Daily Creative Writing Practice - She Crushed The Glass

My practice of bringing depth to simple sentences...

She Crushed The Glass


In the end, everything gets crushed, everything gets crushed under the perplexity of what we call life.
How the pestle is able to grind away at the chunks of salt, black pepper, and secret spice, represents how scornful lips, loosened fists are able to grind away at even the most loving of hearts.

The pestle grinds away, while the mortar keeps everything in place. The two working in conjunction to produce a fine mix, a mix so fine that when served on a dish it's barely detectable, the only proof of its existence is in the flavours it brings to the mouth, the aroma that enchants the sense of smell. The pestle without the mortar is useless and the mortar without the pestle is worthless. Impractical. Dysfunctional.

The needs for it to be replaced becomes less of a choice and more of a decision of when and how...

A crushed heart eventually becomes replaced by something else... Immaculate red nails that protrude in talon-like shapes over delicate slender fingers, hold on tightly to the black marble of the pestle. The other hand wearing rings of grace and elegance hold with conviction and surprising strength, the base of the mortar. While the hand that holds the pestle continues to grind away at black pepper, grinds away at the salt and grinds away at spice. Spice that cracks under the pressure of a relentless pestle.

But concentration kept high, so as a dish misses not an inch of flavour, sweet aromas mixed with the scent of earthy herbs envelope and mask the senses making sure that this dish will be one to be remembered for a long, long time.



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