Meet Writer LMA Bauman-Milner

Meet Writer LMA Bauman-Milner

The below stories are disturbing as hell, which is why I love them.  Some viewers may find them uncomfortable.

First of all, I love the fact that I feel the need to add a warning before even introducing the writer.  😉

My friend LMA Bauman-Milner is a writer who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, or in this case, bloody.  We’ve known each other for just a little less than a millennia, while she still lived in Ontario.  Here’s her bio which I have totally copied from her Facebook page because I’m lazy.  😉

 LMA Bauman-Milner was born in Ontario, Canada, and has lived in the UK since 1998, perfecting her study of all things British. A life-long student, she switched to the other side of the desk in 2006, teaching secondary English for several years. Since leaving the profession, she turned to writing to exorcise the demons in her head, and put faces to the fears. She graduated with an MA in Creative Writing course at Leeds Trinity University in December 2015.

She lives in West Yorkshire with her husband and son and two fractious cats.

I thought that it would be cool to introduce you guys to her.  Now I could go on about how cool she is (she has me as a close friend, so obviously she is a woman of impeccable taste), or that she can make you laugh and gross you out, usually in the same conversation (you should see our Facebook conversations….then again, it’s probably best that you don’t).  😉

However, I thought that I would just share some of her stories with you, courtesy of YouTube.  A little story called Sick Face, and a piece called Glass and Blood.  

And now ladies and gentlemen, may I present, the twisted mind of LMA Bauman-Milner.




If you like that, here’s more

Reading of the short story, In-between

Short Story Cast – A Podcast


She has two books out on and

Dark Doorsa collection of her own horror stories.

Inspiration: A Space for Words – a collection of prose and poetry from the students and alumni of Leeds Trinity University, along with guest authors.  She was an editor.

You can find her upcoming schedule on her Facebook page here, and more info. from her website here.  She also runs a writing group.


Text © Written In Geek blog (2017) All rights reserved
Pictures © Written In Geek blog, used with subject’s permission or under public domain (2017)- feature image from the author’s Facebook page ’cause she said that it’s okay for me to use it.  🙂

About Me…



Dark Poetry: Claudia and Louis

Dark Poetry:  Claudia and Louis

Inspired by the movie, Interview with the Vampire and the relationship between Claudia and Louis.


I am lost to him
Like a mirror
I offer no reflection

My Louis, what did you hope to find?
You scour your thoughts
For the tattered pieces of your life

I’m tired, he said
Then end it, I told him
It’s your choice
It always has been

Like me, I was your choice
Not my own
You called me your child?
I was a child
But pretty dolls and music lessons
Were not me

But you are my child…
Am I?
Was I rescued?

But then again, no
That life was not me
I didn’t know me
You took me
Before I found out

I had to start again
To try to find Me
But I was not lost
Not like you

You are exposed
You are weakness and sorrow
I was to be you
But I chose not to

Not out of anger

I have no time for that
But then again
Myself and Time
Are intertwined
In the endless dance

Am I sad?
I am nothing but existence
As I was traded from one life
For another

Your rest has come
And with it
I will now become you
Just as you wanted

Until I too, come to that day
When I find my own
And give her no choice
But to be me


Text © Written In Geek blog (2017) All rights reserved
Pictures © Written In Geek blog, used with subject’s permission or under public domain (2017)- feature image from Pixabay.

About Me…

Trace: Part 2

Trace: Part 2

(Here is Part 2 of Wednesday’s post.)  🙂


Dropping my stash, I rushed back onto the main floor just in time to see her pointing her pistol at five of the S.O.B.s.  Within moments, I had downed the three closest to her and got the attention of the other two.  Chloe ran towards me.  Suddenly she tripped over some debris, sending her pistol flying.  One of the creatures headed towards the gun as the other continued towards me.  She stood up and ran, stopping when she realized that she dropped her weapon.

