Flash Fiction: Life in a Glasshouse
Emotional Management © Sarah Hobbs
They say not to throw stones in glasshouses. He was trying his best not to but there were two birds right outside, staring at him and tempting his fate.
He felt himself shift awake into half-consciousness where he didn’t really know where he was. His insides chilled when he heard the all-too-familiar cawing. He had been watching a crooked branch where two crows were perched. He was watching them, and they were watching him. He lived in a house with glass walls, and the beady little eyes could see right through him. Crows foreshadow death, but to others, good luck. He wasn’t sure which fit his fate but was confident that this meant something. He scrunched his eyes in dread- he didn’t want to open them. The light eventually pried them open. To his delight, he saw the plastered blue sky all over his walls. This way, he wouldn’t see the crows, staring. He smiled- the pillows were so soft. The caws continued, but the crows were powerless without seeing him.
