When you are looking
down on yourself, the angle
distorts the image.
About the Creator
Ophelia Keane Braeden
Quirky fiction, hand-crafty non-fiction, random poetry. The muse strikes from all angles! Grab your favorite floatation device and join me on the wandering river of writerly flow!
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None of my writing is ever touched by AI.
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More stories from Ophelia Keane Braeden and writers in Poets and other communities.
No Word Comes Near Enough
The English language has its limits. I learned this when I became a student of the Bible and looked up the Greek and Hebrew definitions behind the Scriptures I loved. Some languages have so much more depth and power than the one I use to convey my thoughts. But, even so, I don't think any word could ever come close to describing this void and pain I am journeying through. I don't know how to swim through its murky waters.
By Shirley Belk2 days ago in Poets
Winterthorne
Winterthorne stood alone at the edge of the park. The beautiful snow that had surrounded him was all trampled now, from the feet of all of the children who had built him. He missed the sparkly clean snow blanket, but he was happy that so many children had come out to make him.
By Laura DePace5 days ago in Fiction
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