Joseph "Mark" Coughlin
Bio
Mark has been writing short stories since the early 1990s. His short story "The Antique" was published in the Con*Stellation newsletter in 1992. His short story "Seconds To Live" was broadcast in the Sundial Writing Contest in 1994.
Stories (36)
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Revenge Of The Words
I used to be a pilot. I flew missions in World War Two, dammit. Later, I flew for a major airline. Then I served in the police department in Los Angeles. That got me into my lifelong love for writing. Scripts, mostly. I was not too shabby. You might have seen some of my work. But that was so long ago. So very long ago. Now? Let's just say I'm not the man I used to be. Things have changed so much since those heady days of early television. Back then the best writing in my estimation had something important to say. We wrote morality plays disguised as space opera. It mattered then. Our takes on our world slipped past the network execs because we set it in the far future. My greatest achievement was almost derailed by the executives because they thought my script was too smart for the twelve year old mind. So, I rewrote it and kept the original pilot within. It got on the air, and the moral still stood. Things have changed so much. Even my own profession has seen such transformations that I hardly recognize what people are writing now.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlin2 months ago in Futurism
Kirk
A few weeks ago, I found out by chance that you had passed away three years ago. It came as a bit of a shock, as I had fully expected one day to run into you at the store or something. More surprising was that I had never found you on social media, even though when we first met (yeah, forty years plus ago) we were both studying computers at the community college. I had fully expected by the 2020s that you would have jumped onto the tech bandwagon.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlin9 months ago in Confessions
On The Fifth Day
I had retired to a secluded cabin that sat neatly uphill from a private lake, getting away from the noise of the city. Even with it being winter, I needed the quiet of the country. After settling in, I did my best to unwind and eventually fell into a long, fitful sleep.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlinabout a year ago in Fiction
The Kisser
“Is this really necessary?” the young nurse asked in a muffled radio voice. The doctor looked over, his brows furrowed. “Absolutely. Her... condition... has such a powerful effect on those around her that we have to take the greatest precautions. Even females such as yourself are not immune to the Effect.” The nurse seemed hesitant to advance, but the doctor assured her they had prepared well. The two reached nearly to the end of the long white hallway, when they heard a plaintive voice come from the last cell.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlinabout a year ago in Fiction
Here
I lie here, a thin layer of dust between me and eternal peace. I want to scream at anyone or anything that passes my way, but I no longer have the means. Coyotes stole that part of me long ago. As another seething hot day gives way to chill of night, my hopes of rest go unanswered. Time becomes viscous, a morass I cannot escape. I beg to be freed, freed at last from this arid hellscape, but what parts remain will not work. I wait impatiently for that moment of discovery, the moment I am uncovered, the moment justice is served.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlin2 years ago in Fiction
The Antique (2024)
Author's Note: This will be an experiment in memory and writer's development. The original story was written 31 years ago, and I will be re-writing it from memory. After I submit this story, I will dig out the original 1992 manuscript and transcribe it for submission on Vocal.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlin2 years ago in Fiction
Part-Time Lover. Top Story - January 2024.
In response to your request, I have begun to contemplate the progress made since my arrival on this platform, and what the forthcoming year portends in relation to my own goals. The process of reflection brings me back to the ups and downs of story writing, the creative process that challenges me to dig a bit deeper, drive my vocabulary to expand, find new ways to forge vague, nebulous ideas into something relatable or at least entertaining. And then there is the raison d'etre
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlin2 years ago in Journal
The Purpura Nubes
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. The soft glow within tinged every wisp that passed by as the cumuli fascinated all who witnessed them, as they have since the dawn of human history. We have always been curious to the nature of these phenomena, as they seem to have a purpose unknown to us. The Romans called them purpura nubes, some claiming them to being homes to lesser gods. Some societies treated them as omens, and even built entire religions around them. The clouds seemed to defy conventional skyward behaviors, often keeping station when other clouds rushed along, storms raging. Sometimes they scooted into position, often near to events that proved momentous in the annals of history. This led philosophers over the centuries to apply anthropomorphic qualities to the nubes, believing them to be occupied by all manner of creatures, superior to Man or not.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlin3 years ago in Fiction
The Cat Came Back
I have been assisting my mother for the last two years, since the death of her husband of 53 years. Every week, I go to her house, bring her groceries, do some maintenance, take her wherever she needs to go, that sort of thing. Or we might just sit around in the lounge her husband built for her in the 1980s and chat about whatever comes to mind. I've needed this time with her as much as she needs it with me. She has slowed down through the years, enough that it's now a struggle to stand and move about with her fancy stroller thingy. She has soldiered on, through grief and regret and loneliness, even expressing her surprise that she was the one who survived.
By Joseph "Mark" Coughlin3 years ago in Humans
