Monday’s Writers’ Podcast

So we have meetings every other Monday and sometimes I read, along with some other great people in the group.

Here is the podcast from December 12, 2016.

My story (Hypothetical) starts at app. 20:00 and lasts for a couple of minutes.

Here you go

https://www.podomatic.com/podcasts/vancouver-writers/episodes/2016-12-14T21_21_25-08_00

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Unprepared

“Unprepared” is a short story set in West End, Vancouver, shortly after the earthquake we have all been warned is due. Nikkie, who resides on the 25th floor of a West End high-rise, is somehow left behind during the evacuation. With no water or food, and a serious injury, she has to survive long enough to be found by the rescue team. The first draft is out, yay!img6960-1

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A Winter Away

I am now working on a new song with the title “A Winter Away”. Here is some lyrics from it. Enjoy!

img6985When you’re feeling so low and so lonely you won’t face the morning

And you’re down in the dumps and there’s no one to lend you a hand

Did you really think someone would give you directions when you don’t know where you belong

Do you wonder what waits in the end

***

All those people and places you have always taken for granted

All your friends who have gone getting tired of your going round and round

Did you really think someone would give you the answer to questions you don’t know to ask

All those stars I’ve put out  to reach you

Lie dead on the ground

Re:

You’re a winter away

From the songs that I’ll play

From the promises made

All the damage is done

You have lost what you won

I will take all the blame

You’re a winter away…

 

Down Memory Lane

somebody-is-copyDarkness. Pulsating shadows of bright black everywhere. 

Something is wrong. Everything is wrong.

Burning. Burning. How can darkness be so hot? So blood-boiling hot. It hurts your lungs when you breathe it in. 

Flashes of afterimages on your scorched retinas.

Something crackling on your right. Shuffles… a slight movement, far to your left.

Monotonous moans, almost too low to make out.

And as your blood becomes vapor

your skin turns to dry paper

and starts curling inwards like an ancient scroll.

Down Memory Lane…