Glass
Her bulldozer of a husband died five years ago. But she stayed with him for years and she was his wife and their mother and their grand-mother, and she performed with the gentleness of a floating feather and the kindness of the spring breeze which carries it. She smiled, and never did any harm. She loved, but never too deep. After her husband's reign ended when he dropped to his knees in the kitchen as life choked out of him, she didn't change much except for the big white oceanfront house that she built. It was lovely and airy and stocked full of sweet food the grandchildren loved to eat and toys they loved to play with. She passed the time by collecting smooth sea glass along the shore. It wasn't long before the first large vase was full with the dull colors of glass made quiet by the grit of the sand and the surges and groans of the salty seawater. After that, she began to fill more and more vases, giving them away and starting again. One morning she was on her walk, gathering up the sea glass that had been brought to her, when she was hit by the sharpest pain in the tenderest part of her foot.
She felt the warmth of blood and she ground her teeth and she looked down at the jagged broken shell pushed into the sand by her weight, and she looked at the sea, and she screamed her spite.
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Author's Note
52/250 Broken Shells
Other stories by Lori Lou Freshwater
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I love water worn glass. And I love that the glass is smooth and the shell is sharp. And that she finally unleashes her spite.
God, yes! I can feel this one. Powerful. Dramatic.
fave
Thank you, James and Frankie. I truly appreciate you taking the time to read and comment and I'm glad you found something to like in there.
goodness this is good and sharp. interestingly, beach glass is not frail it's almost like stone, rough, sometimes not even glassy.
Yes, Lou. Great addition to the 52|250 world.
Good piece - "It was lovely and airy and stocked full of sweet food the grandchildren loved to eat and toys they loved to play with. She passed the time by collecting smooth sea glass along the shore."
I like it.
Good story: broad in scope, rich in detail, great ending. I enjoyed reading.
Marcus, thank you. Most of the sea glass I've felt is smooth, but I can absolutely imagine it being not so.
Sam, thank you, and I'm glad you picked that quote as I went back and forth about adding the word sweet.
Thank you, J. Mykell, and nice to 'see' you again.
I like how this turns into a release from pain. Sometimes to let loose with a yell is the only way to get it all out. Guttural. Animal...she ground her teeth and she looked down at the jagged broken shell pushed into the sand by her weight..
nicely turned piece. great opening line--i like the way it drags across the whole piece and makes double the sense of the curiously zen-lite of the character's world setting up the end from the beginning while at the same time not tipping the reader as to what is coming. and then there's the seaglass...
Loved this line: "It wasn't long before the first large vase was full with the dull colors of glass made quiet by the grit of the sand and the surges and groans of the salty seawater."
Loved the rest of it, too. Really nice writing.
Love the description in this - can visualize everything perfectly...very nice....
How long can a person stay quiet under a reign of terror? This built slowly, and beautifully, right up to her unholy scream.
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Lovely work, Lou. I feel for her. She tried so hard to rise above. *
Daryl, Stephen, Foster, Jules, Susan and Kim, thank you all for your comments and for taking the time to read my work. That you liked it is a bonus, thank you.
Susan, surprisingly long, unfortunately.
Wow. Pow-er-ful. Reminds me of an old friend whose awful husband told that if he ever had a heart attack, "count to a thousand and then call for help." She did.
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Ha, love that story Jack. And thank you for reading and commenting. And for wearing that hat.
Very well picked words and phrases, Lou. To me, that's what makes this especially expert.*
This feels like a powerful story, and the words do feel carefully selected. So powerfully tragic.
Meg and Robert, thank you so much for your comments. I really appreciate it.