The mirror shattered as he pulled back his fist, bloody and broken with sparkling shards of broken glass jutting forth like the claws of some bizarre animal found in forgotten corners of the world where even the bravest of explorers dare not tread. He pulled back, and the glass(more) fell away into a veritable minefield for bare feet on the ground. Twisting around, he pulled himself gingerly onto the counter behind him careful not to disturb the intricately placed toiletries.
A day from now this bathroom would cease to be his. A day from now this apartment would be little more than a memory of a time when he could call a place a home. His fist of rage, his tired tear-soaked eyes were what remained beside the notice to vacate. The rest of his possessions had gone to storage, a unit he could scarce pay for and he feared he may one day see on the television images of his own disjointed life being picked apart on a particularly depressing episode of Auction Hunters or worse.
A year from now, he'd find himself on a roadside with a sign reading, "By the grace of God am I alive. And by the grace of God did I have you, my savior." They'd pass him by with negligent glances; a quarter dropped into a jar coated in the remains of piss and excrement. The joys of an urban survival, a modern interpretation of McCarthy's The Road where society is left standing and those desperate few are left in the gutters to scream out in despair and silence to the deaf masses that scuttle to and fro in their chariots of steel.
On the cold winter nights he shivers. The jar refilled is warmth. He is his refuge, and little more.(less)
His heart shattered as he watched her walk away for the last time. They broke up many times prior, but now he felt it in the pit of his stomach, she wasn't coming back. Four years of love and pain, and another of uncertainty, Jack was finally on his(more) own and had nowhere to turn, he needed her now more than ever.(less)
Little Aaron was at home alone one day and found his favorite toy hidden in his parent's bedroom when poking around in places he would never be allowed to go. Under his parent's bed he found all kinds of toys that he was sure were his, but most of(more) them he didn't even remember. Among these toys was his beloved fluorescent orange wiffle bat. Ignoring the rest of the toys and gross things he wasn't sure about hiding underneath the bed he victoriously emerged from the shadows with his favorite blazing orange instrument of pain and destruction with a shriek of delight.
"WEEEEE! My wiffy bat! Hahaha!"
Overtaken by a lust for wanton destruction and revenge known only to the shunned fringes of humankind, he climbed upon his parent's bed and jumped off the bed using all of his momentum from the fall to smack the bat onto a mirror knocking it over onto his mother's prized faberge egg collection, destroying most of them as well.
"That will show them to take my toys away!" Aaron thought as he threw the shards of shattered mirror and faberge egg onto his parents' bed, then jumped onto the bed to watch the pieces fly everywhere.
I see you, child. You think you are shattered. You have fought and cowered, chased and fled, stood up and been run down.
(more) I have watched you, child. Watched you weep, wail, grieve and grovel. You think you are shattered.
But I know you, child. Your heart is a fortress, its walls thick. It has taken the beatings, the stones, the insults. It is injured, in places, the walls blackened or cracked or broken.
What fortress is made of glass?
You are not glass, to be shattered. You are not stone, to be cracked. You are young wood, to bend and flex and grow. What is cut away is not lost; it will grow back. Do not think of yourself as glass.
The mirror was the first gift she’d unwrapped on her wedding day. The polished silver frame was wrought in twisting roses that wrapped about the mirror’s glass, and when she gazed at her reflection she felt like she was seeing another world. She smiled as she’d held it tha(more)t first time, feeling the warmth drain from her hands and into the mirror’s cool metal, but no matter how long she held it the mirror never seemed to grow warm.
She hung the mirror in the hallway outside their bedroom and took it down every six months for polishing. Even when their arguments became violent and all other household chores came to a halt, she still made time to make certain the mirror’s silver gleamed the way it had on her wedding day. He mocked her for it. In the kitchen dishes piled and rotted, but she spent her time polishing.
He came home that evening the same way he always did, smelling of booze and another woman. He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the kitchen, throwing her against the refrigerator he screamed at her. She cried and tried to run, but he was too fast. He caught her in the living room and threw her into the television.
As he walked away she picked up the mirror from the coffee table and brought the heavy silver thing across his skull. He crumpled, but she didn’t stop until the mirror’s carefully wrought frame was unrecognizable. The glass inside was shattered, lying in a thousand glistening shards across the body of her husband.
She held her husband’s hand and picked up a piece of glass. She pulled the shard across her throat and she smiled.