A Glass Winter
By M T M
- 440 reads
A Glass Winter 1
A room can hold a thousand memories. Every heartbreak, argument, bubble of joy, seeping into the furniture. If these walls could talk. A family grows...
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- 432 reads
A Glass Winter 2
The bottle exploded angrily on the marble floor. “FUCK!” Vanessa screeched. It was a good rosé as well. The noise was just enough to make everyone...
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- 443 reads
A Glass Winter 5
Looking down at her phone she see’s six missed calls from her mother. Wiping her dewy eye’s, she stows it back in her purse; swapping it for a hip flask full of vodka. She didn’t feel like flirting for drinks tonight.
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- 441 reads
A Glass Winter 6
There was some sense of malice, as if the mirror knew what he had done, laying bare his betrayal. Like Dorian Grays portrait enumerating his sins.
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- 489 reads
A Glass Winter 7
Heat, oppressive heat. They said it would be 39°C in the city. Those unfortunate enough to be outside hustled from one air-conditioned lobby to another, a constant tirade of disbelief. It cannot be this hot, this is ridiculous.
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- 549 reads
A Glass Winter 8
Whatever has become of her, he thought. Reading her letters didn’t shed much light, the same deathly romantic, self-satisfying musings as when they were together.
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- 312 reads
A Glass Winter 9
The weight lifting from his shoulders seemed to inspire a scream of applause from nature itself. Never had this patio, this garden, these hills, moved him so deeply.
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- 487 reads
A Glass Winter 3
Such was the energy of the scene, every surface gleamed with disgrace, wet plates and dust covered glasses, all crying in silent worship of their deathly beautiful figurehead.
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- 336 reads
A Glass Winter 10
Clear as his two steaming jailers, he saw her twisted form, moving ever so slightly in the moment before absolute death. A second playing on an endless loop, his wife shifting into silence, a shiver almost too small to see, and now he was condemned to see it always.
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- 284 reads
A Glass Winter 11
Fallow pools of vapid souls swirl around the world machine. Leaving little fuel for us, the cognisant fools committed to studying lies.
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- 307 reads