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Glass Final Poll


Glass Final Poll  

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Glass Final Poll

 

Vote here for your favorite Glass story. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 17th at 11:59 PM PST. The entry with the most votes will be the winner of the Glass theme and will then be either judged or polled against the winners of the other themes.

 

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Choice #1:

 

"Hard to Break"

"It's easy to break a promise..."

"No come on, I did my best to get the cup for you and I di-"

"You were in the restaurant! How could you forget?"

"I didn't! Hear what I'm trying to say. I got a whole story for you."

"…spill!”

***

He sighed, taking another swig of his pint of Guinness. They were in an Irish Pub, a special Irish Pub, that Alex and Mitch had decided to stop at. Alex lowered the drink to the bar. Out of all the places he'd visited while in the Big Apple, the Empire State Building, China Town, Times Square, and wherever else Mitch wanted to take him, this bar was high on the priority list.

However, as he stared down at his buffalo chicken pizza, which was nasty with all the added blue cheese and celery in it, he hung his head.

"We look like a gay couple, wearing matching plaid shirts..."

"Hmm," Mitch correctly responded.

His friend gave him a side glance.

"I don't care what other people think..."

"Harder to pick up girls if we're giving the wrong impression."

"Let's just get the cup and leave..." Mitch said in his easy voice. He had a casual demeanor. "...it's been ten minutes. Go find the guy."

Alex ran his hand through his hair. They'd been here for an hour now. The meal had been okay, but nowhere near the great pizza that New York usually offered. But the service... had been horrible.

"This cup, does your sister care about it that much?"

Alex looked at his unfinished beer.

"She doesn't get to come with me on these trips anymore. She's got too much work to do, responsibility, the kids."

He paused, lost in thought for a moment.

"…And so the last time she was here, years back, she talked about how she wanted the glass pint. These glasses in our hands that say, "I'm gonna make it, anywhere". But we never got it."

Mitch lightly laughed, with a rare smile on his face.

"Bah... I just love her, you know?"

Alex felt a firm grip on his shoulder. "Yeah, I know." Mitch looked him in the eye, and nodded. They both smiled in their plaid shirts, thinking it’d been a good day to wear them.

***

"Eventually our server came by, and when we told him about the glass, he told us that because he ruined my pizza by adding all the extra toppings, that we could just walk out with the glass when he wasn't looking..." He hadn't told her all the details about their trip at the bar, or at least not the parts that were mentioned about her.

"You can't do that..."

"Well that's what I told him! I'm like ... 'So you mean steal it.' and Mitch is just staring at the guy like he's an cool dude... So we told the manager about how terrible the guy's service was... guess what happened?"

"He gave you the glass?"

"Yeah. But first he fired the server. Told us he had gotten a lot of complaints and was giving his friends free food. Anyway, we got your cup... well...”

***

The breaking of glass hit the cement floor of the subway station. Just for a second, the people rushing by all stopped and took one moment out of their busy lives to see what had broken. The two young men just stood there in disbelief.

"I... I …" Alex fumed.

Mitch reached down and started picking up the main piece with the handle. It was ultimately unusable. A middle aged woman, who stood near Alex, muttered a sorry before continuing on her way.

"She bumped into me."

"It's alright, pal. Come on..."

"She's gonna hate this."

"Nah."

"It's not worth giving it to her now." Alex held half the glass in his hand.

"Yeah it is."

"Can't drink from it, just half a mug of glass... part of the quote's missing too." He said, dishearteningly.

"Yeah. But give it to her... alright?" His friend took the glass from Alex's hand, and inspected it. "I think what’s left is good enough."

***

"'Gonna make it,'" she read aloud. A small smile crept on her face as she looked at the glass that was taken from her brother's bag. She pulled her hair back and let out a choked laugh. She did like it. And somehow it was just what she wanted.

"Thanks..." she whispered under her breath, as she moved forward and hugged him.

--------------------------------------

Choice #2:

"Windows to the Soul"

 

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. How do I know that? Um, because it was in an old book of Foxtrot comics I have laying around somewhere. Jason and Marcus are building a giant T-Rex or something and they need to study Paige’s eyes to figure out how to make it look evil. Kinda funny how things like that stick with you, huh?

 

But yeah, that’s what I was thinking about now, for some reason, as I sit here, bored, a bit apprehensive, too, for some reason. Idly I pick up my pencil and flip it around between my thumb and forefinger; its ends fly back and forth like a seesaw on stimulants. I barely notice the action, barely notice anything, really, as I just sit here in class, waiting for something to happen.

 

Well, okay, there’s something I notice, namely the girl sitting one row right, one seat forward. Hard not to notice her, really, at any given time. For a second my gaze lingers on the back of her head before flitting over to the window. Not much to see outside. A tree. Must be a bit of a breeze ‘cause the leaves are shaking a bit. The glass could probably use some cleaning.

