Posted by: Kathryn Hulick | December 20, 2008

Glass for Seeing

Bailey Island, Maine. May 20, 2004.

small-stones

“Green for mossy, wooded glen; yellow for dust and desert storm; brown for earthy mud and mire; white for ice and driving rain; and last, clear glass.

Glass for Seeing.”

My hand hovers over the stones. Hovers, then lands; five cool hard shapes brush against my five fingers. My thumb fits perfectly into the dent in the bit of glass, and the stones struggle. Whatever it is I want to see, they are none too happy about it. Not a big surprise.

I’m frozen in ice; sucked by mud; blinded by dust; choked by vines.

Damn it, why me? I knew I was missing something.

“Need some fire, Rune?”

Rolph, my tireless, thankless, perfect little brother tosses me the missing stone. This one’s black and jagged, like the volcano that spat it out.

“Black for fire, smoke and burning,” I sing.

“You messed up the words,” Rolph taunts. “It’s ‘black for smoke and fire burning’.”

He’s right, of course. The black stone smiles up at me, still and solid against its now-silent brothers.

“What were you trying to See?” Rolph asks. “Can I try?”

“No!” I snatch up my stones before he can mutter some mumbo jumbo that will reveal the purpose of my spell. No way will he ever know that I was trying to spy on Trill’s brother Wes.

“Bet you were spying on Wes!”

So much for that.

I leap across the courtyard and lunge for Rolph. He ducks and tries to sweep my leg, but I’m too fast. “Black for smoke and fire burning!” I yell, tossing the stupid fire stone at his chest.

“Think I’m gonna fall for that?” He dodges the rock, which falls to the stone tile with a burning hiss.

“No, but you’ll fall for this!” I get ready to throw my earth stone, hoping to smear muck across his neat white tunic, when Trill steps in the way. The stone drops on my own foot, leaving a blob of stinky goo draining through my bare toes.

“Will you two cut it out?” Trill pulls me aside. At fifteen summers, she’s only two years older than me but twice my height. Even in her most drab pale green leggings and cloak she’s beautiful. I can’t count the number of times I’ve wished my hair were long, thick and black like hers instead of short, limp, and brownish.

“Rune, they need you at Y’nessa’s. And would you clean that gunk up?” We both stare at the glob on my foot.

“If they find out you’re playing with your stones, they’ll take them away,” Trill warns. I can’t decide if she’s teasing or serious. Everyone says the Stewards can take back the stones, but I’ve never actually seen it happen. Still, better to be safe.

“I won’t do it again. Promise!” I hold up my hands, palms out and thumbs linked, gesturing I swear.

“Good,” Trill’s face softens into a smile as I trot over to the clumps of soft grass at the edge of the courtyard to wipe off my foot. “Come on,” Trill urges. “They’re waiting.”

Part 2: Where the Peaks Meet Sky

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Responses

  1. I really like this one

  2. […] Part 1: Glass For Seeing […]


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