http://www.writermag.com/writing-prompts/fragile-character/

lady glass

She stands alone, staring at her reflection in the mirror before her. With a head tilt she begins to dissect the fragile person mimicking her movements in front her. This figure is young – not as youthful as she once was but certainly not even in the middle parts of adulthood. Her hair is flat, lacking all body, as if it’s given up trying to be beautiful and lustrous. The blond curls cling to her head and neck, as if holding the woman together in a desperate attempt to keep her alive.

A frail looking hand, bones sticking through the grayish tinted skin, reaches up and pushes sad golden strands from her eyes. Those sunken in gray eyes. She gets lost in them for a moment, as they seem to pull her in, drowning her in their deepness. They are whirlpools that trap the unwary – swirling them down into her brokenness. She knows what others think when they get lost in the gray maelstroms. Pity. Always so much pity.

The reflection bites her cracked lip at the pain of thinking about all that pity. Her lips are dry and gray tinged like her. It’s as if the color has leached from her body, giving her a grayish tint and muting all the once vibrant color behind that gray wall. She wished that this fragile person in the mirror wasn’t real. She wished this reflection was somehow just a dream. As she continued examining this reflection she continued to wish her away.

Her shoulders were bony, so were her hips. She was all angles and sharp points – there wasn’t an ounce of fat or muscle to add any curves. She was a skeleton covered in skin. Her stomach was even more sunken in than her eyes and even through the white t-shirt she could count each rib bone with ease.  Her skirt hung way below her waist and gave off the impression that it would slip even further down any second. There was nothing holding that black cotton cloth to her body, except the sheer will of the skirt to do its job and cover her.

She looked back up at her gray eyes. The whirlpool swirled one last time, sputtering and dying. The gray depths began to reflect a bright shine – as if they were now polish jewels, giving off light instead of sucking it into her. A strong tear forced its way to the surface and like a waterfall gushed over her lid and down her cheek. There would no longer be pity for this creature before her.

That tear brought her shoulders up straight, her arms flinging out to bring her up tall. She stood with pride, shaking her hair from her face. She would no longer allow this gray monster to control her. She would control her. She reached forward and with all the strength of a new-born kitten she struck the mirror before her. Surprisingly the mirror shattered, spilling that saddened reflection to the carpet at her feet.

She turned away, gingerly walking through the shards of her previous existence. She walked in silence, but brace silence. All the way to the kitchen she strode, shoulders and head held high. She took hold of a sandwich, already made on the counter, and brought it up to her lips. Control was once more. She would never again be that person now left shattered in the glass on her bedroom floor. Never again.

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