<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[Eve_Own_Mine]]></title><description><![CDATA[My Site]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/my-blog</link><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Fri, 02 Oct 2026 00:36:40 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/de/blog-feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[GRACE IN WEAKNESS]]></title><description><![CDATA[The first time I spoke in tongues was on my 30th birthday. If you had asked me how I felt, I would have said I felt untouchable, and not it an arrogant saint way but more of, devil, you can’t end me because now I am sure who I belong to. It couldn’t have been more prophetic. I remember thinking, “I have entered Jesus’ year of ministry.”  That morning, I was on my knees on the floor of my bedroom, unable to speak. Not because I was overwhelmed by His   goodness, but because I didn’t know what...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/grace-in-weakness</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a82a5e5071732fdf9d30eff</guid><pubDate>Mon, 17 Aug 2026 06:45:40 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_129cd21ca8294fcfb9277d513e4a165a~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[DIFFERENT WORLDS, SAME RYTHM]]></title><description><![CDATA[This is a story about two friends, who live different lives, but are able to connect on mutual interests.]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/different-worlds-same-rythm</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a671d43388acffd1e3a57e3</guid><category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category><category><![CDATA[Friendship]]></category><pubDate>Mon, 27 Jul 2026 10:11:13 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_247312fb47714b8ca47473dc867960ad~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[FRIENDSHIP IN FIVE EXCUSES]]></title><description><![CDATA[Five excuses. Different moments. One unforgettable story about friendship.]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/friendship-in-five-excuses</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a550c139049531442d6fa49</guid><category><![CDATA[shortstories]]></category><category><![CDATA[Stories]]></category><category><![CDATA[Reflections]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 19 Jul 2026 15:00:13 GMT</pubDate><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[THE STORIES WE CARRY FOWARD]]></title><description><![CDATA[In the midst of death, what do you really see? When you find yourself standing among those who are grieving, what comes to mind? You feel their pain, your heart aches with them; even when, to be sincere, you did not know the one who has passed away personally. You stand there, holding a hand, offering a hug, and you realize that the only reason you can relate is because at some point in your life, you, too, have tasted grief. You have buried someone who mattered to you, and the memory of that...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/the-stories-we-carry-foward</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a491c760e6d46569498448e</guid><category><![CDATA[Reflections]]></category><category><![CDATA[Death & Grief]]></category><category><![CDATA[Life & Legacy]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 05 Jul 2026 15:00:31 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_cce178cbb9db4851b11dd25dde420a56~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[THE DANCE OF LIFE]]></title><description><![CDATA[Life is a dance of joy pain, hope, and renewal. Step into a story that invites you to see each season with fresh perspective.]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/the-dance-of-life</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a3fae40d3770ea960ed4cc8</guid><category><![CDATA[Reflections]]></category><category><![CDATA[Storytelling]]></category><category><![CDATA[Personal Growth]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 28 Jun 2026 15:00:14 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_5a3d134a50ab4be9967ff0d0236e18ce~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[TO MY FOREVER FRIEND]]></title><description><![CDATA[Some stories begin as family and grow into friendship. A heartfelt reflection on loyalty, memories, and the people who stay with us through every season.]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/to-my-forever-friend</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a37f7ab6eab84e60606e50e</guid><category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category><category><![CDATA[Friendship]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 21 Jun 2026 15:14:55 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_a9504515958a423983fe35ab766ec9de~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[FORTY-TWO-WEEKS &#38; FOREVER]]></title><description><![CDATA[Every mother has a story, every story has a beginning. This is forty-two weeks in the making-and a lifetime in the living. When I first saw you, it wasn’t a wow moment. It wasn’t like in the movies where the doctor hands over the baby and exclaims, “Congratulations, you have a beautiful, bouncing baby boy!” That cinematic image was far from my reality. I didn’t get to hold you right away, to welcome you into the world. My heart was simply grateful because you were alive. You stayed in my womb...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/forty-two-weeks-forever</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a91e68d10dcf6288cc5a2</guid><category><![CDATA[Motherhood]]></category><category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 14 Jun 2026 15:00:12 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_300eb978f109463ea319c99bcd9426cc~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[THE MAKING OF HER]]></title><description><![CDATA[They saw her struggles. She saw her strength. The making of her is a journey of courage, resilience, and triumph. Her mother had three husbands, three men who fathered her children .What a way to start a story. Nonetheless, it’s not really a sad story. From the first came a son, from the second two middle children, and from the third her youngest daughter. The youngest kid, Ariah,was seen as a bit slow back then, at least by our school's standards. During her junior years in school, scoring...