Shards of shattered glass generally bring feelings of regret and sadness as they represent the
end of something. In writing my short story, "Shards of Shattered Glass," I experimented with the thought that destroying something could be a positive action. Keep this in mind as you read my writing: that shattering something may bring freedom, not sorrow, and that the end of something can sometimes be far more beautiful than what the object was before...
Shards of Shattered Glass
The sky is a darkening silver hue, fading towards the distant horizon. A mist so thick it could be deemed rain settles over the damp street and sidewalk, darkening the asphalt of the street and the stone of the buildings beside it. Taxis and cars leave quickly disappearing tracks in the road as they hurry along to a destination somewhere deep inside the city. Beside them, streetlights falter and come to life as billboards and signs outside of stores twinkle their lights to pedestrians hurrying to here and there underneath the occasional umbrella. The shock of cars honking, the constant murmur of people talking, the endless drone of advertisements advertising, and the bubbly inconsistency of music playing are the noise and energy that is the city.
Such is observed from a window on the seventh floor of a building amid the city on this dull, overcast afternoon that is rapidly becoming evening. Beyond this window, we find a girl tracing her name into the foggy glass of her bedroom window.
LIA
She fiddles with the ribbon that she wraps and unwraps around her hand, then dangles in front of her at the silvery-tinted sky. The ribbon is pulled taught by the weight of the pendant it carries. The shimmering object catches the last portion of meager brilliance from the fast-falling sun, spinning slightly and sending droplets of light spinning off into the room like shards of shattered glass.
It is a key. A shimmering glass key, spinning gently on the ribbon that has been smoothly led through the intricate embellishment on the upper part of the extraordinary piece. Slender and delicate, this unique masterpiece would promptly shatter if introduced to the mundane, metal lock found on the average door. No, the key has an entirely different purpose.
Lia leans against the window and studies the key. The window is cool against her face, calming to the thoughts racing across her mind and wrapping themselves around memories…memories of the small piece of glass that dangles in front of her.
Walking through a store, being strangely drawn towards the delicate glass key. The salesperson says that so many people have returned it and haven’t wanted it—can you believe it?
Spending hours leaning against the back of her beanbag chair, turning the object over and over in her hand, observing every miniscule detail, wondering why in the world its previous owners hadn’t wanted it…
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Oh yes...I, um, I love it.” Her friend smiled unconvincingly.
Confusion rises inside of her, touched with the slightest hint of anger…does no one else notice how extraordinary the key is?
Ignoring her phone when it rang, hardly hearing it as it vibrated furiously. The key was far more important…
Watching the key shining brightly as it sits on her desk, hardly being able to look away….
The key glimmering as it hangs on its length of ribbon...
The key dangling from her hand…
The extraordinary key pulls Lia’s attention towards itself, wherever it is. Her eyes are drawn to it—she can not help but notice it. The key has an intangible, yet undeniable presence.
And now it feels heavier than usual as it dangles from her hand. Her eyes are glued to its shimmering surface as it spins and twists gently in the air.
She can barely think of anything but the key. The world fades away and she is trapped. Trapped in the cold world of the spinning, shimmering, glass…
Until an astonishing thought, a startling realization, battles its way to the front of her mind, screaming for her attention, crashing through the deluge of memories, forcing the key away.
And the key—the gorgeous, glass masterpiece—slips from willing fingers and tumbles towards the floor. It shimmers in the fading light—one last moment of gleaming beauty before the key shatters.
Glass cracks into tiny pieces with a clatter that slices through the silence of the room. Fragments skitter across the tile floor, spinning and breaking until they settle, surrounding the limp length of ribbon that had been looped through the key. Lia is frozen, her hand poised over the side of her seat where the key had fallen. Shock fills her…mixed with a confusing hint of breathless relief. There is, somehow, freedom in the shards of shattered glass.
Now, I am not encouraging people to go out and shatter some glass. Please don't, actually! I am merely trying to explore a different way of looking at the world. I hope it has been interesting!
I would also like to take a moment to thank you for reading my blog! It means a lot that I have a few regular readers.
Love,
Morgan
None of these photos turned out especially well as they seem, from my standpoint, to be rather bland compared to some of my previous work. Still, I am proud of my editing, and hopefully you enjoy them. 
