The Glass Jar
There are prisons not made of stone. And traps so quiet, they teach you to fight your kin.
In a clearing far from the well-worn paths of the Kingdom of Trade, Raven came upon a strange sight. There, nestled in a patch of brittle grass and caught in the pale arms of afternoon light, sat a glass jar.
It shimmered like a fallen star, but its beauty was a cruel disguise. Inside, a knot of crabs scuttled over one another, claws scraping, shells clacking in a frantic rhythm. Whenever one crab managed to climb near the rim, another would seize its leg and drag it back down into the tangle below. It was not malice, only desperation, none could rise without the others falling.
Raven tilted her head, watching.
The jar was too small. Too smooth. Too clear. It did not belong to the forest or the river, nor to the crabs. This was something placed, not grown. A trap masked as a vessel.
She stepped closer, talons silent on the dust. The jar didn’t move. Raven pressed her shoulder against it, pushed with her wings, jostled it with her beak. Still it held firm, as if welded to the very earth. No roots clung to it, no vines, no hands, but it would not budge.
Raven cawed once, sharp and startled.
She remembered the feeling of being trapped in a shape not her own. Of clawing upward only to be pulled back down by those afraid to be left behind. She saw herself in the frantic legs, in the invisible walls, in the weight of too many stories fighting for breath.
She hopped back and sat in silence.
The wind rustled the tall grass, carrying no answers.
Raven did not peck again at the jar. She did not rage or cry. Instead, she stood still, wings folded close, heart heavy. There are prisons not made of stone. There are traps so quiet, they teach you to fight your kin.
“I cannot free you,” she whispered, the words tasting like salt. “But I see you.”
And sometimes, that was all she could offer.
Raven turned and took flight, the sky vast and pale. Behind her, the jar caught the last gold of the sun, and the crabs kept climbing.
© 2025 Sarah Dooley. Story and images by the author. All rights reserved.
