Glass (Part 3)
This post is part of an archive. To read the current version, we recommend “Glass (*)”
“Hope.” The word came without thought. It was almost a reaction. “The unrelenting ache of loosing my family has worn into acceptance. It is a bitter acceptance to be sure, but one I can live with. There is hope.”
Erick seemed perplexed, “But what did you see specifically?”
“I saw another man who loves me even more than my first husband and two little girls that follow me around town doing as I do. They kissed my cheek and life is wonderful again they give me hope.” She paused to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I believe this vision. It seems so real! It sings to my soul.”
“Take the bowl. It’s yours.”
That very hour, Erick returned to the back room and began moving the sand aside. “The benefit of time! Imagine! Perhaps the sands will speak to me again blessing me with the wisdom of future experiences! I will try again this time crafting something just for me.”
He removed the large hourglass and again placed it between two stools. The slide on the bottom was reluctant to move but eventually it gave. Bit of glimmering gold began pouring into the tin pan Erick had placed on the floor. It took hours for the sand to finally accumulate enough for even a simple oil lamp globe. Then the sand suddenly stopped. Erick looked under the hourglass to divulge the problem. The plate had moved back into place and this time, would not move.
“A lamp globe it is and a thin one at that.” Erick thought as he replaced the hourglass and the concealing pile of sand. “I’ll make it tomorrow first thing and see what becomes of it.”
Before the sun’s tender yearnings lit the eastern sky, Erick was busy ramping the furnace to its hottest breath. When the radiated heat felt as if it was blistering Erick’s skin, only then did the glass blower begin his work. He spun and spun the thin layer of glass molding in into a shape that was he could nearly make blindfolded. The glass cooled as a common globe open at both ends; one a bit wider than the other with a smooth bulge between the openings.
That afternoon, Erick decided to test his creation. He waited for his apprentice to leave and his shop to empty. He covered the globe with a bit of tattered wool and rode outside of town to a windy rise. He could see the countryside painted green with healthy crops alongside trees scattered into rows and groups. The glass blower took out the globe and held in into the last strands of sunlight. Nothing. There were no colors; no visions. The future did not unfold.
“I don’t understand! How can this be?! I made the globe for my own use. It should work for me.”
Erick waited but nothing happened. The sunlight faded and fell into the night’s dark abyss as Erick stood waiting for the enchanted glass to speak to him. Eventually, Erick wrapped the lamp globe again and traveled back to his shop. He would try again in coming days but each time the glass failed to activate.
Erick did nothing else with the angelic hourglass until a week later. He was frustrated with the results he reaped from the lamp globe. It ended up in one of his cabinets. He had decided to try again. Erick was nearly finished moving the sand when he heard something moving behind him. He spun and a short, round man wearing suspenders and breeches stood next to the coal. The clothing had a very old-fashioned appearance. The man’s mustache was so bushy it almost seemed to grow straight out.
“Who are you?! What are you doing here!?” Erick took his shovel and swung it at the intruder’s head. The man’s hand came up and knocked the shovel away.
“You can’t get rid of me that way.”
“Who are you?”
Erick was offered a smile. “Do you know what Enta Socumal Demapola means?” His voice was quiet but crossed Erick’s ears with authority. “Roughly it means…Time determines men from God. Or more clearly, God’s omnipresence extends even to time while the rest of us are trapped here and now.”
Erick wasn’t dissuaded. “Fine, ignore the question. Now what do you want?”
“I think you know what I’m here for.” The man picked up a piece of coal. It ignited in his hand. “Your purpose with the hourglass has been concluded.” As the man closed his hand, the burning coal crumbled and fell to the floor as ash.
“Wait,” Erick stretched out his arms. “There is so much more to be done. Don’t you realize the good that could be done by letting me use the sand on others behalf. There’s more good to be done! Did you not see what happened to the young widow, the boy, or even to me? I never would have taken up the art without time’s vision!”
“Time like heat changes things. Sand is worthless but with applied heat it is transformed, given shape by the Master, and the finished product is beautiful. Yet it is fragile as well maintained by the Master’s hand and protection.
You cannot know time the way God does and his hourglass does not belong to you. I’m here to take it.”
Erick studied the other man for a moment longer. Anger blazed in his heart. Why would he be given something so precious only to have it taken away? What had he done wrong? When he was told to leave it until Charles died he had done so. Where his intentions not pure? His was a mind that was knotted with questions and no answers.
“Very well! Take it! No doubt, you know where it is!” He marched out of the room and did not look back.
The next day, Erick returned to the back room. Nothing looked out of place. In fact, it looked as if the sand hadn’t been moved at all. He cleared it away and opened the door. There was nothing but shadows inside. The hourglass was gone. He spit into the hole and closed it for good.
That night in their bedroom, Erick’s wife tried to confront him with his anger. “Erick, all day and last night something has bothered you why don’t you tell me what it is?”
She was carrying a candle, which she sat on their nightstand. She took the globe off the oil lamp and lit it with the candle. Then she replaced the globe. Light from the glass globe erupted onto the walls and ceiling.
Erick cried out and covered his eyes but his wife seemed unaffected. She apparently couldn’t see the vast images that played throughout the entire room. “Erick, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
The blinding flashes of colors and now roar of a million voices had Erick crumpled to the floor. “Where, where did you get that globe?”
His wife’s voice broke through the pandemonium. “I broke the old one today and I slipped into your shop to get another. What’s wrong Erick? Tell me.”
After a few moments, the visions faded. Erick reopened his eyes with his wife on her knees beside him.
“Erick, talk to me? What’s wrong?”
He blamed the incident on a sudden headache. It was the best excuse he could conjure.
Erick’s vision completely returned but not his hearing. For the rest of his days, he heard the gentle hiss from an unseen stream of falling sand. He could feel the measured, unalterable passing of time. The actions and words of men were sifted in the sand of eternity. Erick deciphered pointless chatter and saw the end of useless pursuits. Although he could never completely understand God’s hand, Erick could see its actions. The glass blower knew the difference between what was temporary, lasting, and eternal. It was wisdom to rival Solomon’s.
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