She stood on the edge of winter and spring. Not quite thawed yet. Nothing would be the same, though she hadn’t melted yet. Frozen over for so long she was cold. Her watery soul was like a glacier. Only a small view on the surface, but everything else held beneath.
Looking longingly at the swells of the ocean that danced along hightide, she could feel a cool breeze cover her. It was still sharp in a coldness only known by those who endured such a heartache as she had. Still, a tinge warmer than that of the winter winds of the past months. She was glad to be at the beach. Glad, but not happy.
Nothing made her happy anymore. Gazing down at the blank page of her journal. Nothing had come to mind. She came to the beach for inspiration, though it seems the well had run dry. No more sea of significance. Something was missing. Though what, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

BY: J.M.M.POWELL

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I wrote this a long, long, long while back for a preface to a story, but decided not to use it.

I was digging through old abandoned story ideas to get some inspiration when I came across this and some others.

Seems one thing I do well is not know what to write.
😅😅😅
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© J.M.M.Powell