Glass (Part 1)
This post is part of an archive. To read the current version, we recommend “Glass (*)”
For many years, Erick toiled in a glass shop under his father’s supervision. He learned everything there was to understand about the ancient art of glass blowing. Just by watching the burning oven, he could determine if the heat was correct. The sand was always properly measured. With skill that rivaled magic, Erick could spin the molten glass while blowing a right amount of air. His creations were smooth and nearly flawless.
The apprenticeship wasn’t easy. Glass is a fickle medium. Imperfections could not be sanded out or painted. It would not bend; if put under pressure it would shatter. Imperfections were common even under a skilled hand. Erick found the skills difficult at first and tried to quit but his father refused to allow him to leave. There were times Erick’s immaturity overcame him and he would purposely quench misshapen bottles.
Everything changed for Erick after his father crafted a special vase for him. Other than a bold streak of violet beginning at the lip and pooling along the base, the vase’s structure wasn’t spectacular but its effect was profound. When he looked into it, his eyes filled with images of wealthy commissions by royal houses. Princes vied for this handiwork; offering him handsome prices. Erick gazed into a future filled with promise and prosperity all because of his keen skills shaping glass. The images were not imaginary; instead they were keen in detail. He saw it once then never again.
The next day the purple was gone and only days later the vase broke. Clear shards covered the floor one moment and in the next they were gone. The broke glass simply dissolved. It was as if the earth simply absorbed them.
From that hour on, the boy worked tirelessly to master his craft. He accepted his father’s training with zeal. In time, he surpassed his aging father and became a true master in his own right. And yet, he was never able to add to understand the magic allure his father’s work. Some claimed to see the future in them and were called mad. Erick didn’t doubt them but didn’t share the vision he once had with anyone, even his father.
“Erick, come.” His fathers worn, scarred hand took Erick’s shoulder and pulled him aside. “I have something I need to show you before the sands of time drag me under. Follow me to the back room where we store the sand.”
Both men entered a dark storage room. Coal was heaped to one side and sandon the other. The floor was smudged black and worn smooth from years of shoveling fuel into a small kart and wheeling it toward the furnace. Long, iron clamps and other tools hung from thick rafters.
“Take the sand shovel and move the entire pile near the door. There’s something underneath you should know about.”
“What is it father?”
“Time, distilled and tangible. Hurry, we must do this before your mother or sisters come back from the common.”
Erick’s back and arms were sore from the day’s work but found new life with such an unexpected prospect. His shovel didn’t slow or tarry until bulk of the sand was shifted close to the door.
With the last few scoops, Erick finally found something unusual. Near the rooms corner, built into the floor was a door less than two feet square. Along one side the top of an iron ring poked through the sand. Erick tossed the tool aside. His finger dug out sand inside the ring and he lifted. It took some effort before the he was able to pry the door free from the sand that had wedged between it and the rest of the floor. Inside was a square gold plate. It was engraved and each corner was being bit by what Erick believed were small snake heads.
“Lift it out. There’s much more than you can see from above.”
Erick wrapped his fingers around the edge of the gold plate and lifted it out. There was something heavy attached. As it emerged from the hole, Erick finally grasped what he was holding. It was a massive hourglass almost three feet tall fitted with solid gold. The inner orbs were fashioned from crystal and clear to near invisibility. Sand, almost as warm and deep yellow as the gold, filled both hemispheres. Even now, it trickled silently into the lower half. The rods that affixed both the top and bottom plate were shaped into long snake coils with the heads biting into the top plate.
“Father! This is a marvel! It must be worth five times what we could make in a year! Where did you get it? Why did I not know about this earlier?”
The old man’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t know how our ancestors came to possess it. I was told angels owned it a tool taken from the heavenly realms and lost to men. Angels and demons should be able to read it but it is beyond human understanding.”
“How long does it last? It was still pouring when I pulled it out.”
“No one knows. It will not flip. A force binds it and keeps it upright. Is it set to run out at the end of the age? Possibly the final judgment? Sand just continues to run from the top to the bottom.”
Erick wiped a little grime from the top of the hourglass. “What does this say?” He tried reading the script but he didn’t recognize the characters.
“It’s an angelic language. I think the top portion reads, ‘Enta Socumal Demapola.’ Don’t ask me what it means. Now set it on the edge of the crate over there.”
Erick lifted the heavy treasure and heaved it onto the wooden surface. He balanced one side against the crate and he continued to hold the opposite side up.
The old man reached underneath and slid something aside. “There is a movable plate on the bottom. If you try hard enough, you can move it slightly to one side. A trickle of sand will escape. It isn’t much but if you’re patent you can capture enough to work with.”
“Work with!?” Erick finally understood the implications of such magical sand. “You have fashioned glass from it?! What happens!?”
“I think you know.”
May 3rd, 2009 at 12:56 am
This is beautiful, magical, well-written… You can see the images as you read…
May 3rd, 2009 at 1:20 pm
intriguing
you’re able to paint a picture with your writing
May 6th, 2009 at 9:29 am
good work! I need to keep reading though…