Just Another Crystal Glass

|today I was feeling more mysterious and decided to post a short story that I wrote this year for school. It was an English assignment that I worked so hard on to get the mark I did get, and in the end the only deduction was one capital missing. Anyways enjoy!

Just Another Crystal Glass

June 9th 2006


They say that time heals everything, but I now know the truth. In all my years thriving on this planet earth, I have never felt as I do now. Think of a crystal glass slowly spinning on the ledge of a building. We people are this glass, teetering on the brink of disaster, never able to see how far we could potentially fall, and always trying to protect ourselves from what we know nothing of. Now, watch the glass slowly spin, see it as it shines in the light of the sun, feel the wind as its breath envelopes the unsuspecting glass, and watch the glass as it is thrown from its sheltered ledge. The shattered remains of this glass are now me, forever broken, forever fragmented, and forever lost.
My name is Jane Williams, born in Ontario Canada, raised by my kind hearted and loving mother, and sister to Marylyn, one of the sweetest 9-year-old girls in the world. I have always been able to find the light in any darkened place, but that was before I lost everything I had ever lived for. I write this book in hopes to stop what life I do have left from further deteriorating, to keep my shards intact.

May 1st 2006

The sun shone through the leaves of the forest trees, leaving ribbons of golden sunlight paving the walk before us. A warm wind softly blew, warming my spirits as it flowed through my long blonde hair. I stopped in the middle of the path and smiled as I hear Marylyn call out.
“Jane! Jane! Look at this!”Marylyn skipped in front of me, freckled face grinning as she hoped up onto a large boulder. My heart seemed to stop for a few moments when her small childish arms flailed around her as she regained her balance. Then suddenly, she stilled. I tried desperately not to laugh as she began to try and balance on one foot while making slow motions with her arms. She then changed into a strange position in which she looked almost as if she was a frog, her little blue checkered dress flowing around her peacefully, and her strawberry blonde hair forming a sort of halo around her head. She was a picture of peace, the most wonderful and friendly sister a person could ever have.
“This,” she began to tell me in a very calming relaxed voice, “Is what Anne-Marie calls-“ I never got to hear the rest of the sentence; suddenly Marylyn did something I can never forget. The wind no longer felt as friendly as it did before, and the trees grew into an eerie confinement, as my sister Marylyn fell for the first time. Marylyn’s innocent body began to quaver a top the rock, and her arms fell to her sides as she fell to the ground in a fit of sickness. For the first time n my life I was truly scared. I ran to her side, and held her close so that her thrashing arms would not harm her, and screamed for help.

May 15th 2006

They say I did the right thing, that day back on May 1st, but I still can’t help but feel that it was my entire fault. If I hadn’t have taken the long path home Monday evening instead of the usual route, maybe I would have been able to get her to the hospital faster and she wouldn’t have to suffer as much as she is now. For 15 days little Mary has been hooked up to machines, tested, poked and prodded, and we still don’t know what is wrong with the poor dear. Mother and I have been taking turns staying overnight in the hospital so that she is never lonely. It’s so hard to believe that the once bright, cheerful, Sunkist little girl has become so pale, sickly, and weak.
It is now 6:00 pm, and I wait for the results of Marylyn’s latest test. I begged mother to go home and get some sleep, insisting that I could handle it on my own; Mary backed me up saying she didn’t wish her to lose sleep over her, and with no choice mother left. It is during these times that Marylyn and I take time to stay sisters. I tell her tales of princesses and castles, and she tells me of her invisible friend Carry. We laugh and joke, and try to distract ourselves from the white walls surrounding us. But today, is not one of those days and I sit worried while Mary eats her dinner.
“Jane,” Marylyn says quietly. I look up and meet her sad little blue eyes. “Please,” she says softly. “Don’t worry about me, I will be ok. I can feel it, I’m getting better.” I look at her; she looks so pure, so naive.
“I know,’ I said, “But I can’t help worrying, you’re my sister.” Mary gave me a little smile and nodded, it was then Doctor Morsoe, a little eccentric but kind, old doctor walked in.
“Good evening ladies,” he said cheerfully. This was a good sign. “I just went over the latest tests, and it appears as though you my young lady,” he says to Mary, “will be able to go home by the end of this week.” We all smile at him. Definitely a good sign.

