Wicked Flair

I always believed life and love followed the shape of an hourglass. Wide open with possibility at birth, difficult and treacherous in the middle and abundant with joy and freedom at the end.
As odd as it has been, my journey resembled that formula–until it didn’t. My saga, mine and my family’s, is not so simple. Right when I thought we were safe, monsters beaten and enemies destroyed, our passage burst apart. Dozens of glass tunnels branched in every direction–so very similar to the twisted, gnarled roots of an old swamp tree that disappear into black water and emerge far away, in the most unexpected locations. Their hidden time mutates–evolves their texture, color and their true essence forever.
Our hourglass must have been hand blown by an devious artist. A genius with vision, creativity and more than a trace of wicked flair.

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