<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<rss version="2.0"
	xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"
	xmlns:wfw="http://wellformedweb.org/CommentAPI/"
	xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"
	xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"
	xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/"
	xmlns:slash="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/slash/"
	xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:geo="http://www.w3.org/2003/01/geo/wgs84_pos#" xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/"
	>

<channel>
	<title>Just a Moment &#187; Drama</title>
	<atom:link href="http://heatherhindle.ca/category/drama/feed/" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
	<link>http://heatherhindle.ca</link>
	<description>—Turning inward</description>
	<lastBuildDate>Tue, 21 Jun 2011 02:06:32 +0000</lastBuildDate>
	<language>en</language>
	<sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod>
	<sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency>
	<generator>http://wordpress.com/</generator>
<cloud domain='heatherhindle.ca' port='80' path='/?rsscloud=notify' registerProcedure='' protocol='http-post' />
<image>
		<url>http://s2.wp.com/i/buttonw-com.png</url>
		<title>Just a Moment &#187; Drama</title>
		<link>http://heatherhindle.ca</link>
	</image>
	<atom:link rel="search" type="application/opensearchdescription+xml" href="http://heatherhindle.ca/osd.xml" title="Just a Moment" />
	<atom:link rel='hub' href='http://heatherhindle.ca/?pushpress=hub'/>
		<item>
		<title>Re-beginning</title>
		<link>http://heatherhindle.ca/2008/07/04/re-beginning/</link>
		<comments>http://heatherhindle.ca/2008/07/04/re-beginning/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 05 Jul 2008 01:18:49 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writesome</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Drama]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://writesome.wordpress.com/?p=375</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[She clung to those words, believing they meant what she heard, what she dreamed of for so long. Fear lapped her. Was she the first to experience this anquish-laced joy? For years, every song, every note reminded her of that dream she held too tightly. A dream now too habitual for reality to ever sustain.<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=heatherhindle.ca&#038;blog=782691&#038;post=375&#038;subd=writesome&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://heatherhindle.ca/2008/07/04/re-beginning/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>1</slash:comments>
	
		<media:content url="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/a213ceef83ebd015af3cdf5120dd7f4e?s=96&#38;d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D96&#38;r=R" medium="image">
			<media:title type="html">writesome</media:title>
		</media:content>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Coming in from the storm</title>
		<link>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/11/03/coming-in-from-the-storm/</link>
		<comments>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/11/03/coming-in-from-the-storm/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 17:49:06 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writesome</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Drama]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://writesome.wordpress.com/2007/11/03/coming-in-from-the-storm/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Water splattered against the window and lapped away the grime from years of neglect. Wind massaged the surface, leaving only remnants of the past. Nature&#8217;s housekeeper struggled to scrub away the pain and sorrow, fighting against the dry, fallen leaves empty of their life force. The synonomy was apparent as she stood there inviting the wind [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=heatherhindle.ca&#038;blog=782691&#038;post=252&#038;subd=writesome&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/11/03/coming-in-from-the-storm/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
	
		<media:content url="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/a213ceef83ebd015af3cdf5120dd7f4e?s=96&#38;d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D96&#38;r=R" medium="image">
			<media:title type="html">writesome</media:title>
		</media:content>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Light</title>
		<link>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/09/04/light/</link>
		<comments>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/09/04/light/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 04 Sep 2007 16:40:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writesome</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Drama]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://writesome.wordpress.com/2007/09/04/light/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[She sat in the middle of the group and let the tears flow. It&#8217;s all I&#8217;ve ever wanted and it never came to pass. Her guidance gently reminded her. Did you truly want it or did you just love wanting it? The universe doesn&#8217;t understand ambiguity. Her heart raced. The guidance was clear. I&#8217;m not sure, [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=heatherhindle.ca&#038;blog=782691&#038;post=188&#038;subd=writesome&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/09/04/light/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
	
