Jenny stood silently before the familiar wooden door of her bedroom.
Dinner was eventful.
It’s not clear yet if they or I have changed.
The first time that Jenny had seen a carriage, at five years old, it had brought strangers who should have been family.
The past will not be a chain, but a ribbon; I will stride forward at last.
Jenny O’Brien strolled along the ocean’s edge, breathing in salt and sea air, her hands clasping a skirt full of seashells.
Every well-ordered thing is fragile, and every fragile thing is bound to break.
The questions and implications of existence in a subjected body are at the heart of Toni Morrison’s “Beloved”.
I’ve always felt like a bit of a weirdo…but am I really?
A retelling of a classic Greek myth.
© 2026 The Sunset Owl — Powered by WordPress
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