Writing Craft (a 100 word story)

Tim looked at the shards and fragments of his many broken story ideas.  He poked through their remains.  Each was as pretty as a stained glass window, but every time he tried to hang one on a sheet of paper they would come crashing to earth.  Now they were just jagged pieces of color.

He almost just threw it all away when he had a thought.  He began to nudge the pieces together and laying new prose as the glue.  Soon a new, even more vibrant, picture began to emerge.

Tim wondered if that is why they called it craft.

 

Image: ilovemyburg.files.wordpress.com/2013/06/zn-stained-glass-pieces.jpg

Shattered (an acrostic poem)

Shards fell from the mirror frame

Here goes seven years of bad luck

And yet Liz saw this as an opportunity

Too often lately life had attacked her

Tommy died in the motorcycle accident

Eventually she had lost the house

Recovering from the depression was almost the worst part

Even now it peaked out from behind her eyes, but she blinked it away

Deftly she scooped up the shards and arranged them artfully to reflect her new life