<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[RSS Feed]]></title><description><![CDATA[RSS Feed]]></description><link>https://ecency.com</link><image><url>https://ecency.com/logo512.png</url><title>RSS Feed</title><link>https://ecency.com</link></image><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Mon, 10 Aug 2026 21:42:38 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://ecency.com/@chrisallen/rss" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[Grandma (Flash Fiction)]]></title><description><![CDATA[Grandma “Grandma, It’s me Jason.” With a much more aged voice than what I remember she questioned my greeting at her front door. “Who? Jason who? Speak up dear, I have a hard time hearing.” She continued]]></description><link>https://ecency.com/@chrisallen/grandma-flash-fiction</link><guid isPermaLink="true">https://ecency.com/@chrisallen/grandma-flash-fiction</guid><category><![CDATA[grandma]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[chrisallen]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 20 Aug 2022 23:48:42 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[PTSD]]></title><description><![CDATA[PTSD (photo credit to flicker.com) If the lack of rem were not the cause to my mayhem, maybe I could be happy once again. Instead, I drag my feet and grit my teeth, my true sorrow forever sheathed. I laugh]]></description><link>https://ecency.com/@chrisallen/ptsd-rgmx2r</link><guid isPermaLink="true">https://ecency.com/@chrisallen/ptsd-rgmx2r</guid><category><![CDATA[ptsd]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[chrisallen]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 15 Aug 2022 02:18:27 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://i.ecency.com/p/7DceLgR4szFxQ3W67zsXFwrt3AvvioMbSLWZaAJ8ZzKjBA2pu7zjqzJtgfFRyQyFZUAv673Hm6iMLTHBCBZBc?format=match&amp;mode=fit" length="0" type="false"/></item></channel></rss>