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		<title>Silent_S C R I P T | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/silent_scripture</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Silent_S C R I P T</description>
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		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
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			<title>Untitled</title>
			<description>Was just in a mood.
A vent writing I suppose...</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/silent_scripture/1320159/</link>
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			<title>The Day After</title>
			<description>Did the prompt with a friend of mine, based around characters we created together. Short scene of how the other is reacting the day after the other has died tragically.</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/silent_scripture/1253148/</link>
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			<title>Prologue</title>
			<description>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;The world was bright and warm; I could feelthe sun warming my skin as I lay there. I choked on the air in my lungs as myhand pawed uselessly at my shirt, trying to undo the buttons at my neck. I let..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/silent_scripture/1166163/</link>
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			<title>Traveler</title>
			<description></description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/silent_scripture/1166162/</link>
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			<title>Emma</title>
			<description>A young girl sits in a darkly painted room, seated on ametal chair with various coloring pages and crayons littering the metal tabletop. When compared to the room the small child is like a beacon of light. Herskin is fair, still unkissed by the harsh sun, and her long hair falls in softgolde..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/silent_scripture/1113244/</link>
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			<title>Prologue</title>
			<description>Jess stirred, woken up by thesubtle sensation of something cool and moist trailing down her forehead. Whenshe moved her head her chin brushed lightly against a firm surface. It took hera moment to realize that her head did not rest upon the ground but instead ithad grazed her own dirt staine..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/silent_scripture/1112817/</link>
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			<title>Otherworld</title>
			<description></description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/silent_scripture/1112795/</link>
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			<title>Untitled</title>
			<description>I wrote a poem onceThen I wrote it twiceAfter the fifth timeI knew nothing wouldsuffice&amp;nbsp;They told me it wasawfulBut wouldn&amp;rsquo;t tell mewhyI couldn&amp;rsquo;t dare believethemAnd see my passion die&amp;nbsp;Over and over I pleadedJust to know wha..</description>
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			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/silent_scripture/1111973/</link>
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