Iron Quill 2012 (The Starry Road) - Touch of Glass

[Wulfen]

I hadn’t eaten for what felt like several days. Life in Malifaux is hard enough, they say, without an empty pit for a stomach. Turns out the Guild is pretty particular about who they’ll hire, and even that damn Captivating Salvage ran me out of their dive of an establishment.

No skills, some henchmen said. Too thin, not enough muscle. I tried to argue otherwise, but really, he was right. He threw me out pretty easy.

So when the Glass Man showed up with a job, I wasn’t too abashed to say no.

***

“Hey,” a voice whispered, waking me out of a restless, disturbed sleep. I was hiding in one of many dark, twisted alleys, near a nameless brothel that sat at the center of the slums. Too near the quarantine zone for my taste, but I seemingly had little choice. I looked up to see a shadowed form standing over me, faint outline of teeth showing as he smiled.

“Hungry?”

I didn’t answer right away. Hadn’t been too many strangers had even deigned speak to me, let alone offer up food. He must’ve read the desperation in my eyes, or heard the howling of my stomach, because his grin grew wide. His eyes sparkled in the dim light.

“A quick job for me, friend, and you’ll be full,” he said. “Fresh bread, steak, a whole chicken, whatever you want.”

“Who’re you, then?” I asked. “And what sort of job?”

“The simplest kind,” he said. “You may call me the Glass Man.”

He interrupted my next question with his own, the smile suddenly gone cold, his eyes flashing and dark. “Now, you want it, or do I move along, friend?”

I had little option. I nodded in agreement, croaking bellow of my hunger answering in kind.

***

The Glass Man was tall, very tall. He wore a deep overcoat that hid most of his features, and a bowler that reigned in thick, greasy strands of pale hair. He had a thin face, his skin almost ashen, cheek bones protruding from sharp angles. He had a strange smell about him; it didn’t reek exactly, not like the alley and its piles of refuse, but a different, alien smell that I couldn’t quite place.

We walked through the alley and past the brothel, and more besides, stepping over filth and drunken men. Several girls stood outside, beckoning, sensual curves, scars and broken, stained teeth or worse, but the Glass Man didn’t even spare them a look. My gaze lingered until I felt long fingers grab my torn shirt and pull me back to my senses.

“Time enough for that later, friend,” the Glass Man said. Secretly I hoped so. Even in their frazzled, beaten condition, it’d been a long time.

The narrow street wound around to the northwest, shacks, shanties, and decrepit buildings on either side, buried in the darkness and despair of the night in this part of town. We saw few travelers once the brothels disappeared behind us, and the ones that came near quickly passed by once their eyes lit on the tall man beside me. As we walked, I noticed a faint light coming from the Glass Man, from inside his long coat. I felt light, a side queasy, but quickly disregarded the feeling; my hunger and the emptiness of my gut spoke to that.

We made one last turn, past a statue that still stood, its earnest face painted over by the slum’s current inhabitants, a mockery of itself, and then the Glass Man stopped. We stood in front of a home, narrow, with a tall, slanted roof, somehow in much better condition than the ramshackle buildings and sheds that surrounded it. A slender pole stood by the wooden porch, lamp burning brightly, which I found odd. There had been very little light, and no lamps to speak of in the vicinity save this.

“And here we are, friend,” he said, making a grand motion with one hand, in the direction of the home. “My humble abode.”

I put one hand over my stomach, silently praying it wouldn’t betray me. “And the job?”

“First a meal, and then you’ll see.”

A loud, hollow growl escaped from my stomach. I followed him inside.

***

The man was true to his word. Mutton, a loaf of bread, and fresh fruit. I devoured it all, washing it down with a large glass of ale that was refreshed twice.

“Had your fill?” he asked.

I nodded in response, cherishing the fullness, savoring it.

“Very well then. Let us adjourn downstairs to my study, and I’ll show you what you came for.”

He led me through a dark hall, to an open doorway, stairs leading down. Dim light traced the frame of the opening, its source hidden below.

The stairs led to another short hall, a closed door on the opposite end, the hall lit with a lamp on one wall. Again I caught the smell of something not quite right, like a lost word on the tip of my tongue.

He took out a key from a pocket, unlocked the door and pushed it open. He waved me in with a flourish of his hand. “After you, my friend.”

I took a few nervous steps, uncertainty gnawing at me. I stopped just inside the room he’d called his study. Another lamp stood in one far corner of the room, its soft glow highlighting the harsh edges of furniture and several devices. A small desk sat near the lamp, its faded wood cracked, seams running along the top like veins. A cushioned chair sat opposite.

