The Glass and Ivy

There was once a boy in a glass room. He had only his thoughts and those who chose to stop by the glass walls. People would gawk at his childlike appearance and never take notice of his adult-like actions and logic. No one ever saw that when it got dark, he would venture to the glass to see the animals that got curious about the strange block. No one ever saw when his mind would think of these stories of the outside world. No one took notice of the glass that cut this boy from the world. In fact, no one seemed to care that this boy was like a caged animal waiting for his days to finally end.

Sometimes, when no one came to see him, he would go up to the glass and touch it. He would marvel at the warmth of the glass; he would smile and giggle when it was winter, and he could make the glass go white with only his breath. He would run his hand over the glass and feel the smoothness running with his fingertips. Sometimes when someone came to see him, he would walk to the glass and rest his hand against it hoping to feel their hand. He never could. The people would do the same on the other side of the glass though and it made him feel a bit better, he would force a smile that made his eyes crease at the side, but no one seemed to return it. He would rest against the glass in winter when his box was cold because the glass never seemed to lose its warmth. It had always been warm, ever since he was little.

The boy loved thinking of the outside world. It was beautiful. There were trees as tall as the sky and grass that looked like a fluffy blanket. Animals would wander up to him and he would watch them chase each other. The sunset would change the sky to millions of colours that the boy could never name, the colours would change as the sun left the sky to the moon’s control. The people that came were a sight to see for the boy. They would come in long coats covered in feathers and fur or they would come in tops with worlds scrawled along the front. Some would have long dark coloured hair and others would have short bright hair, but his favourite hair was the curly ones that would look like an unruly mess, but he appreciated that. The people who came by were always different but that gave him something to think about. It gave him an idea of how many more looks humans could have. The outside world was beautiful, and he would spend hours comparing his prison to the free land out there. The glass room had nothing. It was a wonder how he survived so long. It was silent in there. There were no animals chasing each other and no other humans laughing and talking. There wasn’t much to compare because the boy had nothing much. He only had a charm around his neck that had ‘Anyone who looks at you and sees darkness is blind’ engraved to the blue rock in the middle. He reads it and remembers the girl who taught him to read letters. It was tough and took years, but they did it together. She never came back. She moved on and now was just a face who came to gawk at his box. A box that made him feel like a stranger to the world.

One day, when the sun was taking its daily spot and the boy began waking up, he noticed something about the glass. The glass had something growing on it, he’d seen it before on the trees but didn’t expect it to grow on the outside walls. The people who came past would look at it and mumble something to their peers, the boy remained oblivious to the fact it was ivy that you couldn’t stop. He spent his days watching crowds of people leave flowers around his box until they no longer came. He would continue to watch the plant grow towards the roof unaware of why people no longer looked to see him. The glass remained warm until one day a storm came and flooded the ground around him, and the warmth was no longer there. His breath would fog up the glass even when the sun was peeking through the ivy. It kept growing until the sun was no longer visible. The boy couldn’t see the beautiful animals anymore or the people outside his cage.

The boy no longer sought the heat of the glass, learning that there is no heat left to give. The boy, instead, started curling up in the middle of the box with only the heat his body gave off to stay alive. The boy began noticing that he’s trapped, that the people never fought to get him out, never fought the ivy but rather only sought him out for their selfish needs and wants. The people only ever appeared when it suited them and no longer could the boy picture the beautiful outside or the humans that never looked the same. The boy found that to think or breathe came at the price of selfishness. The boy stayed curled in the middle of the empty square. He realised that the people only left things outside his cage for the grief that they could no longer peer at his childlike self. The boy had nothing to live for and nothing to save him.

Just as the boys last days were crossing themselves off, he heard a scratch at the top of the glass. The scratch was high pitched and unrelenting, and the boy gave no thought to it. His body had become too weak to even blink and the dark blanket was beginning it’s comforting caress to his broken body. The boy welcomed the darkness and everything it promised, slowly forgetting the screeching scratches sounding on top of his glass. Just as the dark caress was stopping his beating heart, a small beam of light scorched the darkness around him. The beam of light wasn’t followed by anything but the heat that warmed his heart and thoughts once again. The boy let the blanket of light settle over his frozen body and forced his eyes to blink shut to give him the rest that the cold had deprived him of.

The boy doesn’t know who gave him the light, but he hopes they know that they helped fight off the unforgiving darkness that nestles at the deepest parts of the boy’s mind.