“They’re beautiful,” the girl said about glass roses arranged in a crystal vase.
“Thanks,” he said. “I grew them myself.”
“But these aren’t real roses, they’re glass,” she said.
“They were real once,” he explained. “I developed a process that enables me to transform living things, like these roses, into glass in order to preserve their beauty forever.”
“Do you have other things you’ve turned to glass?” she asked.
“Oh yes.” Opening up a cabinet, he showed her a glass spider, bee, and snake. Then he went to the closet. “And here’s my daughter,” he said. “She was about your age.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s photo is Rochelle’s.