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Airtight…
Emma knew that by pushing ‘the’ button, all sorts of hell would ensue. There’d be no turning back. Not now, not ever. But what were their options? None, that’s what. Zero, zip, zilch … that’s what! They were literally at wits end, and this was their only option. At least they had planned and prepared,…
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Tribe … Soul Family
She chose her tribe … with whom she’d roam, Her family, her people, her home. Earth Angel, Rainbow Child … Love … personified, Perfectly imperfect My daughter, my teacher Healer … Warrior Conduit
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Mindfulness in Blogging

Starting a blog was going to be a type of catharsis for me. I envisioned feeling a great sense of release … have I? Yes, on some levels yes. There is a great sense of personal achievement, and an appreciation that I’ve been able to ‘get my act together’ enough to have the time and…
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My purpose… need to write… but is it really enough? Am I really enough?
I always thought that I needed to write my story. You know the memoir that would set the literary world ablaze, catapulting me into the stratosphere of published authors. Ok, settle down. You can’t blame a girl for dreaming, even if the dreams are grandiose and bordering on the ridiculous. So this girls’ got to…
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So Lost …
The phone’s shrill call echoed throughout the empty house, evoking a sense of dread. Its incessant ring mirroring Peter’s dark thoughts, “how long had he been trapped in this hell-hole”. He was desperate to get back home, to find the long-forgotten path. He knew it was there, he knew the portal was still open, somewhere.…
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Getting Away …

The break had done Aurora wonders, from the wide-open roads to the vast star studded-expansive skies, and hot ancient healing waters of the artesian baths. Every inch of her was at ease. Which was quite miraculous, given that only 12 short days ago she’d been a pent-up bundle of nerves ready to implode, or explode…
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My Father’s Hands … Goodbye Dad
I whispered gently into my father’s ear; and as I did, I felt the slow rise and fall of his frail chest. The alien-like rattling sounds of his strained breathing punctuated the air, and with each exhalation a heart-wrenching reminder that he was in the final hours of his life. For three days I hadn’t…
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Fractured reflections of a butterfly …

She stood in front of the mirror; long golden locks sculpted her pretty face. Green eyes brimmed with tears; her brows furrowed in self-contemplation. If only she saw what the mirror saw, a beautiful girl with an inquisitive mind and insatiable appetite for social justice. But she did not; she saw the shattered reflection of…
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And so it is …

I always thought that I needed to write my story. You know the memoir that would set the literary world ablaze, catapulting me into the stratosphere of published authors. Ok, settle down. You can’t blame a girl for dreaming, even if the dreams are grandiose and bordering on the ridiculous. So this girls’ gotta dance…

