Hello! Thank you for viewing issue 6 here. Issue 6 marks the coming of Spring for Meditating Cat Zine, heralding more verdant sights and hopefully warmer weather. Issue 6 opens with The Chocolate Tabby by Nayana Rodriguez, a piece detailing her experience rescuing a tabby cat, which reminds us of how Curios first entered a home. Next are five poems by Lavínia Vianini, skillfully written with unique language. Before the interlude comes Gratia Serpento's My Brother Doesn't Remember Me. Gratia was also a featured writer in Issue 3 of Meditating Cat Zine. Issue 6's interlude is comprised of Young Greg by Alayn Kirk and Wolpertinger Waffles by Noll Griffin, each fantastical art pieces that are sure to pique curiosity. Finally, issue 6 ends with Gloomy Sandbag Baby, Gone To Seed, and In Black by Sophia Lucia Menendian . Enjoy your read! Link to download: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1JeZiDHR9FD7HvxRBCcYQOej02nXkj-T1/view?usp=sharing Best, Curios & the Meditating Cat Zine team Contributors: Nayana Rodriguez Lavínia Vianini Liew Chooi Chin Marjan Safiyari Holden Flosi Gratia Serpento Alayn Kirk Noll Griffin Sophia Lucia Menendian
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by Daniel Moreschi Although the sea is pulled by lunar reins, Its servile ebbs conceal the subtle strides Of a fateful force, once nature’s patience wanes, That tests its tether with unruly tides. Where frozen hills are stoked by metal fumes, It brings a rhythmic ruse of turbulent grace, As thriving swirls are topped by sprightly spumes That lead a charge, when growing flows retrace. And while humanity ignores the signs Of ominous plights, as billows belch and roar, A steep caress erodes the coastal lines And razes borders, like a siege of war. Uprisings of tsunamis stirs the straits Once swells attain the sways of ancient scales And wayward spans cascade at mankind’s gates Where a ceaseless song of simmered spite prevails. When swept-up crowds are pleading for an ark And lands are swallowed by the famished surge, The moonlit sanctuaries turn to dark To undulate the chains of Gaia’s purge. Daniel Moreschi is a poet from Neath, South Wales, UK. After life was turned upside down by his ongoing battle with severe M.E., he rediscovered his passion for poetry that had been dormant since his teenage years. Writing has served as a distraction from his struggles ever since. Daniel has been acclaimed by many poetry competitions, including the annual ones hosted by the Oliver Goldsmith Literature Festival, Wine Country Writers Festival, Short Stories Unlimited, Michigan Poetry Society, Westmoreland Arts & Heritage Festival, Ohio Poetry Day, and Inchicore Ledwidge Society. Daniel has also had poetry published by The Society of Classical Poets, and The Black Cat Poetry Press.
by William Falo My sister Chloe stood before me, as real as any person, but after a car accident, she was in a coma and not expected to survive. She touched my arm and said to not worry and then vanished. How could it be her unless she was already dead? Now I worried more, and I had to find her. I lived near a funeral home. It was the one they would use for my sister when she died, and I snuck into it while the mortician was in another room. He didn’t seem to hear me as I walked around. I saw some papers on a desk, and in the darkness, I swore I saw my name on a paper. Hannah. It was a plan for a funeral. Why would they plan my funeral? They had to have mixed up my name with my sisters; still, it scared me. I backed up, and a face appeared in the window. I started to panic, then recognized it as Kyle, a kid I knew in high school. His brother died in a car accident, so maybe he was going through what I was with my sister. I waved to him. “Hannah, you’re a ghost,” he yelled and ran away. I needed more answers, and I knew where to go. The Witches Well. There was a story long ago that when some children got sick, they blamed a witch and threw her in a well behind a farm with a red silo. Supposedly, she cursed it, and whoever fell into it would live forever as a ghost. The red silo loomed over me like a haunted castle. I saw a girl who committed suicide at the well a few years ago. Her name was Melody. “How are you here?” I asked. “I left a note for my ashes to be dropped in the well. I heard the story about the witch and hoped it was true.” “And it is, I see.” “Yes, but I am so lonely. I am so sorry for what I did. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t jump; I would find a way to live. My parents were so sad.” Melody wiped her eyes. “They were crushed and blamed themselves.” She looked down. “It wasn’t their fault, but they will never forgive themselves.” “I’m sorry.” I reached out for her but stopped right before I touched her. “Wait, how do I see you?” “I don’t know, but maybe it's because you are in shock. Anyway, I’m happy you can.” I was in shock and not feeling good. My knees buckled, and I grasped onto the side of the well to steady myself. I blacked out. ### I woke up and saw Chloe looking down at me. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wish I saw that car coming.” It all rushed back to me so fast that I felt nauseous. I was in the car; I saw one coming toward me, and a bright flash filled my eyes. Chloe was leaning over me. She was crying. “Please make them cremate me, bring the ashes to the Croft Farm, and drop them into the well behind the red silo. Promise me.” It took all my strength to say it. “Please.” She nodded. “I will.” I heard crying, then darkness. ### I woke up at the well and saw Melody looking at me. “Hello,” she said. “Welcome to the afterlife.” I looked into the well and strained to see my ashes. “They’re in there. I saw your sister come here and drop them into the well. She was crying. It was sad, and I think she blames herself.” “How did I come here before?” “Before I died, I read about people in a coma who traveled to other places in their minds and actually appeared to a few people while in the coma. That must have happened to you and enabled you to see me. You were in a place between life and death.” “I have to go see my sister. Will she see me?” I asked. “I think so. I think love enables us to see those who passed away for a short time.” “Come with me.” “Okay.” We passed kids playing in a yard with a dog. I stopped. I would never have a dog; I always wanted to get one when I had my own house. It hurt even in the afterlife. I would never have kids, or a husband, go on a trip across the country or world, or even read a book or write one. I lost everything. I cried ghost tears. Melody stood in front of me. “I know,” she said. “Well, maybe I can save my sister from such pain.” “Did you ever go see your parents?” “Yes, but it's really sad.” I touched Chloe’s arm, and she jumped up in a panic and then rubbed her eyes. She saw me. “Hannah?” “Don’t worry. It wasn’t your fault.” “I’m so sorry.” “Stop. I’m happy, I’m not alone, and you can come to the well when you want to see me.” I kissed her head, and she closed her eyes. “Take care of mom, too,” I said. She nodded then her eyes closed. Back at the well, the crows were cawing. “There seems to be more of them.” “They are the souls of the dead that are lonely, the ones that aren’t missed, so they gather here and in other places, so they are not alone.” A few cats approached us, and when I reached out, one of them threatened to scratch me before it rubbed against my hand and purred. “It can see and feel us,” I said. “Yes, cats can see ghosts.” “I always knew they were otherwordly,” I said. “Mysterious.” “I agree.” Molly petted one of the cats too.” “I name this one Spooky. It seems to like me.” The ferals stayed nearby, and that made me happy. Melody pointed down the trail. “Here comes that boy you like.” “Kyle?” “Yep, he’s lonely. Maybe he is going to jump into the well.” “Or I might push him in, and he could be with me forever.” “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” “No, of course not, but I might scare him.” For the first time, I saw a smile on Melody’s face. William Falo lives with his family, including a papillon named Dax. His stories have been published or are forthcoming in various literary journals. He can be found on Twitter @williamfalo and Instagram @william.falo
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Photos used under Creative Commons from France1978, JarleR, Raed Mansour, Ruben Holthuijsen, L a r a -