The 88,000

A beautiful story written by one of the brave people who helped fight the fire to save our homes. We cannot thank you enough.

~ LethalBeauty

As I begin to write this, I sit 30,000 feet in the air above the empty city of Fort McMurray. A place where for the past week my boots have been on the ground fighting the most merciless and unrelenting fire I will likely ever see for the rest of my career as a fire […]



Written November 6th 2014.

She layed in bed, staring at the ceiling, her body silent and still; her mind on the other hand was racing, tossing and turning, fumbling over and over as if in a nightmare. But, she wasn’t asleep and this wasn’t a nightmarish dream; this was reality and she was fully aware of it. 

Each day was the same, going through the motions, her body zombie-like, emorionless and stiff. Her routine unchanging; wake up, go for a run, shower, study, get ready and occasionally, go out. But it didn’t matter to her if she ever left the house. It didn’t make a difference to the never ending marathon her mind was running. There was no stopping it, it didn’t make a difference what she did.

Thinking back, it was hard to remember a time when it wasn’t like this. A time when she was simply content. Even worse, she couldn’t remember the time she allowed herself to feel. All she could recall was that it became too much and she turned numb, a comfortable painless numb. 

In her mind, there was no point in going back; because when she could feel, all she felt was sadness. Though she didn’t remember much, the memory of the sadness never left her. It managed to stay neatly tucked away in the back of her mind as if in filing cabinets, along with all the other memories of why she did this to herself. Why she turned numb.

Sitting on her bed, she turned to look at the mirror beside her. Staring into her almost soulless eyes, recalling a time when they were filled with tears almost daily. Then, very softly whispered, it’s better this way.

Happy reading lovelies,

~Lethal Beauty

Tuesday, May Third, 2016

Three days ago my family and I, and the rest of our town were evacuated. Half of us sent out North to the site camps and half of us South, towards Edmonton, Lac La Biche, ect.
This is my story, how it felt, how I feel now, what I seen and what I know. Continue reading

Broken Road

A story I wrote on April 12 2010. I was thirteen years old and only just started writing short stories.

Life as I see it is like a road that never ends and one where you can’t turn around, you can’t go back to fix things. No matter how much you want to or how hard you try, you simply must keep going and learn to live with the mistakes you’ve made. Continue reading