[Emily]: 252.Dark and Horror.Pick up the Glass Pieces

Type: Short Story, mystic fantasy/dark
Date: January 19th, 2006.
Progress: Complete
Note: Dealing with a bending heart.

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Pick up the Glass Pieces of My Heart

There’s a difference between throwing a glass plate at a wall and dropping someone’s glass heart. The sounds are so different, and the pieces, when broken, mean so much more.
    
I’m so sorry.

That doesn’t help me now.

Her heart slips from his fingers, so small, beating ever so gently. It means no harm, only to please. Some of his blood is on the heart, and there are scratches on his fingers. Sometimes the edges of that heart drew blood, but it wasn’t meant to harm, only to please.

This glass heart slips and falls, it cracks, cracks again, and shatters; shatters into a dozen pieces, and then a dozen more. The sound echoes in the dark room, like wind chimes being thrown against a wall, tinkling its smooth, melodic tune, while screaming in pain. He sighs.

I’m so sorry.

She stands, looking at the delicate pieces of her own glass heart. She shakes her head, her eyes half-closed, almost rectangular. They nearly glow grey. Her voice is raspy; she has been screaming.

That doesn’t help me now.

He lifts a shoulder, still gazing down at the glass heart. Tears fall from her eyes, the glass pieces still trying to beat, trying to live on.

I’m so…

I’ll live. I’ll mend it. Just go.

He bends down now, trying to collect the pieces.

No, it’s my fault, I’ll do it.

The pieces cut into him, angrily, saddened. The glass turns blue. It starts melting, starts breaking, starts turning to dust in his hands. She gasps, clutching her chest, but not moving anymore.

You’re breaking my heart! she gasps.

He stops trying to put the pieces back together. He lets the dust fall through his hands. Staying on his knees, he bows his head, letting his hands go limp at his sides.

She’s crying softly, the tears sliding down her cheeks, her shoulders moving with the gulps to keep in control. An occasional cry escapes her throat.

I’m so sorry…
That doesn’t help me now.

© Emily McDurman, all rights reserved!