Shattered skies

the broken mirror

The sidewalk was so hot that it stung the bottoms of my feet through my thin sneakers, but I didn't care. I was too busy skipping. Each jump made my blonde curls bounce against my cheeks—the bright green streaks that grew right out of my scalp shimmering like emeralds in the sun. Mommy always told people it was just a "playful dye" she let me have for my 7th birthday, but I knew the truth. It was just me. Mommy said I was special, but she also said it was our secret.

​"Look, Mommy! Look!" I pointed a sticky finger toward the sky. High above the oak trees, a big, fat cloud was drifting along. "It’s a puppy! See? He’s wagging his tail at us!"

​Mommy laughed, and it sounded like the little silver bell on my bicycle. She looked beautiful in the dappled sunlight, her sundress fluttering in the breeze that smelled like the honeysuckle growing over the neighbor’s fence. "it does look like a puppy, Bri-Bri. Maybe he’s looking for a treat."

​I took a giant, messy bite of my strawberry ice cream cone. It was melting fast, pink drips racing down my wrist and making my skin sticky. "He can have some of mine," I giggled, reaching my cone up toward the blue sky.

​The world felt peaceful and safe, like a beautiful dream I never had to wake up from. The oak trees were swaying like they were dancing to a song only they could hear. I was halfway through a skip, mid-air and weightless, when it happened.

​Ring. Ring. Ring.

​The sound of Mommy’s phone didn't just break the quiet; it sliced through the peaceful evening. I landed hard on my heels, turning to look at Mommy. She stopped, too. She pulled the phone from her pocket and pressed it to her ear.

​She didn't say hello. She just stood there, frozen. I watched her face turn from a happy pink to a dull, chalky gray. Her eyes went wide and glassy, staring at something far away that only she could see. On the other end of the line, I could hear a tiny, tinny sound—a voice, low and rough like grinding stones. I couldn't make out the words, but the sound of it made the hair on my arms stand up.

​"How did he...?" Mommy finally whispered. Her voice broke in the middle. "How did he find out?"

​She didn't wait for an answer. Her hand started to shake—a hard, violent tremble that made her wedding ring clink against the back of the phone. Her fingers just gave up. The phone slipped, clattering against the cracked cement. The screen spider-webbed into a hundred sharp pieces, but I could still hear that low, gravelly mumble coming from the broken glass on the ground.

​Mommy didn't pick it up. She just grabbed my hand, making me drop my ice cream. Her fingernails dug into my skin, and her eyes were wide and white, like a horse that’s seen a snake.

​"We need to go home, Brianna," she said. Her voice wasn't a bell anymore. It was like a jagged piece of ice. "Now."

​She didn’t wait for me to answer. She pulled me along the sidewalk, my feet stumbling to keep up. I looked back at my ice cream cone laying face down, melting just like our evening. Why was Mommy so scared?

​When we got to the house, Mommy burst through the front door, dragging me along behind her so fast I almost tripped over the welcome mat. She slammed the door behind her, but she didn't stop to catch her breath. She just let go of my hand and flung her keys; they hit the wooden kitchen table with a heavy thud and a loud, metallic clatter, sliding across the surface until they nearly fell off the other side.

​The sound made me jump. She didn't even look at me. She ran to the closet, pulling a faded bag from the top shelf. She started throwing things in—my socks, her sweater, a hairbrush—but her hands were shaking so bad she kept dropping them.

​I stood by the kitchen table, staring at the keys. I felt small, like the walls were leaning in toward me. "Mommy?" I whispered with a shaking breath. My voice felt dusty. "Are we going on a trip? Is daddy coming with us?"

​Mommy froze. She looked up from the bag, and for a second, the panic in her eyes cleared. She saw me—really saw me—standing there shivering. Her face softened, but still looked sad.

​"Oh, Bri-Bri," she breathed. She rushed across the floor to the toy bin, dropping to her knees. She pulled out Mr. Grumbles. He was missing an eye and his gray fur was matted from too many hugs. He had been my best friend since birth.

​Looking at my stuffed animal with a sad look, standing up, she pressed the wolf against my chest, her fingers lingering on my arms for a heartbeat.

​"Here, sweetheart," she whispered, tucking a stray blonde hair behind my ear. Her touch was cold and wet. "Hold onto him tight. He’s going to go on an adventure with us, okay? Can you be a big girl and keep him safe for me?" She asked trying to soothe my fear.

​I nodded, burying my nose in Mr. Grumbles’ familiar, dusty scent. For a tiny second, the world stopped spinning. The only sound was the ticking of a clock on the wall.

​Sighing with a tiny bit of relief, Mommy turned to start packing again. But then, the front door didn't just open—it exploded against the walls, shaking the house, the wood screaming as it splintered. Daddy stood in the wreckage, his face a mask of fury. His eyes, which usually crinkled with laughter, were narrow slits of dark glass. I flinched, the air in the room suddenly feeling too heavy to breathe, and crushed Mr. Grumbles against my chest until his plastic eye poked my arm.

