Once, I lived in a beautiful house made of glass. At night, I slept under a blanket of stars while the moon’s bright face watched over me.  During the day, the sunlight trickled through the sparkling glass and warmed my skin.  I could stand in the middle of a rainstorm without getting wet.  Daisies sprang up, birds flew by, ladybugs crawled along the outside of the glass, green leaves turned brilliant shades of red and orange, and white flakes drifted softly passed the glass—all the world was open to me.

But it wasn’t just the world that was open to me; I was open to the world. Everything I was could be seen. There was no place to hide in my house of glass. Not everyone liked what they saw.  They threw stones at my glass walls until they shattered into a million pieces of shining light.

I rebuilt my home, but this time I did not use glass. Study stone walls incase me now.  There is no glass in this new house—no weakness in the sturdy walls for stones to break in.   My new home doesn’t sprinkle the ceiling with lights at night, change colors in the fall, and turn pink when the sun rises or orange when the sun sets.   It remains constantly dark.  The world is hidden from me, and I am hidden from the world. But I will always remember that once I lived in a house of glass.


In honor Flash Fiction Day, I’ll be posting flash fiction throughout the day. Be ready to read. There’s more to come!

Here’s the other stories I’ve posted today. Letters, Loki’s Interview, Mansions , The Chalice, Sacrifice


10 thoughts on “Shattered

  1. It’s a sad and good parable. You remind us that being open to the world is fragile. If we’d all be equally open, then we’d all be equally strong. Maybe when that happens, someone will come knock on the stone house door.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Nice piece on finding sanctuary . And a great play on those who throw stones shouldn’t build there houses with glass. I also wanted to comment on your story called ‘The Bottle’ I couldn’t find it on here, but I really loved that one. Whatever was in that little jar was a gift, a wonderful gift for this girl, so scarred and damaged by a fire, she hadn’t met to start. I imagine it was quite hard being made fun of by all the other children and having to live in a one room shack with disappointed and heartbroken parents. So happy she was healed and the house came back.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks! I think we’ve all felt like we were living in a glass house at sometime in our lives, then events happen that cause us to build thicker walls. While we may be protected behind those walls, we also are cut off from others. Being open is a beautiful, but fragile thing.
      I took that story off only a few minutes after it went out because I’d already posted 5 or 6 stories that day and thought it might be too much. I didn’t want to bombard my readers. 🙂 Sorry for the confusion. I didn’t think anyone had read it yet. I’ll be posting it later though.
      I’m so glad you liked it! It is a beautiful reminder that we can all start again. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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