Oh Ophelia Novels & Stories

I looked at my reflection once more, my heart pounding inside my chest as the realization left me speechless. Madam Elise offered me her arm with a reassuring smile. "Are you ready, Miss Ophelia?" I took one slow breath before placing my hand in hers. "I'm ready.”

She paused, then turned her gaze toward Kristin. "Kristin," she called sweetly, "would you join me on stage?" Kristin hesitated, looking at Richard for direction. He nodded for her to go, and she slowly made her way to the stage. "I’m sure you all know her," Ophelia said, her voice dripping with false affection. "This is the wife of my beloved, adoptive son, Richard Hernandez." Richard muttered under his breath, "She’s so manipulative." Only he knew the torment Ophelia had put him through over the years. He knew how much she despised him.

I whispered, my voice hoarse from shouting. “No, I can't leave you!” he replied fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere without you” “Listen to me!” I said, as we backed each other. "I can survive on my own, Mia won't let me die, just go” I instructed" Reluctantly, Michael nodded. “Stay safe, Olivia,” he said, before turning and disappearing into the woods.” Just then, I felt a sharp thrust on my side. a sharp scream escaped my mouth, I gasped, stumbling as blood soaked my clothes. Everything became blurry, and I fell to my knees. Strong hands grabbed me roughly, pulling me to my feet. I was captured.

Ophelia's POV Two days. Two endless days of stumbling through these cursed mountains, searching for someone who didn’t want to be found. The guards had given me a clear warning to leave, but I wasn't going anywhere until I had the antidote. My legs burned with every step, and my throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper. “This is pointless,” I whispered to myself, my voice raspy. “Maybe they were right. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” The mist in the air felt thicker now, wrapping around me like a cloak. The cold bit at my skin, and for the first time, I let the thought sink in—I might not make it.

"I guess I don't get what you're saying." "I know it's you Amelia! You can cut the act now." Li-lah shook her head in denial. "I'm really not who you're saying I am. I'm Delilah Sanchez." Diego's faith was shaking. Is she really not Amelia? Was he wrong? "You're not Amelia, are you?" "That's what I've been saying. You must have thought I was someone else. Delilah Sanchez is who I am." but... "Mom, Grandma is here." Lia said running over to Li-lah. She was excited.

Ophelia chuckled. "Better go have some food." She said with a giggle. Kelly rolled her eyes and stood up before exiting the room. Ophelia breathed out in relief as she switched off her phone and laid down on the bed. Her eyes slowly closed, dreading the day she would go for the interview.

I enquire and they both say “Nothing.” “If you’re talking about nothing, then why are your lips moving?” I joke. Jocasta starts moving to the door, “You need to stop with your dad jokes, they’re not even remotely funny.” Ophelia stays behind and is staring at a picture on her phone. She looks sad and broody. “You okay?” I ask. “I honestly don’t know,” she says and puts her phone in her shirt pocket. “Anything I can do to help?” I want to know.

I felt dirty, despite the fact that I even had my lady parts scrubbed. But nothing could prepare me for this; not in my wildest imagination would I have imagined this. My heart broke as I watched Ophelia walk out of the forest. The little girl was dressed up in the same style as me; only her dress was a little looser and in a soft shade of pink. But short, so incredibly short. Her hair was braided, one braid over each shoulder, and tied up with pink bows. Her red, painted lips trembled, and her mascara-covered eyes were filled with tears. She ran right into my arms, and I thanked the goddess that nobody tried to stop her.

Thin sunlight seeped through high clerestory windows and pooled across the keep’s audience hall, where rumors already scuttled like mice. Ophelia stood near the servant’s entrance, tugging at the frayed sleeve of her old linen gown—borrowed from Maeve at dawn. Ash dozed at her feet, tail twitching.

I cut her off, feeling the pound of my heart. She looks at me, and her eyes fill with tears. "I read the book - All the bright places. That is not your story, Viola. You are not Finch, you are Violet, all the colours in full brightness, and it hurts so much that you can not see yourself how we see you." She quietly cries and I will very much like to blame her tears on the pregnancy and on not that I broke her heart. "You saved my life, Viola." She dries her tears with a tissue.