Glass (Full Version)

The floor was cold on the girl’s bare feet, and it was of a strange material she had not encountered before, hard as stone, but much smoother. She wrapped her fingers around the leather strap of her canteen and shivered. Everything about the building seemed to be cold. The girl was naked, never having needed clothes, but she suddenly wished for covering. She pulled the cord from her hair and let it tumble onto her shoulders and back to provide whatever warmth it could. The girl’s sense of trepidation had not abated, but the rain was coming down even harder, and lightning flashed across the sky, so she felt that she had no choice but to remain in the house at least until the storm stopped. She held onto her canteen, feeling that setting it down would signify a permanence she wanted no part of in this frightening place. She squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the contents of the room. She recognized almost nothing in the room in the room aside from a few natural elements that had blown in through the broken windows. She walked over to one of the windows and peered out, looking for signs of the sun reappearing. As she turned, she stepped on something hard and sharp on the floor. She cried out in pain and fell. She examined her foot and found that it was bleeding. Less frightened by the appearance of blood than not knowing what had cut her, the girl looked around her for something she could have stepped on. Finally, she found the culprit. She picked it up gently, taking care not to drop it between her slightly shaking fingers. The girl did not recognize the material she was holding. It was clear, hard, cold, and sharp. She squeezed it between her fingers and was amazed at its smoothness. Suddenly a frightening thought occurred to her. Whatever it was could not be natural. She threw it as far away from herself as she could, and it shattered.

“Glass,” came a voice from across the room, a fluid motion low to the ground moved towards her from a dark corner of the room. She felt trapped between the glass on the floor and the new presence and did no more than tremble in fear as the thing approached her. “That’s glass. Where did you come from?”

The girl did not answer; she was completely mystified by the idea of speech having never encountered another intelligent being as herself, yet somehow she understood.

“Speak!” the voice commanded sharply.

“I-I can’t see you,” the girl murmured, her voice coming out in grunts and gasps as she began to use it for something besides her usual laughter or yelling.

“Of course,” the voice said more to itself and its source came into view. A legless creature, long and thin slithered into the girl’s view. The girl gasped as she took its appearance in. Never had she seen something so terribly beautiful. “I am Serpent,” it said. The girl did not think to identify herself as she had never had to do so before. Before she could speak again, the Serpent continued, “So you are girl. Stand up.”

The girl remained sitting, frozen on the ground, amidst the broken glass. She pointed to the floor and shook her head, not trusting her newfound voice over her hands. “Stand up,” the Serpent commanded again. “Just don’t step on it.”

“No,” the girl said, louder than she intended to. “I’m afraid.”

Immediately the Serpent softened its commanding tone. “It’s alright,” it reassured her. “You can just step over it. I won’t let you cut your feet.” Very carefully, the girl picked her way over the glass. “That’s better,” The Serpent said. “Where did you come from?”

“Across the grass,” the girl answered, pointing back the way she had come.

“What are you doing in my house?” asked the Serpent, moving closer to the girl.

“House…” she repeated dumbly; the unfamiliar word was nothing more than air on her tongue.

“House,” the Serpent said. “This place. The place where I live.”

“I’ve always wondered what it was,” the girl began slowly. And I… I just wanted to know.”

They both fell silent for a moment, and the Serpent began to creep forwards, towards the girl. Her eyes were still adjusting to the light, and on the grey floor, the Serpent seemed to be darker than any night the girl had ever seen. She held her breath as it approached her, unsure of its intentions. Suddenly, its head was on her foot. The girl gasped in shock, and looked down. The Serpent felt cold and rough on her skin. It’s tongue flicked out of it’s mouth, and the girl was horrified to see that it was split in two. She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. The Serpent stretched it’s body further around the girl’s leg until it was wrapped around her ankle. The girl did not react; she was both terrified and fascinated by the feel of the Serpent on her skin. It’s body was muscular, and its scales seemed to shift in place, sometimes smooth, and sometimes rough. It continued it’s ascent until it encircled the girl’s thigh. The tip of it’s tail rested on her ankle, and it’s head rested on her hip.