 

My glasses could do with cleaning themselves, now that I think of it. I slide them off, turn up the corner of my shirt, wipe off the dust. Glance down at my paper as I do so; everything looks right. Except for number 6, which could really be one of two answers, and whichever I pick’ll undoubtedly be the wrong one. Oh well.

 

I fish a sheet of paper out of my backpack; might as well get some writing done. Writing about, um, um… Yeah I don’t know. Maybe I’ll draw something. Predictably, a couple seconds later, “something” has amounted to a few random lines. I slide the paper beneath my book. Back to pencil-flipping.

 

My forefinger slips and the pencil falls next to her desk. Wordlessly she reaches down, grabs it, hands it to me. For the briefest of moments I can see her eyes.

 

Windows to the soul.

 

Then I blink and take the pencil. “Thanks.”

 

She turns back around. “You’re welcome.”

 

I slide the paper back out and try again to think of something to write. Still nothing, surprise surprise. But for some reason that’s not quite as annoying as it was a few minutes ago.

--------------------------------------

Choice #3:

"City of Glass"

The skyscrapers pierce the azure sky, rising until up and up even after they reach the clouds, going up and up thousands of stories tall, up--up, always extending.

The City of Glass. The Kingdom of Skyscrapers. Skyscrapers taller than any others in the whole universe. They rise, up, up, up--seemingly never ceasing in their elevation. The architecture is magical--fictitious even in this advanced age. It is only when one visits do they finally believe the stories--stories that have been passed on from father to son, from mother to daughter, from grandparents to grandchildren.

It is a legend, surely--a legend and nothing more, they all say. A legend inside the homes of many--until they actually see for themselves. Until they witness the awe-striking, amaranthine beauty.

Walking through the streets, below the alabaster, crystal, glass, emerald, ruby, amethyst, and sapphire towers, one walks in a fantasy. The feeling is like a dream--a dream of imagination and disbelief, where one expects to wake up and discover that it was all fake. Yet none ever wake--for it’s not a dream.

The towers are real. Very, very real. And when you walk up to one, the wall of the building rises farther than you can see. But when you enter it is a different experience entirely. Some are filled with translucent stairways, circling upward and leading to different floors. Some are filled with clear boards, raised by transparent strings, all moving together and shifting here and there in perfect grace, taking people to various floors and rooms, never colliding with one another.

In the heart of the city lies perhaps the most magnificent of them all. A Cathedral made entirely from pure diamonds, as clear as glass, said to rise far above all the others. Yet once again one can hardly believe it, nor can one even confirm the tale as each building rises higher than the eye can see. The top of the Cathedral holds a bell-tower--bells that ring above every other commotion of the city, a magnificent ringing that reverberates throughout the entire planet.

When the bells toll, the whole population stops to listen to the beauty--the sounds that never get old or become any less amazing then the first time one hears them, ringing morning, noon, and night. They are entirely captivating and bewildering, amazing and awe-inspiring, fantastic and fanciful.

They are the Glass City Bells--perhaps even more captivating than the towers themselves, for the pitches and harmonies, tolls and chimes, all create a beautiful symphony.

***

But one morning, the bells miss their toll. The cityfolk slowly stop their work, looking at each other’s watches to make sure the time was right. But the bells never ring, and the first tower falls.

Admist a giant uproar of shards of glass and dust, the Cathedral crumbles, shattering, showering the town with the powder and splinters of broken diamonds. People scream in panic and confusion, shrilling voices piercing the air. Some don't even move as the building falls on top of them, still stuck there unbelieving of what their eyes tell them. In a matter of moments the Cathedral has completely collapsed.

The day ended.

--------------------------------------

Choice #4:

"Children!"

Four little feet pounded on the ground, four little legs pumping like a steam engine, two little mouths puffing like kettles. The little eyes were wide with terror and red with the oncoming wind, and their cheeks were red. Yet still they kept on, their bare feet ruffling the throw rug.
Four more feet rejoined the stampede, a tongue lolled and panted after them. Guilty paws pursued shamed children, spreading dirt down the hallway and shedding hairs on the stairs.
A yowl broke the parade and the cat joined in, pursuing those annoyances, sharp claws longing for the flesh of the loud people
Soon four creatures found themselves in hiding, concealed in a little corner, of a large closet. Clothes hung to obscure their guilt, and tired lungs held their air, silent, ears listening for footsteps. Hearing none, two boys sighed, one dog slobbered, and a cat hissed.
"Is it safe, do you think?"
"I hope so. What should we tell Mommy?"
Two little minds toiled, brainstormed, pondered.
"I know!" Said one, using a blouse to absorb the puddle that pooled beneath a dog's mouth. "Fido did it!"
"Of course!"
Two little boys congratulated themselves on their cleverness while downstairs a mother came upon a mess. With a shake of her head, she called out.
"Boys? Did you break Mommy’s plate? Now, where are you hiding?"
Of course she knew very well where they might be. Two tired feet followed trails of dirt, hair, drool.
“Oh no, she’s coming!”
“Shh!”
Dog and boys huddled as cat licked herself. Stern footsteps approached and stopped. A doorknob turned and breaths were held.
“Where might those boys be?”
A light switched on, more revealing than a prison watch light; a grown-up loomed, taller than the watchtower. Terror wriggled into two little hearts. In times of terror drastic measures must be obtained.
“Oh Mommy, we broke it! We’re so sorry!”
“We didn’t mean to, it was an accident!”
Repented and redeemed, two little boys and a dog ran of, to make more mischief, as mother and cat retired downstairs to put things right.
--------------------------------------
Choice #5:

