print journals (including 50-Word Stories). Find more at jfreed.weebly.com.