My eyes caught on two statues on the opposite side of the small study. They both reflected the light in dazzling colors, greens and blues, reds, hues and shades I didn’t recognize, but beautiful all the same. Stained glass, black lines running over the statues, isolating patches of color. Both human-shaped, one tall, massive, almost like a giant of a man stood inside.

They had no eyes, but I felt them anyway, the statues staring at me, waiting, expectant.

“Your task, my friend,” the Glass Man said. “I’d like you to inspect my works of art, tell me your thoughts.”

I was skeptical, of course, my nerves on edge. “That’s all?”

“Strangers, I find, are the best to review works like this,” he said. “Please, feel free. Look at the colors, see how they form patterns, run fingers over the lined edges, check for flaws, blemishes.”

“I’m not much for artists. You sure you got the right man for this?”

“Without question.” He sat in the chair and waited patiently for me to fulfill my end of the bargain.

I hesitantly approached the larger statue first. My hair stood on end as I reached to touch it, glint of light sparkling off the edges of the shaped glass. I turned to glance at the Glass Man, and I felt the sudden movement, too late. I looked down to see two massive hands reach around my torso, pressing me against the statue. Stained hands made of glass.

“Look, I just wanted to eat,” I yelled. “Honest work, that’s all!”

“The road to Hell is paved with good intentions,” he said. “Unfortunately for you, my friend, I’m the paver.”

“I...I don’t understand...” The statue squeezed, held me tight as the Glass Man moved closer.

“Do you know why they call me the Glass Man?”

I could only whimper in pain, held tight by the glass monster, but he continued as if I cared one whit at that moment. Truth be told, I’d never given it a thought. We’ve all got our names.

“You don’t? Of course not, I would think you’d have little enough idea,” he said, running a finger through his long, pale hair. “A simple enough story, really. My father, you see, he was a large, hulking brute of a fellow. A man of the fist, it could be said, and I had ample experience with that particular aspect of him.”

My scream split the air, a torrent of misery flooding from my open mouth. Coldness gripped me.

“I’m sorry, may I continue?” the Glass Man asked, as if rudely interrupted. “My mother, you see, had gifted me with rare intelligence, and an artist’s deft touch. Such a sad day when she left me, bereft and alone with my father. He labored to provide for us, and I took it for as long as I could; he was my father, after all. But I could hardly stand by. No, not for long, most certainly.”

He paused here, apparently deep in thought, his thin brow furrowed in consternation, like he was stuck on some memory. Tears crept from my eyes, streamed down my face. After a handful of seconds passed, he blinked and continued his story.

“It was the Breach, really, that finally did the trick. And the Neverborn, of course. They found me quickly enough, granted me their wicked sharpness, honed my talents. The very essence of the Glass Man that stands before you now.”

He held my hand in one of his, and then I truly realized what he was doing to me. My hand was thick, a stained yellow. As I watched, my lips trembling, thick lines appeared, dark undercurrents that ran up my hand, to my forearm. The lines broke into patterns, and hues began to flood into the separated segments on my arm.

“Did you know, my dear friend,” the Glass Man said, as he studied the art that spread over me. “That glass can hold a soul as well as the precious stones that brought us to this world?”

"It wouldn't do to take yours on an empty stomach."

END

Story is 1616 words right now. I used the following of the four possibilities:

Character: The Glass Man

Line: The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Edited January 25, 2013 by Wulfen

[ThePandaDirector]

Technical

Easy to read, and while I'm tired no mistakes really stood out to me.

Story

It was quite good. I think that for the story's length it was slightly drawn out, not to mention a little predictable (we knew the guy would die, just not the manner). But the characters were consistent and well executed (perhaps the pacing could be improved by fleshing out the protagonist). I think the ending is the bit you can shorten, make it more fast paced and sudden, while the rest can be tweaked to give you enough space to make the end a little less predictable.

Theme

I'm glad that the glass man didn't turn out to be a canon character, so kudos for that. I think it was done pretty well, even if it was all functional. As for the "road to Hell"... I liked how you twisted it around. Usually you link that theme to naivety and unforseen consequences, but the way the Glass man leads the protagonist to Hell with a fake good intention is a refreshing change, even if the deception could have been more subtle.

Overall an enjoyable story that actually handles theme better than the narrative, which only needs a few tweaks to be a more satisfying read for new readers.

[Wulfen]

Thanks for your feedback, Panda. I lengthened the ending a bit because I wanted to highlight the Glass Man and his mannerisms. I wanted to show another layer beneath him.

If anything, I considered throwing out the opening, but I thought it gave a nice flavor to the protagonist, so I kept it.

[cybogoblin]

Haven't had a read through yet, but you're already getting style points for the title

[Wulfen]

Haven't had a read through yet, but you're already getting style points for the title

Thanks cybogoblin.

Can't wait to get some time to read the other entries, including yours!