Shorter fiction
Broken Mirror
Excerpt from upcoming short story collection anthology entitled “The Carpenter.”
Introduction
I’ve decided to start an anthology of a short story collection I’d like to eventually publish.
As I walk into the room of broken glass, the mirror, faucet, and sink are all broken and laying to the wayside, in the aftermath of the storm that had just passed. I bend down to pick up pieces of shattered glass slowly, trying not to cut myself, but to no avail.
I brush the sweat from my brow and forehead, having just fought this battle, with all the strength and might I could muster. As I muddle over what had just passed, attempting to put everything together, piece by piece, trying to comprehend what is obviously beyond my own understanding, I see the shadow of a tall figure leaning, peeking in from around the corner.
I see the shadow move slowly until I finally see a figure appear. He has curly dark hair with olive skin, his hands are worn; I can even see through them. There was such a calm that had entered the room, all tension, fear and darkness dispersed almost instantaneously. His calloused rough skin gently brushed against mine as he started taking pieces of glass out of my hands and from off the floor alongside me.
I asked him what he did for a living. He told me he was a carpenter, who on certain occasions would venture out and fish with some friends of his. He told me if I ever wanted to, I could join them.
“I might take you up on that one of these days," I replied, a little reluctant as feelings of melancholy still lingered over me in a gray, storm cloud.
He pulled some sort of roll of tape from his pocket and began tearing off pieces of it. He taped the strips individually next to one another in the doorway of the room we were in. He started taping the pieces of glass back together. Together we turned the mirror frame over right side up, and gathered up all the faucet fixtures.
He picked up the tired, tattered broken glass pieces and glued them with this special glue to the frame.
As I stared at my reflection, the person looking back at me, peering through the cracks, oblong and abstract in shape, like a misshapen jigsaw puzzle, the man stood up alongside me to pat me on the shoulder, whispered in my ear, "In time.. It heals all wounds."
As he walked out of the room, opened the front door and as he walked out of the house, I noticed a complete shift, not only in the room, but throughout the entire house, the entire atmosphere shifted. It not only felt lighter, it held a very sweet fragrance, similar to the smell of lilies, sweet peas and peonies. Somehow, I also smelled what seemed like fresh bread baking in the oven.
I decided to try and run and catch him before he pulled out of the driveway. The car was already started, and he was peeling out. I waved him down and he stopped.
“I just sent a message to one of my friends. It’s a beautiful night to camp out. Tents ready to go along with some really good grub, the lake will be teeming with trout and bass.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun.”
“You should join us; we’d be happy to have you.”
“My closets need a real makeover; a lot to go over, alot to clean out. ”
“Well, maybe next time.”
“I’ll take you up on that.”
He smiled leaning down, as he started the ignition again. He placed his right hand and arm on the headrest of the passenger seat, looking behind as he started backing out of the driveway. He looked up for a moment, waving goodbye to me, smiling. I waved back and turned to go back inside the house.
I decided to check the mail as it has already been a few days of not having checked it. As I reach my hand in, I feel something of a cold, metal object in my fingers. I end up pulling out this long, ancient looking skeleton key.
I suddenly picked my head up to look around, as if the carpenter was still in the driveway, but he had already been gone for a little while now.
Still I looked. I looked into the forest that lay about, encircling my home, surrounding it in a canopy of green lush, nestled sweetly, cozily on this side of the mountain, away from the rest of the outside world. I could hear the life, heartbeat of nature and her children as they called out to one another signaling, waiting for the next meal, where to meet, just talking, communicating as we do but in their own rhythm.
I went back inside, climbed up the stairs sleepily, dragging my feet through my bedroom door and fell upon my bed. I sighed, turning over and coming up for full, regular breaths. As I pulled myself up to my pillows, covered myself up with my quilt, I pulled the Bible out of my nightstand and began thumbing through it.
I find a passage to stop and read for a moment, reach to turn the light out, close my eyes and think about all that I had planned for the next day, as well as the carpenter.
©J.E. 2023. All rights reserved.
