Cracked Like Glass
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E/O Drabble Challenge: word count 100
Challenge word: Curl
Pain splinters me
I am cracked like glass. I taste
salt, my own fear, can save
nothing. Gwen Harwood
In a run down shack, somewhere near Cold Oak…
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Dean was finished.
Gently he placed each newly washed hand onto Sam's still chest; clean now, but the dead skin still grey.
He closed burning eyes against the vivid images assailing him.
Long fingers flashing over a keyboard, their speed and dexterity a reflection of the incisive mind driving them.
Grazed bloody knuckles, broken fingernails touching his ghostly hands over that Ouija board.
Smaller, slender fingers under his, learning to fire a salt-loaded shotgun.
Tiny, chubby fingers that curled instinctively tight round his own, the first time that he met his little brother.
This last memory shattered Dean like glass.
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