Finally, the girl looked down at it. Against her alabaster skin, she realized that the Serpent was actually a deep blue and its eyes were a liquid-looking onyx. Again, the Serpent spoke, “Why are you naked? Why do you not wear clothes?”

“I have never needed them,” the girl said simply.

The Serpent made a low guttural sound like laughter. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Only here,” she said, shivering at the reminder.

“Put your canteen down and come sit,” the Serpent instructed. It quickly uncoiled itself from the girl’s leg, and it left her with a sense of simultaneous longing and relief.

The girl obeyed, and when she turned back around the Serpent had disappeared to a corner of the room. Unsure of what to do, and afraid of stepping on more glass (or worse) the girl remained where she was, arranging her hair on her shoulders in an attempt to keep warm. Her mind felt fuzzy, and the sensation frightened her because she was usually able to see things very clearly. Living in the wilderness required such clarity. Were she to walk around in a daze, surely danger would befall her. The girl remained where she was, as if confusion had bound her feet together.

Finally the corner of the room in which the Serpent had disappeared was illuminated. There was a small fireplace built into the wall. The girl had seen fire before, but never in this way, behind a screen, not being watched with a careful eye. The Serpent was coiled on the hearth, and in front of it were two cups. “Come,” the Serpent commanded.

Numbly the girl obeyed, placing her toes down first to make sure she knew what she was stepping on. She sat down on the bricks, and watched as the Serpent lapped at the liquid inside the cup closest to it. She picked up the other cup and examined its contents. In it was a thin brownish liquid that the girl had never seen before. “What is it?” the girl asked.

“Tea,” the Serpent answered. “Made from herbs and water. Try it.”

The girl sipped at it and was surprised to find that it was hot. “It’s bitter,” she murmured, mystified. The china cup felt strange against her teeth.

The Serpent looked up at her with its onyx eyes. The girl met its gaze, but the Serpent continued to scrutinize her, and she glanced down, fluttering her eyelids nervously. “You are strange,” the Serpent concluded at length.

It did not occur to the girl to speak; she was too far lost in thought. Something was tugging at the edge of her consciousness, a faint but urgent reminder. Why had she come here? She didn’t feel safe. The Serpent’s gaze obligated her to continue to sip at the tea, but by doing so, she felt sure she was inflicting poison on herself. Why had she come here?

Rain! She had come here to wait out the rain. But how would she know if had stopped? She tried to think, but her own breathing seemed far too loud, and it shook all other thoughts out of her head. Why did her breathing sound that way, anyway? So shaky and fragile as if she had been running. But she hadn’t been. She was afraid, more afraid than she had ever been, and she did not know why. She set the cup down, realizing that her hands were shaking.

The window! She would look out the window and see if it was still raining. The thought pushed it’s way through the haze of the girl’s panicked mind, but she could not seem to turn her head. Why should she? It was too much effort, and to what end? All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep, to drown in herself. She felt so strange, as if she was not herself at all. Finally, her head turned, seemingly of it’s own accord. The sky had cleared. I should go, thought the girl, and the thought seeped out of her mouth in a rattling whisper. “Then go,” the Serpent instructed as if it didn’t care whether she stayed or not.

The girl stood up slowly, not completely trusting her trembling body to obey her. As she did so, the Serpent moved towards her. The girl found herself extending her palm, and the Serpent put it’s head in her hand. It flicked it’s tongue down her wrist, and the girl gasped in surprise. So hot! So sharp! Spasms made their way up her arms and into her shoulders until her whole body was convulsing. Somehow she remained standing and gasped out, “Goodbye,” before she made her way back to the door, not caring if she stepped on glass this time.

Once outside, the girl began to run until her feet the familiar feeling of soft grass welcomed her feet once again. She cradled her hand against her chest like a wounded animal. Memories of where she had just been began to flood her mind. The word goodbye replayed over and over in her mind. She hadn’t intended to say it. She had never even heard it before. “Goodbye,” she said again to herself. The word felt strong on her tongue. The girl took a deep breath, letting the finality of the word encourage her. She walked farther and farther away from the house, resolving never to go back to it again, and not realizing how breakable she really was.