June 6th 2006

He lied to us. The good news bearing doctor lied, he said she would get better, and he was right, until today. She had what they call a relapse, what the countless dictionaries define as, “To fall back into illness after convalescence or apparent recovery.” I have come to a conclusion that life is not fair. How could this be happening to such a young and innocent child? More and more frequently I find myself worrying, and no longer care about my education, or myself for that matter. This worries my mother, but I know that I am but a small price to pay, as long as my sister can recover.
And now I wait outside of her hospital room as they try to stop her seizing. It happened just like it did on may first, but this time there was no one with her. She was alone asleep in the middle of the night, and could have been convulsing for hours. This worries me more than anything and I fear she might not recover. Tears begin to leak down my reddened face as I think of a life without my little sister in it. I think of everything she would never do, everywhere she would never go, and shudder at what she would never see. And all because of me.
It was a good thing that the doctor decided to come and get me then else I might have drowned the hallway with my tears. A tall, tired looking, young doctor came to my mother and me slowly. This was definitely not a good sign. “Mrs. Williams?” He said slowly,
“Yes” My mother replies tiredly.
“We stopped your daughter Marylyn’s seizure, but the results aren’t good and we don’t know how long she will be stable for. We think it may have caused her some brain damage, I’m very sorry.” He says sadly.
“May I see her?” My mother asks.
“Not as of yet, but, Marylyn wishes to see Jane.” Immediately I bolt, my sister needs me.
I run into the tiny emerge room only to find a horrible site in front of me. My sister looks sicklier than ever, her once beautiful strawberry blonde hair is matted and her face is pale and covered in a cold sweat, her body is still trembling, and her lips are a strange shade of blue. She looks at me as I enter the room, and begins to speak in a nearly inaudible whisper. “Jane, Jane, look at this.” She says with a tiny smile. I begin to cry at once, that is exactly what she said to me on the first of May. “I thought I was going to get better, but I know I’m wrong, I am very sorry.” She says with a hurt tone. I look at her angrily.
“Don’t say that, you will get better!” I tell her. She only gives a small little laugh, if you could call it that.
“Jane, look at me.” She says softly. I look at her ashen face. “My head is broken, and I can’t think right. Promise me something Jane.” I look at her and my lip begins to tremble. Her tiny little form begins to shudder as she starts to struggle for breath. It sounds as though she has been running for a long time. “Promise me that...” She starts to fall asleep, so I shake her panicking.
“Promise you what?!” I say strongly. She instantly opens her eyes as though she has been shocked awake and continues.
“Promise me that no matter what happens to me, that, that you will forget this moment. I don’t want you to ever remember me like this. I want you to move on with your life, have fun, dance, and grow up. Once everything is over, never think of me again, it is no use living like this, I don’t want you to get stuck, like me, like my head. Like my head, stuck in the past. Past. Past.” I couldn’t help it, tears began to poor off my face, and I began to sob, I held my little sister in my arms as her breathing became laboured once more. “Jane this,” she said and I looked up at her still crying “is what Anne-Marie calls-“and I never got to hear the rest of the sentence. For my little baby sister breathed her last.

One Year Later

June 9th 2006

They say that time heals everything, but I now know the truth. In all my years thriving on this planet earth, I have never felt as I do now. Think of a crystal glass slowly spinning on the ledge of a building. We people are this glass, teetering on the brink of disaster, never able to see how far we could potentially fall, and always trying to protect ourselves from what we know nothing of. Now, watch the glass slowly spin, see it as it shines in the light of the sun, feel the wind as its breath envelopes the unsuspecting glass, and watch the glass as it is thrown from its sheltered ledge. The shattered remains of this glass are now me, forever broken, forever fragmented, and forever lost.




"One very important aspect of motivation is the willingness to stop and to look at things that no one else has bothered to look at. This simple process of focusing on things that are normally taken for granted is a powerful source of creativity...”-Edward de Bono, psychologist and writer

Goodnight!