“Forget it Chloe!  Come on!” I shouted, keeping my eye on my advancing target.  She ignored me and went back, only to come face to face with her attacker.  They stood facing each other with the pistol between them.  I had one bullet left.  Question is, which of these creatures do I shoot?

Chloe’s lunge towards the pistol gave me my answer.  I raised the rifle and emptied the last bullet into her attacker just as it grabbed her.  She pulled herself free, pistol in hand, and ran towards me.  Stopping a few feet away, she raised the gun and put a bullet in the last one’s head, saving me the trouble of getting blood and guts all over my rifle.

The two of us stood there for a moment, collecting our breath and our thoughts.  I looked at her with a smile.  It wasn’t returned.

As I walked towards her, all I could hear was the sound of my own voice whispering “no” over and over again.  She looked at me in sympathy.  My face was wet as I reached out to her.  “Don’t touch me Trace,” she said, stepping back.  “I don’t want to risk it.”  I looked at her hand.  The creature had scratched her, its own blood and filth was now working its way through her system.  Death would be slow, painfully slow.

She lifted the pistol to her head.  “No!” I shouted, knocking it from her hand.  I know the promise that I made, but now that the moment was here, I couldn’t do it.  I just can’t.  She looked into my brown eyes and smiled.  “It’s okay Trace,” she said.  That’s when I realized that she had pulled out a small screwdriver from her pocket, one that she had found earlier.  In one swift motion, she stabbed it into her temple, her body dropping to the floor, her blood covering her pretty face and staining her hair.

And I just stood there and let her do it.  Me, the brave one, the one that had kept us fed and safe.  Me, the one that when it came down to it, was just chicken shit.  I couldn’t even hold her to say goodbye.  The chance of contamination was too much of a risk.  So, I just stood there.  I don’t know how much time went by, though judging by the darkening of the store, it was probably getting close to dusk.  This was when we would normally find a safe place to hold up for the night, but tonight I would be doing that alone.  I looked at the pistol.  It was covered in blood, hers and its.  I left it there.  Stepping outside, I took a quick look around.  Suddenly, I could hear them.  I really wasn’t surprised.  We had been followed for days, managing to stay just ahead of them.  I knew that they heard the noise and came to check it out.  I had a choice to make.  Stand here and let them take me.  Take my own life before they arrive.  Run and hide.  All three choices sucked.  I raised my rifle.  It was empty but they didn’t need to know that.

Two armoured trucks came up the street and stopped about 100 feet away.  Two soldiers stepped out.  I knew who they were and why they were here.

“It’s her sir.” I heard on one soldier’s walkie talkie.  He raised a hand as he moved forward.  “Put the rifle down.  You’re unnumbered and outgunned.”  I knew that, but I didn’t care.  I just stood there waiting.  I heard guns click as four more soldiers stepped out.  They needed me alive, that much I knew.  I wish I took that pistol now.  I don’t know why I didn’t.

That’s a lie.  I know exactly why.  I want to know what really happened.  And I want him to answer for Chloe.

I lowered my weapon and got on my knees.  The soldier rushed over and shoved me to the ground, handcuffed me, and dragged me to the truck, where I was tossed inside.  The roar of the vehicle vibrated in my ear as I laid on the floor.  No one offered to help me up, making me feel more like a package than a person.  Eventually I got up myself, shuffling over to the side and propping myself up enough to sit on the long, metal bench.  That’s when I actually paid attention to who was on the bench across from me.

He looked over at me, glasses perched on the tip of his nose.  He still hasn’t fixed their fit yet.  He gave me a faint smile.  I couldn’t tell if it was pity or satisfaction.  It certainly wasn’t affection.  “Hi Dad,” I said.  “Hello Tracey.” he replied as he moved next to me and injected me with the syringe.

That’s when everything went black.



Text © Written In Geek blog (2017) All rights reserved
Pictures © Written In Geek blog, used with subject’s permission or under public domain (2017)- feature image courtesy of Pixabay.

About Me…