Tag Archives: coping

GO ELLIOTT: His Belly Full

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

The steak crackles in the pan, then comes out. In goes the butter, then the mushrooms, psilocybe cubensis. They brown. The steak reenters. Since his wife’s death, John’s appetite has been temperamental. His belly full, he stumbles to bed, blinks… she appears as a whisper… then melts… dripping into eternity.

G. O. Elliott is an emerging writer based in Santa Barbara, CA, where he is the father to two boys and the spouse to a smarter and kinder soul than he. He is a graduate of Columbia University and Syracuse University. When not writing, he enjoys volunteering, going to the beach with his family, and eating tacos.

SHERRI BALE: Overwhelmed

Amusing, Artistic, Submissions, ,

Stop! I can’t take any more. Shut off the television. Turn off the radio. Cancel the newspapers. Delete the apps on your phone. Pull Alexa’s plug. Close the blinds; lock all the doors. Got to bed. Pull the covers over your head.

Set the alarm for three years from now.

Sherri Bale is a retired geneticist, part-time personal trainer, Jack Russell Terrier mom, and writer of fiction as short as 50 words and as long as 90,000. Whatever it takes to tell the story.

NICHOLAS DE MARINO: It Takes a Village

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

The year after Pap-Pap died on Christmas, Dad’s ceramic holiday village expands from under the tree to along the wall. The next year, he peoples and houses the coffee table and end tables. The next, we eat off trays in the living room. I picture Pap-Pap walking the tiny streets.

Nicholas De Marino is a published crackpot. More at nicholasdemarino.blogspot.com.

RON FROMSTEIN: The Needle

Amusing, Submissions, , , ,

The woman in blue flicks the end of the needle, and says “You’re probably not going to even feel it.”

I shut my eyes and breathe.

I squeeze my fist.

I feel it.

“Oops,” she says.

I don’t open my eyes.

It’s not real if you don’t open your eyes.

Ron Fromstein is a largely self-taught writer from Toronto who has also lived in Chicago, New Orleans, Vancouver, and Iceland.

OLENA ZHELDAK: The secrets of a comfortable life in the turbulent times

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

Natural calamities, mass shootings, shelling, blackouts, forced relocation, alien invasion, and Mars colonization are easier to bear if they meet a predetermined schedule. With all your devices fully charged, alarms on, bug-out bag packed, cats fed, and all-inclusive timelines printed, there is plenty of time to enjoy yourself. As scheduled.

Olena Zheldak was born on November 13, 1981, in Ukraine. After February 24, 2022, having personally survived Russia’s full-scale invasion, she wrote and self-published an autobiographical wartime narrative, “From Irpin with L̶o̶v̶e̶ Pain,” and collaborated with the British author Paul White by writing a lead story for his new edition of “Life in the War Zone.” In 2025, her essay, “Life Interrupted. Resumed. Ended.” was published in the 195 Essays Project by 2084.

MICHELLE DINNICK: Back and Forth

Artistic, Submissions, Top Stories, , , , , ,

“Only what I can put in my backpack.”

They ask for their Lego.

I hang a bag from each handle bar… Throws my balance off a little, but I can manage.
I can only make a few more trips before I have to make dinner.
Thank goodness it’s not far.

Michelle Dinnick really enjoys writing micro-fiction, often inspired by personal experience. Sometimes she writes longer pieces as well. She has been published in the Globe and Mail, and Chicken Soup for the Soul; and won several writing and poetry awards. You can find her online at: fiftywordstories.com, commuterlit.com, and femininecollective.com.

DAVID RAE: Echoes

Artistic, Submissions, Top Stories, , ,

Lucky I love the sound of my own voice. Echoing, Echoing, Echoing. Lucky I love the sound of my own voice. Echoing of bare walls. Echoing. Echoing. Echoing. Lucky I love the sound of my own voice. No one listening. Listening. Lucky I. Echoing. Echoing. Lucky me. Lucky

David loves the sound of his own voice, but also the voices of his wife, children and grandchildren.

HARMONY MOONEY: Micro-Biome Homes for the Apocalypse

Artistic, Submissions, , , , ,

I’ll stuff each cloned version of my dog when it dies until the path I walk through my garden becomes littered with the same white terrier. I’ll stare up through the glass dome at the red sky. At my end, the hazmat suits will light my whole world on fire.

Harmony Mooney is a teacher and writer living on the North Coast of California with her husband, two cats, and two dogs.

YASH SEYEDBAGHERI: Things to Clean/Purge

Artistic, Submissions, , ,
  1. Stacks of T-shirts, sweatpants, underwear, yellowed sheets, and loads of Kleenex.

  2. Bottles of Merlot. The steaks Anastasia bought; we planned to cook them for a special dinner.

  3. Anastasia’s lavender blouses, Capris, and sweatpants.

  4. Every invective that rises as I pack her goods into crumbling cardboard boxes.

Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA fiction program. His work has been published in SmokeLong Quarterly, The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, and Ariel Chart, among others.

NATHAN DOYLE: Cicada Summer

Artistic, Submissions, , , ,

They shrilled for seventeen years underground. When they rose that warm June afternoon—dozens, then hundreds—no one listened. So they screamed louder. The town buzzed, trembling like spent paper, then fell still. Forgetting helped. It was better that way. No one noticed the tears crawling down my cheeks, soft as legs.

Nathan Doyle (he/him) is a poet and writer from Boston, MA. He received a Scholastic Silver Key in Poetry and three Honorable Mentions. His work explores silence, survival, and the spaces between perception and memory. His debut poem is forthcoming in Feral Poetry. Find him on Instagram at @geekgumo.