The Glass Stone

20 min readMar 27, 2022

Meghan is a writer who has left England to retreat to the Mediterranean over the bleak wintry months in search of inspiration. At first it goes well, but she soon loses her focus and she becomes consumed by the nagging frustration caused by her inability to create.

That is until she meets Fernando. Neither of them speak the other’s language but they both feel a connection, and as electric passion passes between them Meghan finds a new source for her creative juices to flow.

Written by Odette Haynes
Published by

A warm Mediterranean breeze washed over the lake and tickled Meghan’s skin. The sun was hanging high in the sky and it bathed the world in golden brilliance, but Meghan was sheltered in shadow as she sat underneath a canopy. She wore a loose white top and a flowing white dress, which fluttered as the breeze teased her.

She wiggled her toes and stretched out her bare legs, enjoying the sensation as her skin tingled underneath the gentle touch of the summer wind. She was sitting at a desk. To her left hand side was a big pile of paper anchored by an ornamental stone. It was grey and rough but it contained flecks of glass which glistened in the sunlight.

To her right was another pile of paper, this pile was blank and it was held down by an assortment of things. Just beyond that was a glass of orange juice, and to the side of that was a plate containing a half-bitten piece of toast.

In front of her sat a single sheet of paper. Swirls of ink covered about a quarter of it but the rest was a blank abyss that seemed to be growing and engulfing her. She was transfixed by the emptiness of it, the hollowness and it seemed to represent her soul, as if her whole presence on Earth had been a mistake, a cruel joke and her life was as meaningless as a blank piece of paper. She glanced to either side of her.

As she looked to her left she was filled with pride at the thousands of words she had already written. She had created a universe and weaved a complex tapestry of different lives using only her imagination. It was a world in which life was not built by blood, but by ink. Meghan swelled with immense pride but then she was confronted with the yawning chasm of everything to come.



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