		<media:content url="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/a213ceef83ebd015af3cdf5120dd7f4e?s=96&#38;d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D96&#38;r=R" medium="image">
			<media:title type="html">writesome</media:title>
		</media:content>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Dashing in the wind</title>
		<link>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/08/29/dashing-in-the-wind/</link>
		<comments>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/08/29/dashing-in-the-wind/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 30 Aug 2007 02:37:03 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writesome</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Drama]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://writesome.wordpress.com/2007/08/29/dashing-in-the-wind/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[He scoured the landscape, searching for the forgotten, tossed-aside item he held so tightly just moments before. How could he be so careless? He missed it now, like the tide misses the moon. If only he hadn&#8217;t staggered and looked the other way, he would still be holding his prize. The wind danced through the [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=heatherhindle.ca&#038;blog=782691&#038;post=183&#038;subd=writesome&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/08/29/dashing-in-the-wind/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
	
		<media:content url="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/a213ceef83ebd015af3cdf5120dd7f4e?s=96&#38;d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D96&#38;r=R" medium="image">
			<media:title type="html">writesome</media:title>
		</media:content>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Misplaced</title>
		<link>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/04/03/misplaced/</link>
		<comments>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/04/03/misplaced/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 04 Apr 2007 02:22:56 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writesome</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Drama]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://writesome.wordpress.com/2007/04/03/misplaced/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The sweet aroma of biscuits filled her bedroom. She dressed quickly and rushed downstairs. Her uncombed hair fell loosely around her shoulders and matts of blond curls stood straight up in the back. &#8220;Good morning,&#8221; said a sweet frail voice. &#8220;Biscuits smell good Nan, are they ready?&#8221; she asked. &#8220;Right after your hair is combed dear and you [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=heatherhindle.ca&#038;blog=782691&#038;post=81&#038;subd=writesome&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/04/03/misplaced/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
	
		<media:content url="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/a213ceef83ebd015af3cdf5120dd7f4e?s=96&#38;d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D96&#38;r=R" medium="image">
			<media:title type="html">writesome</media:title>
		</media:content>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Chilling</title>
		<link>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/03/31/chilling/</link>
		<comments>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/03/31/chilling/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 31 Mar 2007 18:49:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writesome</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Drama]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://writesome.wordpress.com/2007/03/31/chilling/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Clean shaven with short hair, he looked young and straight. Attempts at small talk received only grunts, or silence with narrowing stares. He felt like a cop in a crack house. Making his way to the back of the room, he saw a familiar face. &#8220;I know you,&#8221; said a young-looking woman with a broad smile. &#8220;What are you doing here?&#8221; she asked. [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=heatherhindle.ca&#038;blog=782691&#038;post=75&#038;subd=writesome&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/03/31/chilling/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
	
		<media:content url="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/a213ceef83ebd015af3cdf5120dd7f4e?s=96&#38;d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D96&#38;r=R" medium="image">
			<media:title type="html">writesome</media:title>
		</media:content>
	</item>
		<item>
		<title>Lumps in the sand</title>
		<link>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/03/26/lumps-in-the-sand/</link>
		<comments>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/03/26/lumps-in-the-sand/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 27 Mar 2007 01:18:24 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>writesome</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Drama]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://writesome.wordpress.com/2007/03/26/lumps-in-the-sand/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The night was too dark for a full moon. The world seemed unfamiliar. Her mind was unable to reason, her eyes unable to focus. Her bare feet were planted squarely in the sand, up to her ankles. Her cold bare shoulders shivered, her neck stiffened. She was afraid, she was confused. Suddenly a loving presence formed a cocoon around her.  [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=heatherhindle.ca&#038;blog=782691&#038;post=64&#038;subd=writesome&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
		<wfw:commentRss>http://heatherhindle.ca/2007/03/26/lumps-in-the-sand/feed/</wfw:commentRss>
		<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
	
		<media:content url="http://0.gravatar.com/avatar/a213ceef83ebd015af3cdf5120dd7f4e?s=96&#38;d=http%3A%2F%2F0.gravatar.com%2Favatar%2Fad516503a11cd5ca435acc9bb6523536%3Fs%3D96&#38;r=R" medium="image">
			<media:title type="html">writesome</media:title>
		</media:content>
	</item>
	</channel>
</rss>
