Glass House

Today, we Friday Fictioneers can thank our Fairy Blog Mother, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, for the photo prompt. Thanks, Rochelle.

They said people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.
But our glass house, with its eccentric angles and high ceilings, was so perfectly beautiful
we felt above everyone else and threw stones with such fury no one knew when to duck.
Our stones consisted of angry words tweeted and Facebooked across the net,
leaving no need to own what we did. Times were glorious. We had such power.
Slowly they figured out where the stones originated.
Their revenge was quick and thorough.
Now our house is made of steel with perfectly formed angles
and bars across the door.
(100-words)

Glass House

Today Pegman took us to North Pole, Alaska where they have what looks like a wonderful ice carving festival. It was there I found my “glass” house. As always, thank you for reading my work. Happy Holidays!

If you look closely you will see our Betsy standing beside the sink, wearing his favorite pink chiffon dress, blonde hair done just right – just the way he likes it.
He is coming up the front steps, his briefcase filled with office papers. You will notice the leather is polished to a high shine, as are his shoes and short black hair.
The children are upstairs, coloring. Do you hear a word from them? You’d better not. For he likes to see five-year-old Annie in frilly dresses and three-year-old Tommy in stiff, dark suits, sitting quietly. Very, very quietly.
When our Betsy hears his key in the lock, she fills his tumbler with two well-measured jiggers of Scotch whiskey and pours it over ice. But tonight’s drink will be special, it’s their anniversary, after all. She empties a small bottle of aconitine into his glass and stirs.

An InLinkz Link-up

https://static.inlinkz.com/cs2.js