A girl was born with a weak heart. Her skin was pale blue, and her fingers and toes were cold to the touch.
The girl lived in a remote village. There was no medical care, except for the midwife who’d delivered her, and certainly no one qualified to repair the girl’s heart. The closest thing to an artisan was the glassmith, who mostly made windows. The glassmith knew the girl’s parents, because everyone knew everyone, and he listened with concern when they visited his studio.
“Our daughter needs a new heart,” her father said. “Can you make one?”
By now the girl was old enough to sit quietly as the adults spoke. Her lips were purple, the glassmith observed. She wore mittens and a scarf, even though the studio was uncomfortably warm, and still she looked cold.
The glassmith and his guests were surrounded by baubles. These trifles didn’t serve any purpose other than being beautiful. They were pink and orange shapes that had visited the glassmith in his dreams. No one had ever asked to buy them, nor was he keen to sell them, though this, he thought, would be a different endeavor—a bauble shaped like a heart.
“Yes,” the glassmith said. “I can do it.”
And so he did.
First the glassmith studied a pig’s heart, which he acquired from the butcher. He was confident that the same number of atria and ventricles would be present in a human heart. Of course the girl would require new and larger hearts as she became older, but this was an opportunity for him to improve his craft. At all times he was aware that her life depended on him.
His only concern was that her heart might break. Glass was more fragile than flesh and bone. If she was treated poorly, or if she wasn’t sufficiently careful, her new heart would be liable to crack, and even the smallest splinter could be fatal. Her final moments would be spent in agony.
“You, more than anyone else, must protect your heart,” the glassmith warned her. “To have a long and healthy life, you must be safe.”
The first time her heart was damaged was because of a boy. By then the girl was an adolescent, very nearly a young woman. The boy had whispered sweet things to her and proposed a future together, but later his feelings had soured and he’d made rude comments to his friends. When those statements had reached the girl, she’d winced. She’d felt a pain in her chest and had gone to see the glassmith, who’d confirmed that her heart was under abnormal strain.
“Will all boys be cruel?” she asked.
“Cruel?” he replied. “No, but all boys are stupid.”
“Then I won’t trust my heart to another boy,” the girl resolved.
The second time her heart was hurt was because of a girl—a woman, really. By then some years had passed. This woman had loved the girl and valued her, but had found fault with her meekness. She’d demanded a bolder lover. When the girl had failed to meet the woman’s expectations, she’d experienced a familiar pain. There’d been a grinding in her chest and she’d gone to see the glassmith, who’d confirmed that her heart was at risk.
“Will all girls be this difficult to please?” she asked.
“I haven’t met all girls,” he said. “At least they’re better than boys.”
The girl was vexed. “All this time,” she complained, “why has no one wished for a normal heart? Not you, not my parents—not even me! If wishes sometimes come true, and people wish for ridiculous things, why not a better solution?”
The glassmith nodded. He looked down at his feet, then up at the ceiling, where his baubles hung like comets in the sky.
“You see my art?” he asked the girl. “Each one came to me in a dream. I woke with a different shape or color in mind and then tried to make it, and each time I failed. Each one is a failure—the wrong color, the wrong shape. It’s very frustrating. It makes me want to smash them all to pieces, but I don’t. Instead I put them up for people to enjoy.”
“That’s your explanation?”
“Why wish for a normal heart?” the glassmith mused. “Won’t you still feel frustrated?”
About the Author
Jamie Yourdon, a freelance editor and technical expert, received his MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Arizona. He lives in Portland, Oregon, with his two children. FELAN’S FABLES will be available from Northport Press in March 2026.
