Pieces of a Larger Mirror

By Abigail Smith-Buckle

“If anyone believes they are religious and does not bridle their tongue but deceives their own heart, this person’s religion is worthless.” James 1:26

Not to be read in isolation, or necessarily in order, walk side by side with the narrator as she opens up on issues of childhood experience and race, upbringing and relationships, schooling and culture through a unique lens intended to be merely the beginning of your journey upward, outward, inward. Are you ready to look into the mirror?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398430921

Abigail Smith-Buckle

Abigail Smith-Buckle is a musician from Greater London. This work began to be written at the age of 18; more is available on music platforms.

Book preview

Preface

All she wanted to do was write. It was her only real outlet, her only real escape. It was cathartic, necessary. She knew she ought to be doing other things, attending to arguably more pressing matters but she could not help it. This was the catalyst. Without it, she felt as if there was no next level – trapped inside her own mind and stifled by the lack of movement. She broke through, however. She decided that doing something she loved, something definitive, was better than doing nothing at all. Of course, as she wrote it, she realised how obvious this was. It made sense to her. Probably not to anyone else but at least to her. That was enough.

*It must be written*

Primary

Mostly, she remembered the rain. It was grey, dark, and drizzly. The artificial lights inside the supermarket hummed. Their time was all there was, there was nothing else. She remembered touching his face, as smooth as polished ebony, observing the grooves and contours, the valleys and peaks. His eyes were ones of sadness but she didn’t see it then when she looked into them, she only saw the sea. Of all the days they spent together, that was the only piece she could find. She wondered why this was. Perhaps because that was the last time she ever saw him. One day, what she figured would be a never-ending course, and the next, nothing at all. One meant to be a longer voyage, forced to a sudden halt all too quickly.

Decadence

She wondered if love was overrated. Could she bear to live a life rich in ardour, and poor in wealth? She almost scolded herself, telling herself to behave, to think with her head, and most certainly not her ‘heart’, if that was indeed a thing. She told herself she was selfish. Yet, even with this constant revelation, she didn’t mind. In fact, she embraced it. She wanted something out of this life, all the while knowing it was temporary. If not riches, then fame but she was reasonable, she thought. She didn’t necessarily care for both. In her mind, the notions were valid. While such a mindset could potentially label her as a certain ‘digger of gold’, she viewed it as simply striving towards financial stability. And the desire for recognition? Well, she ascertained that stemmed from a wholesome root and good faith, literally. She noticed then that she didn’t so much care for peoples’ opinions of her opinions but more about realising them. We are often told to be careful what we wish for, that the greener grass doesn’t always flourish into the joy we were so certain it would. She knew though, she was sure. If she rose, she would finally attain resolution to the lack of self-fulfilment that had gnawed inside of her for so long. If not the whole solution, then at least in part. She was happy to engage in one of two past times. Either the cold hard cash is a cold hard logic game or Spacewalkers: Fulfil Your Destiny; it was simply a question of playing chess or Star Wars. Whichever one came calling, she was sure she would be quite content.

The Singularity

She contemplated what the future would hold if she would be around when the immense changes came. She wondered what kind of world her progeny would inhabit, and sometimes, if it were a gift she should even give them. She considered something a girl had told her once, There are seven billion people on this planet, increasing to ten billion in the next few years. Do we really need another? She didn’t like this postulate very much. She figured it was far too detached. Besides, that same girl also told her that human minds crave innovation like a drug, are desperately curious as, ironically, an infant, and deny any suggestion of limitation. She knew the want of descendants emanated from intrigue more than anything else. Was this a good enough reason? She wasn’t sure she cared. This world was created to be destroyed, all things have ends, this is no exception, the girl curtailed. She wondered why this