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In silence the air trembled, every movement caused the table to shutter. Millimeter by huge millimeter I shook towards the edge, this is not direction I would choose to go, if I were actually alive. I am an empty glass, alone, unable to help myself. If I were to fall the pain would last just seconds, for I would be the only one grieving. Then I clattered off the table. The glass spilled into fragments like tiny blades scattering across the floor. The event lasted seconds, but the following trials would last much longer. For if there was not a foolish infant crawling along the floor unable to reason, then a boy would not have to chase after it... but the boy did, and in that same moment glass flipped into his eye. Screaming in agony, the boy fell unto to the floor, his body only met more shards. Sharpened glass hit arteries, a red pool swirled around him. The paler he got the more crimson stained, his body sliced into pieces bled. After mush flailing the glass blades completely disfigured him. He died. Two things gone. The baby startled, as was the mother and the process started over. Please don't leave us on edge, we'll get revenge.

by: Eimile McIlnay 1983