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/the-making-of-her</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a26727a7ec1956c54f97644</guid><category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category><category><![CDATA[Personal Growth]]></category><pubDate>Mon, 08 Jun 2026 08:54:10 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_d822f78e0b15477e85f8041044eab3aa~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[MARKED]]></title><description><![CDATA[His name was Mark, as if he'd been marked by fate, to have things never quite go his way. His father had left him and his mum at a young age to be with another family, leaving him a mark of rejection, of feeling he was not good enough. His mum, who was too self-absorbed to even care about her kids wants, lived a bitter life. She had reasons to be, at least that’s what she told herself. She was mad at the world and herself for always choosing men who left her heart in pieces. And just when she...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/marked</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a1c5d1cd0c800af965aa8f3</guid><category><![CDATA[Life Stories]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 31 May 2026 16:36:40 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_da40fd786b7d435dbbd31c0486118e99~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[BETWEEN SURVIVAL AND HOPE]]></title><description><![CDATA[n Navigating life between survival and hope. This desolate place has the ability to wear you down, no matter how strong you are as a dreamer. At some point, everything seems pointless. What exactly am I doing, you ask yourself, where will all this creativity and intelligence take me?  The hoots of the matatus are becoming more and more intolerable. To add to this, I have to fight each step of the way in order not to collide with the people walking beside me in every direction. No matter how...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/between-survival-and-hope</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a101c722b5c18841b95a6b1</guid><category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category><category><![CDATA[Life Stories]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 24 May 2026 14:00:18 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_13326f8719174b14acdfad94e8448f43~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_960,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[UNWRITTEN CHAPTERS]]></title><description><![CDATA[I walked those streets with a new schedule, a different rhythm. The empty spaces on the platform felt louder, the distant hum of the train a reminder of what had passed Another day, and it’s the usual; here I am sitting with a novel in my hands. The fifty-minute ride to work couldn’t be spent any better; it’s boring, nothing exciting to look at outside. It’s been months riding the same train; there is nothing new to see. As I turn to page 82 of my book, which lacks traditional chapters, it...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/unwritten-chapters</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a086c6a0b9e4f37fd27879c</guid><category><![CDATA[Stories]]></category><category><![CDATA[Moments & Meaning]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 17 May 2026 14:00:17 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_513acf30baa8467dba5d43c51caa5939~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[THE WEIGHT OF HER WALLS]]></title><description><![CDATA[Some walls protect you. Some walls slowly become your prison. Weight of her walls explores the silence, pain ,and strength hidden behind them. It’s like I had seen something in her long before she ever spoke it aloud— A pull. Not the ordinary kind that comes from charm or beauty or confidence, but a deeper force, the kind that forms only inside people who have endured more than they ever deserved. She carried a resilience that didn’t feel learned; it felt carved. Etched by something sharp,...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/the-weight-of-her-walls</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69fd9ae15bf92805eb5ece0e</guid><category><![CDATA[Personal Growth]]></category><category><![CDATA[Women's Stories]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 10 May 2026 15:00:17 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_4640d5e7abd048cba2f961c52c9c3226~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[THE MAN IN WHITE]]></title><description><![CDATA["This is one of those stories that will sit differently with you- depending on the rules you've learned to live by." He pulled over his car on her side, a Nissan GT-R R35, the latest marvel in town. A handsome man, mature in age, though you couldn’t quite tell how old. He had clearly kept himself well; that much was certain. His matching white khaki shorts and crisp white button-down shirt complemented his style perfectly. He seemed like the type who lived a disciplined, fitness-driven life;...]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/the-man-in-white</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69f7682c5caf4ed272b7b27d</guid><category><![CDATA[Short Stories]]></category><category><![CDATA[Drama]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 03 May 2026 15:45:20 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_775b37056a8b48a0b84d7a787fe5a1fd~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[LATELY]]></title><description><![CDATA[This are fragments of what life has felt like recently- unfiltered, shifting, and quietly honest Lately, I am walking at night. I feel a presence behind me. I’m skeptical, unsure if I should hurry up or slow down to let him pass. It’s a him. I know it by the bare heaviness of his footsteps. I sense he’s going to talk to me. I pray he doesn’t. Hi,” he calls out as he steps beside me. “Why the long face? Isn’t rain a blessing?” He must have noticed me skipping from one dry patch to another....]]></description><link>https://wangumuchiri.wixsite.com/my-site/post/lately</link><guid isPermaLink="false">69e7772087a5c2e7c1366b6f</guid><category><![CDATA[Reflections]]></category><pubDate>Tue, 21 Apr 2026 13:22:27 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/672636_dc5bd3775af84adf9be69fbe84fc0039~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Wangu Muchiri</dc:creator></item></channel></rss>