WRITING OBSTACLE

Submitted by G. N. Solomon

Write a story, poem, or descriptive paragraph centred around glass breaking.

Make sure to think about all the sensory details, metaphors, and analogies associated with breaking glass.

A Parting Gift

(This selection is part of a novel currently in work.)


I was having the strangest dream; everywhere I stepped, my footsteps sounded like broken glass. People were shouting with my every step, my feet were bleeding, yet they did not hurt. Charles and Eliza were crying out; I had to walk across the glass to get to them, but they seemed farther away with every step. I bellowed in frustration, wresting myself from fitful slumber.

The sounds of broken glass and shouting were still there; a diffuse orange glow showed through the window. I threw back the blankets and dashed to the window—the redcoats were torching Camden.

“Fire! Everyone! Quick! We must get out!” They hadn’t yet reached our shop and house, but they would. Soon. “Betsey! Grace! Take the children out through the garden. I shall see if I can stop them.”

I grabbed father’s pistol from the top of the cupboard as I tore down the stairs. Just as I crossed the threshold two panes of glass shattered as two lit torches flew in and landed on top of and behind the counter. Time seemed to slow down, I dropped the pistol and clambered for the ewer in the back room. Too late. The fire reached our jar full of grain alcohol and exploded, engulfing our shop. A wave of searing hot wind hit my face and knocked me backwards. I cracked my head on something; bright white flashes danced around my vision. I felt for the edge of the counter, found my ledger and dispensatory books by feel, and crawled for the back door as best I could in my night rail and heaving two heavy books. The back door seemed to be miles away; the acrid smoke robbed my breath and sight as the rest of my senses seemed to be shutting down. I pushed the books along the floor in front of me until I felt them drop over the first step. I felt the gentle hand of oblivion beckoning me to escape—quiet, soothing, merciful.

“Abbie! Abbie! Look! She’s there!” Charles screamed, ceaselessly, his voice a lifeline back to my family, and away from the burning wreckage of our home. “Abigail! Don’t leave us!”

“We got ye!” I felt a firm grip on both of my hands, a rock solid anchor tethered to life. Grace and Betsey pulled me down the steps and away from our burning house. “Eliza, fetch me the pitcher of water,” said Grace. “Yer safe, Abbie. Which ye ain’t gonna leave us, ye damned stubborn goat!” I attempted a laugh at Grace calling me a goat, which only made my hacking and gagging worse. Betsey rested my head on her knee and rubbed my back as I lay upon my side. Once Eliza brought the water, Betsey poured it over my eyes, mercifully washing the acidic soot out of my eyes. Once my coughing had abated I sipped a little, though it didn’t slake my burned throat.

“Buttermilk,” I croaked, unable to say much else, and Eliza fetched it. All over our neighborhood, glass broke, and fires raged. The bells were tolling as Camden’s citizens turned out to fight fires and save what they could—shouting, wailing, cursing as the British marched out of the chaos in an orderly fashion.

I would have been raging mad if I were not so tired and infirmed. I needed not to say anything, for Eliza said it for me. “You live in our homes, you eat our food, you killed my father, and this is the thanks we get? Damn you all to hell! Go back to England, you filthy devils!” Shocking language for a young lady…and my sentiments, exactly.

Comments 2

This is a great section of your novel, Stacey! Great job. I liked the transition from dream to reality; it felt smooth and made sense.


Perhaps consider rewording the sentence: “Just as I crossed the threshold two panes of glass shattered as two lit torches flew in and landed on top of and behind the counter.” The double “as” was a little jarring. Even if you dropped the first “Just as” and kept everything else, I think it would read better.


Later, you wrote “Time seemed to slow down” which is cliche (nothing wrong with cliches if used sparingly) but I would drop the “seemed”. It feels stronger if you write it literally: “Time slowed down”. Perhaps I’d consider the same with “The back door seemed to be miles away”. Drop the “seemed to” and it’s even more powerful for the reader. Maybe you could do the same with “seemed to be shutting down” too. I’d consider why you like to say “seemed to”. It might be to try and avoid hyperbole, but sometimes hyperbolic images are exactly what the reader needs to keep the pace in the situation. Don’t be afraid, your writing is good, and we don’t necessarily need you to make it really clear when something is exaggerated or not, we get it from context :)


Minor point here: “Once Eliza brought the water, Betsey poured it over my eyes, mercifully washing the acidic soot out of my eyes” - you can probably just write “of them” at the end rather than repeating my eyes.


I was perhaps a little confused by just one thing, the home was on fire and damaged, and yet Eliza was able to get water and buttermilk quite easily. Where did she get it from? And perhaps make that clear to the reader or it feels like a continuation problem in your plot.


Overall, Stacey, I really enjoyed this. You captured the scene and kept the pace up really well. I found it easy to visualise and I was hooked to see what would happen next.