Other Side of the Glass

wrote it for the fun writing prompt challenge 2

On the other side of the glass is a boy I love. I meet him here in the middle of the world when life is hard to manage. He seems to understand me more than anyone has before although we are from two different worlds. I look into his world and see a picture of the past. Greenery, blue skies, and the red blush of his cheeks. My cheeks are covered in ash like the cracked ground underneath my feet. The sun is a terrible bleeding tyrant. I cover my face with the back of my arm to get away from it, hide in dark caves when that doesn’t work. My lips are flaky from the dry air. There’s nothing I can do about it, but he says it doesn’t matter.

“I like that you’re different from other girls,” he says. “Other girls need this and that, but all you could ever need is right there on you.”

He pointed to my clothes and my side bag. The funny thing was he couldn’t be any more wrong. Those other girls, the girls that lived for the sunshine, were everything I wanted to be. Everything I used to be. I vaguely remembered a time when I did cartwheels across the lush lawn. Sprinklers running for hours and neighbors waving at each other from across the street. That was before the sun got hotter and burned up most of the city. Now I had no time for vanity. I have to survive is my own mentality, but there are things I’d rather be doing.

“So you like me because I’m easy,” I say, jokingly.

He laughs and it sounds like a forbidden melody. “No it’s not that. It’s just… they’re so full of themselves. You’re not. You think about your brother and how to keep him safe.”

“If I don’t, who will? It’s every man for himself here.”

“Same on my side.”

There is silence as our similarities set in.

“What’s it really like in there,” I ask. My back is to the glass wall, so I stare at the nothingness around me. Beside me is a dying tree. Too weak to stand up that it leans forward like it might fall. My head turns to my left. I see a bit into his world. Beside him is a tree that I swear is what the Tree of Life looked like those thousands of years ago in Eden. I feel so close but far away from it.

“The air isn’t as polluted as yours. Uh, the weather’s nice. I guess,” he stumbles to interpret his environment to me.

“I bet. You’re living in paradise in there, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t say paradise per say. I hate it when it’s sunny. Makes me feel hot and sticky.”

“Pretty sure hot and sticky aren’t really much to complain about.”

“It is to me. You don’t understand, I get very sweaty. Sometimes I smell bad.”

“So not impressed. Do you have cancer over there yet,” I ask. There is a long pause.

“Cancer? Um is that when the grass gets brown patches?”

I scoff. “You wish!”

He sighs. “Just tell me what it is.”

“You’ll find out sure enough,” I tell him.

“Tell me now.” There is a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Why should I? No one told us what would happen back then? We figured it out all on our own.”

“It’s the right thing to do. If you knew your grandma was dying, wouldn’t you tell her?”

I can barely remember what she looks like. It was so long ago. I can’t even remember how she died. I know I cried the day she did because every time I say her name my heart crumbles up in its cavity. I guess I still miss her.

“So are you going to tell me,” he asks.

I’m silent for a while. How should I break the word to him?

“It’s a disease. You can catch it from so many things. The sun included.”

“I knew it,” he bursts out.

I look at him in speculation.

“I mean I knew the sun was bad for me…. How many people died from it?”

“Too many.”

“Is there a cure to it?”

“Don’t know.”

“Well, that sucks….”

We sit there for minutes not speaking. I take a moment of silence for the dead. He sits there.

Soon I see our Suns dipping. We face the glass, face each other.

“Good night,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

I like that he is unsure of my survival, that he understands things aren’t forever. We aren’t forever. I like that he understands death.

“Hopefully,” I say. “I think so.”

We stand up and walk the trail of the boardwalk to our respective homes. His suburbia. My caves. On one side of him there is an ocean and seagulls. On my other side there is sand.

I don’t really know why I love him, but it must be because he is a snapshot of how things once were. He isn’t depressed; he is very happy. But he will outlast me. I know this.

Author's Note

what do you think?

Reviews

[Briana O'Connor]

Oh this is just suck a great little tale. So entrancing, so mysterious. I was left wondering, though. There were things not quite clearly explained. There is so much more this piece could bring. Try explaining how she is seeing into another world, how they met, ect...This is a brilliant idea. I love your creativity and the way your words flow poetically, even when writing in a story format. Very well done.

[Regina K. Pride]

Thank you. Yeah, I was thinking about expanding this idea but now I know what to add thanks so much!