<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Rae CJ | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/Chelsea%20Johnson</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Rae CJ</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776132434</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Lifeless</title>
			<description>The doors locked. The curtains closed. All she could hear was the deeo intakes of his breath. She closed her eyes and wished that she could return to the beach. His heavy footstepsmoved towards her. Had he seen her? Did he know where she was hiding? Sara held her breath. Suddenly, like a change in t..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Chelsea-Johnson/598168/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Don't try this at home</title>
			<description>autobiography</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Chelsea-Johnson/570988/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Olivia Calhoun</title>
			<description>Obituary </description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Chelsea-Johnson/570944/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Life in a Red Dress</title>
			<description>There is a woman in an expensive red dress, and she is crying. Is it out of fear? Joy? Anger? Is she sad, hurt or&amp;nbsp; upset? But then a man steps in front of her and it all becomes clear. &amp;nbsp;6 o'clock rolled around and there he was, waiting at the door for the one person he couldn't live wi..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Chelsea-Johnson/570934/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>My mountain</title>
			<description>A breeze, soft as a kiss as it blows overa creek, that brushes over small stonesthat it tries to hide in it's sweater of trees. You stand tall, reaching high to the sky.Snow tops, remind me,of your age transformingfrom new to old. </description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Chelsea-Johnson/570923/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Battered till broken</title>
			<description>abuse</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Chelsea-Johnson/570759/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Old Metal </title>
			<description>cutting reflection </description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Chelsea-Johnson/570716/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>