Raindrops of Thinking

  - by Blue She moved here in the middle of the semester. No reasons. No warnings. Just a lightning strike that caused a rumble after it flashed a light for everyone to see.  She left a small thunder, not a loud one. So small that I fear I was the only one who heard.  Everyone saw she was there. Everyone was sure she was present in the room somehow. a friend they could always rely on when needed. But it seemed to me that she fit in so much after a brief display of light that no one noticed she was always lurking. Lingering in the corners. Waiting to be called.  But I never forgot that she was in the same space as I was.  Maybe it was because of that thunder I keep rambling on about. A faint sound from a far-off place that humans have yet to see. But I feel that if I listen to it more earnestly, I might see something there. It bothers me that I would be the only one to notice, though. What's so special about me? Nothing.  But I don't wonder that she would be...

  - by blue She never lingered as long as a minute when passing by the mirror situated in the hallway connecting the front door to the living room. Her feet didn't stop their flighty steps when she came by it, refusing to take a single glance at its reflective surface. It helped that the mirror was placed at the top of an antique shelf, with carved out roses and a shiny varnish. That meant all she had to do was remain below. But oh, the temptation! It was time for her early morning walks again. To do that, she had to cross the very same hallway that had the mirror to get to the door and out into the yard. She'd have to leave the cozy safety her velvet sofa provided. But the morning walk was an essential daily routine. The neighbors would have to answer to her as usual, and she couldn't do that while lying inside the house. It would be cowardly of her to yell at them from the glass windows that would probably mute her voice in the end. The risks shouldn't stop her. That ...

by blue  Somewhere in a world unlike our own  lived jars who can talk and jars who can walk. They stood like humans would do, and talked like they were one too. They were peculiar creatures, to us if we'd see. But to each other they weren't that different like you and me. In this town of open jars lived a child who was small Who wasn't like the older jars who lived in town at all. She couldn't reach the tall shelves or the high chairs She couldn't jump that high up either or climb the tall stairs. "Oh, how cute you are, my dear child of clear glass," Her grandmother once remarked as her house she once passed. "It's been awhile since I saw a jar your small height, my dear I would have thought your got taller since your last visit here." "I wished it was so," said she holding back tears "I loathe to be the same height for all of my years." The child fretted and worried and as soon as she did, A liquid glow of something fille...