Shatter

The house was silent, wrapping around Elena like a shawl - a brief moment of respite from the darkness, the depression that breathed in the walls around her. Hugging her knees to her chest, as if wanting to become concave, she watched springtime glow outside the window.

Waiting for the danger to return, Elena watched the butterfly flutter about aimlessly. There was a joy there, she noted, a peace that was ethereal in comparison to the ghost-filled house. The peace wanted her, reached up and beckoned on the tips of the wings of that butterfly.

And then, Elena stopped waiting.

She watched as the window shattered.


Author's Note:
As a writer, I inherently enjoy the "place your ending here" schtiks. Most flash fiction is as such. That said, take from this story what you will.
Okay, you really think I can't stop there? The illusion or reality of being trapped are so similar in both fantasy worlds and real life. They are part of every life. This is more of a preamble: she's trapped, and now she's decided to escape. So the end of my story is the beginning of something far greater. I just let you decide what it is. :p