Your Littlest Head
A Haiku
Your littlest head
Propped between behemoth peaks
fathoms the distance
About the Creator
Isabelle Anand-McEwen
An Undergraduate student interested in stories about nature, history, and magic. Currently writing from Nova Scotia, Canada.
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More stories from Isabelle Anand-McEwen and writers in Poets and other communities.
- Runner-Up in After the Parade Challenge
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author6 days ago in Fiction
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