http://slow.writerscafe.org/OrvisEd The original writings of author OrvisEd en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776034034 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 When I was a child I was forced to go to church every Sunday, despite my protests of fearing boredom. Our church was merely a small congregation located in a forgotten community that visitors call “The Switzerland of Nova Scotia”. Occasionally, although not often enough in my bo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrvisEd/1277231/ Inhale. “F**k you!” she screamed, slapping his facewith both hands. He returned his anger as he shoved her into the wall. “Hit me again, c’mon! Do it!” he screamedback, stepping forward towards her. He turned away and coughed to clear histhroat of the smo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrvisEd/1277221/ The Graveyard Tour; something I dreaded every year with my family. For some reason my Father thought I needed a 'cultural awakening' about our small town - every year, mind you. It was the same tour, every year: how the French and the Brits fought for decades until finally some Acadians were ex.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrvisEd/1275275/ Zombies ruin fifteen year-old Sophie's social life. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrvisEd/1275274/ Chapter 3Lost & FoundThe hot sun was beating down on my body as Karleyand I lay out on the white sand of Westport beach, which was the only goodbeach on the island. I could hear the Ocean waves lapping against the shore,the laughs and screams of children, and seagulls making their presence.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrvisEd/1272719/ Chapter 2SanctumI ran on a familiar path through the woods behindAbe’s house toward the Basalt Shoreline, my place of escape from everything, whichwas encompassed by the Gulf of Maine. Westport wasn’t a massive town, housingless than two thousand residences and was the second islan.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrvisEd/1272717/ Chapter 1RageAll I could see was blood. All I could taste wasblood.  Touching the back of my throbbinghead to feel the dampness in my hair, I spat out the metallic taste, and triedto ignore the ringing in my ears. “Get up! I’m not done with you yet, girl!” heshouted.Es.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrvisEd/1272715/ "Forgive and forget; that's what he told me. How could I forgive the person who stole my life, let alone forget?" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/OrvisEd/1272714/