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literature
Crystal Houses
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Literature Text
The people in crystal houses didn't know that I could see them. Six clear, tiny houses living in oblivious bliss.
I would be lying if I said that I didn't watch them. I watched them day in and day out, I saw them converse, eat, sleep. They were simple people, sipping tea and chatting by the fire for amusement.
After some time, I discovered that I had grown rather fond of them and I gave them all names and stories to go along with the silent little lives that I watched.
Their little isolated world was on display for everyone to see, and they had absolutely no idea.
They were small people, perhaps two inches tall. I could have held their houses in my hands.
They became mine, I held them as a little secret, protected them from a world where anyone else would hurt them.
Their fate was a horrible accident. I wanted to bring them inside, to shelter them from the pain and horrors of the world.
I held a small box and I carefully picked up each house and set it gently inside, the little families just kept to their daily duties as if nothing was wrong. I carefully carried them inside my house to place them on my shelf.
That much I managed. Standing with them at eye level, I arranged their little houses like they had been outside, inspecting my work when I stood up and my shoulder bumped the shelf.
It happened in slow motion like it would in a film. They all looked up from their daily activities and locked eyes with me. I reached out to grab them, but it was all too late.
The tiny glass houses came tumbling down right in front of my eyes. As the crystal hit the ground, the sound barrier broke and their screams and shouts of terror penetrated the silence that I had grown so accustomed to.
I stood, stupefied as they fell to the floor and shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.
Suddenly, everything was silent again.
I fell to my knees, my eyes burning, but not crying as I frantically tried to put everything back together, but it was too late.
With my back arched, I slumped over in defeat.
I would be lying if I said that I didn't watch them. I watched them day in and day out, I saw them converse, eat, sleep. They were simple people, sipping tea and chatting by the fire for amusement.
After some time, I discovered that I had grown rather fond of them and I gave them all names and stories to go along with the silent little lives that I watched.
Their little isolated world was on display for everyone to see, and they had absolutely no idea.
They were small people, perhaps two inches tall. I could have held their houses in my hands.
They became mine, I held them as a little secret, protected them from a world where anyone else would hurt them.
Their fate was a horrible accident. I wanted to bring them inside, to shelter them from the pain and horrors of the world.
I held a small box and I carefully picked up each house and set it gently inside, the little families just kept to their daily duties as if nothing was wrong. I carefully carried them inside my house to place them on my shelf.
That much I managed. Standing with them at eye level, I arranged their little houses like they had been outside, inspecting my work when I stood up and my shoulder bumped the shelf.
It happened in slow motion like it would in a film. They all looked up from their daily activities and locked eyes with me. I reached out to grab them, but it was all too late.
The tiny glass houses came tumbling down right in front of my eyes. As the crystal hit the ground, the sound barrier broke and their screams and shouts of terror penetrated the silence that I had grown so accustomed to.
I stood, stupefied as they fell to the floor and shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.
Suddenly, everything was silent again.
I fell to my knees, my eyes burning, but not crying as I frantically tried to put everything back together, but it was too late.
With my back arched, I slumped over in defeat.
Thank God my notebook didn't die in the fire, or we wouldn't have this piece which I spent the better part of the day on.
What is this productivity?
Quaestiones:
What do you think of the plot?
I attempted to create a sense of nervousness throughout the first part of the piece, did I succeed?
Is it 'eyelevel' or 'eye level'?
Other thoughts and comments?
What is this productivity?
Quaestiones:
What do you think of the plot?
I attempted to create a sense of nervousness throughout the first part of the piece, did I succeed?
Is it 'eyelevel' or 'eye level'?
Other thoughts and comments?
© 2012 - 2024 xthe-eleanorx
Comments12
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Surreal and charming. Good work!. I agree with the comments about it being too simple, like it has some unused potential, but I disagree with that it needs more development. Keep the mystery and the charm please, this is a piece I feel is better devoid of tension, tension is irrelevant to the impact, and the piece would come better of as lightly amusing and thought provoking than thrilling. I think the simplicity stems from the fact that you try to create some tension at the end, while already revealing it a few lines before, (which is a lot in flash writing), instead making the inevitable catastrophe a more cold picturesque wondering pondering thing. Or maybe I'm wrong, anyway I enjoyed it.