The Glass Is Already Broken Novels & Stories

"CLASH! CLANG!" The sapphire blue goblet accented with golden strings at the bottom that he prisoned in his hand finally found its freedom, landed on the gray granite tiles, and shattered into fine pieces. Martins powerless hand tried to save the glass but it chose to let go of his trembling heart for the first time. Martin's knees became weak and folded it to the floor to pick up the pieces of the broken glass, but...

"Some people don't want what you have until they see how happy it makes you." KIVA POV The glass slipped from my fingers. It shattered against the floor with a sound that split the silence of the hallway wide open, sharp and sudden and irreversible, the way some sounds are. The kind that cannot be taken back. My stomach dropped. For one terrible second everything went completely still. The house held its breath. I held mine. The broken pieces caught the thin light spilling from the sitting room doorway and scattered it in every direction, small and bright and wrong.

But my trembling hands caused my favorite wine glass to fall onto the floor and shatter into a million glistening pieces. "Goddammit!" I cried piercingly, kneeling down as if I could possibly put the glass together again. But who am I fooling—I can't fix it. I can't glue these broken pieces together, no matter how hard I try; I'll only make my hands bloody and spend time trying to fix something that's unfixable. What I can do? I can stare at the mess until I get a broom and throw what has become of my favorite wine glass away in the trash, accepting the fact that it can never be mended again.

Because based on his advices, he seems to be an expert in the problem I am facing. "I don't think you can win her back. Remember this Del Mundo, not everything that breaks is restored. Cianna's fragile, and you know that fragile should be handled with care because once it's broken, it can't be repaired. Glasses, vases and other fragile materials—ike this. . ." "What the h*ll!" I screamed after he dropped the glass he was holding. "Look at that glass, I broke it. Now, let me fix it." He knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of glass one by one.

The water sloshed, wetting my hand. The glass slipped from my hold. The sound of the broken glass penetrated our ears. I peered at the broken shards and realized it was like my relationship with Noah. It was broken and can never be fixed.

I can see how broken he is. There's so much pain in his eyes. His hand is shaking as he gets the glass from my hand. "Giovanni," I called him. "D-Don't tell me to stop crying. The pain is so unbearable," he said as he closed his eyes. He dropped the glass to the floor and it breaks. I immediately pick up the portions of the broken glass. "Just like these pieces, they are like trust. It is broken and you can't unbreak it," he spoke out.

“No!” The glass broke.

TESSA The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. My crystal glass slips from my numb fingers, shattering on the floor in a symphony of destruction. The sound echoes through the room, sharp and final, like the sound of my future breaking into a thousand pieces. Wine spreads across the floor like blood, seeping into the expensive carpet around the table, staining it permanently. I stare at the mess, thinking how fitting it is. Beautiful things breaking, leaving permanent marks, impossible to clean up completely.

If the world needs to change for this to happen then I am willing to make the change happen. The sound of breaking glass is not a memory. It is the sound of what's going to happen. The Tower of Glass and my fathers control will come to an end.

“This is?” Realizing the familiar scene, yet put on a heavy emphasis towards the difference of each shard and broken pieces. Where a particular scene is playing at each broken one, yet peculiarly some scenes that are too blurry to see are falling fast than the others. Hitting that somewhat none existing floor and breaking it into much tinier pieces and vanishing into thin air. The ones that remain afloat and different from the latter are now facing her. Like a puzzle that she needed to solve, yet is bringing the warning that’s making her sweat with coldness and unexplainable dread that she never had before. Each piece of the glass is showing her a promise, yet somewhat a curse that are and m