​My two uncles stepped over the broken door behind him. Uncle Bo, with his broad, tree-trunk shoulders and the dark tattoo snaking up his arm, looked at me. He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Come on, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and steady. "Let's go play a game in the other room."

​I tried to pull back, my sneakers scuffing against the rug. "No, no, no! Why is Daddy mad at Mommy? I want Mommy. I'm not going!" I whimpered, but his grip on my hand was like a metal cuff—gentle, but impossible to break.

​They led me to the living room while Daddy grabbed Mommy by her arms and dragged her to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I sat on the edge of the sofa, the muffled sounds from the bedroom tearing through the walls. Daddy’s voice was a low, predatory growl that made the floor vibrate, while Mommy’s voice sounded like a tiny bird beating its wings against a cage. I buried my face in Mr. Grumbles’ matted fur, wishing I could turn into a shadow and vanish.

​Then, the house went deathly quiet. No shouting. No crying. Just the frantic, shallow sound of my own breath.

​The door creaked open. Daddy stood there, his face chalky and drawn, looking like a stranger wearing my father’s skin. "Brianna," he said, not using my nickname, his voice rough, like stones grinding together. "Would you like to go for a walk? We can go look at the stars. To your favorite spot. The cliff that overlooks the lake."

​my uncles exchanged a look that made my stomach turn. Uncle Dan leaned in, his voice a ghost of a whisper. "Are you sure, boss? The gods... they won't forgive this. She’s your blood, Silas. No matter what she is."

​A cruel, jagged smile twisted Daddy’s lips. "They should thank me for correcting this mistake."

​I didn't understand what he meant, but the mention of the lake made a tiny spark of hope light up in my chest. I nodded quickly, wanting to be away from the smell of the broken door and the sadness in the air. Daddy nodded and told my uncles to make sure Mommy didn’t leave. Looking back at our house, I wondered why Mommy wasn't allowed to come with.

​As we walked into the woods, the cool night air bit at my skin. Daddy didn't hold my hand; he just walked ahead, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight. The "walk" felt wrong. A lead weight settled in my chest, making every breath feel like I was inhaling water.

​"Tired, sweetheart?" Daddy asked. The gentleness in his voice felt like a trap, oily and fake.

​I nodded, my legs feeling like lead. When he scooped me up, I tried to find the familiar warmth of his chest, clutching my stuffed wolf and waiting for the world to make sense again. The rhythmic thud-thud of his heart against my ear lulled me into a heavy, dark sleep.

​I awoke with a jolt.

​The air was screaming. I wasn't in his arms anymore; I had been tossed onto the very edge of the cliff. The wind howled past my ears, threatening to push me over the drop. I looked up, reaching out a hand, but Daddy was standing a few feet away. He looked like a giant against the stars, his face dark and scary.

​"Abomination," he spat.

​The word wasn't a name; it was a death sentence. He stepped forward and kicked me hard in the tummy. Pain flared, white and hot, as I was sent flying backward. I felt the ground vanish. I was falling, Mr. Grumbles slipping from my arms as we tumbled into the empty air. The wind screamed in my ears.

​All I could think was, Why? What did Mommy and I do to deserve this?

​Suddenly, a blinding flash of light ignited the sky. The air turned to ozone, tasting like pennies and scorched hair. A wall of white-hot heat slammed into me mid-air, searing my skin as if the sun had reached down to grab me. A blood curdling scream tore its way from my throat , shattering my world into a million agonizing shards.

​Then the darkness surrounding me —it didn't just catch me. It ate me whole.

​In another world, a mother werewolf, her silver fur shimmering in the moonlight, watched her pups play beneath a willow tree. Three moons—one silver, one blue, and one a deep blood red—bathed the forest in a lavender hue, casting long, ethereal shadows that danced among the ancient trees. Peace and tranquility reigned supreme, the only sound the soft yaps of the pups and the rustle of the willow branches.

​Suddenly, a strange stillness washed over the forest. The birds went silent. The pups stopped their tumbling, their ears swiveling toward the deep woods. The air grew heavy and thick, charged with a sharp, metallic energy that made the mother wolf's fur stand on end.

​A violent tear appeared in the sky, a jagged crack of white-hot light that bled ozone into the sweet-scented forest. A scream followed, high and terrified, echoing through the trees until it was abruptly cut short by a heavy thud that shook the earth.

​The once peaceful forest now shattered, like a pebble dropped in still water.

​The mother wolf stood, a low growl vibrating in her throat. The scent hitting her nose was wrong—it smelled of burnt sugar, scorched hair, and a fear so cold it tasted like ice. She nudged her pups toward the safety of the hollowed willow and began to move toward the clearing where the strange light had fallen.

​She didn't know it yet, but the falling star that hit the forest was about to change their lives.