"Broken Glass"

 

The choices that we make

Determines what is to pass

And when one’s a mistake

It can sting like broken glass

 

The problems people face

Could I solve them, every one?

But much to my distaste

My solutions could solve none

 

I did my best to try

And do right by everyone

But I aimed up too high

And got burned down by the sun

 

I wanted to do well

With my facts and science

But my high ideals fell

And my skills lacked compliance

 

I’d make the world better

But I only made it worse

Now my eyes are wetter

The memory makes me curse

 

It was results I craved

From that one experiment

I wanted to be praised

Oh, I was so arrogant

 

It had started out strong

But I miscalculated

And then it all went wrong

I was far from elated

 

An unwanted flame rose

An explosion did follow

A debris cloud arose

Until my lab was left hollow

 

Beyond my lab, it reached

Spreading toxins in the air

Into water they leached

Spreading poisons everywhere

 

The public was not split

Onto me they placed the blame

My life was now forfeit

My actions brought only shame

 

My lessons has been learned

But it’s too little, too late

My reputation’s burned

I’ve only earned people’s hate

 

A mad scientist, they say

That is what I have become

Now they all stay away

I’m treated lower than scum

 

This world, can I still try

To make it a better place?

Now my hands they do tie

From actions I can’t erase

 

And now I must repent

For my faults and past misdeeds

Now all my time is spent

To find where redemption leads

 

The choices that we make

Determines what is to pass

And when one’s a mistake

It can sting like broken glass

 

--------------------------------------

 

Choice #6:

 

"Just One Hit"

 

“And CRASH!”

 

Crash?”

 

Crash.

 

“Why crash?”

 

“Well, because it breaks, obviously.”

 

“But…why?”

 

“…Because I’m going to hit it.”

 

“I got that part. But why are you going to hit it? And why do you think you can break it?”

 

“Don’t be a moron. It’s just a glass eye. It’s just stupid glass. One hit and it’ll shatter. Crash.”

 

“Okay, stop saying crash, it’s annoying. And putting aside that that’s not what a glass eye is, tell me why you want to hurt Mike.”

 

“What do you mean why? He’s a freak. His eye is creepy, and so is he. You’ve seen the creepy looks that friendless creep gives.”

 

“You’re a moron, Adam. He hurt his eye. He can’t help that you think his stare is creepy.”

 

“Oh, shut up, Dick. That guy has no friends. Nobody cares what happens to him or his stupid glass eye.”

 

“That’s not true at all either. That girl Beth is always with him. She’s been for a while.”

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

“Oh God, is that what this is about? Adam, why do you always do this?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“You beat up Thomas in fourth grade because Liz gave him a hug after he sprained his ankle. Where did that leave you?”

 

“Shut up. That was different.”

 

“And in sixth grade? Seventh? You have been suspended far too much for you to pretend that you don’t have a problem.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“And now you’re going after Mike? What in the world is your problem?”

 

“Shut it! I don’t care what you think. I’m breaking that kid’s glass eye.”

 

“Yes, you do. Say what you will about Mike, but you aren’t surrounded with friends yourself. Who else but me is there? Trevor never forgave you for what you did to his car. Or his sister. Or his cat.”

 

“That guy…was a complete loser.”

 

“And breaking Mike’s eye? It’s not made of real glass, stupid. Even if it were, how in the world does anyone ever think that breaking something inside a guy’s skull would be a good idea?”

 

“It’s just some glass…”

 

“Don’t be a moron. Don’t do anything to Mike. Heck, don’t do anything to anybody. You’re going to end up in real trouble.”

 

***

 

“It was just some glass…”

 

“What the blazes did you do.”

 

“It was only glass...”

 

“What did you do.”

 

“Just…”

 

“I told you not to do anything. And now you’re arrested. What were you thinking?”

 

“Just…glass…”

 

--------------------------------------

 

"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender

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