JUWC Glass House- Double Feature.

So I gave this thing a whirl and came up with two pieces that go along with this, I suppose.  One a poem, and another one of my pseudo story things.  Enjoy!

(Poem time!)

Glass House

I wonder if

You would still

Have the courage

To throw stones

In every direction

If

That brick house

Around you

Became transparent.

What would

Someone see?

That closet of skeletons

Meets the light of day,

And would you be

Alright with that?

When people

Call you out

For your misdeeds,

Will you complain?

Dish it out

But can’t take it back?

Is that what

I’m seeing here?

You’re pathetic,

You know?

Throw the insults freely,

But when they shatter

The foundation around

You…

Well,

You cry foul.

I guess it takes

A special person

To judge and

Not be judged.

Although I don’t think

It’s you.

No,

Not you my friend.

(And now it's time for a story)

He sits there. Just sits there. He smokes a cigar, sips his scotch and a smug smile crosses his face. He thinks the world is his, his for the taking. So far it has been.

To do this he has stepped on many, crushed even more. That’s all the cost of business, isn’t it?

However, things always have a way of catching up to you. Conduct yourself in some manner and it will return to you, for good or evil it will catch up.

He has done evil to get so far, to feel like he has the power to judge. His own hands have stolen money, property, and life. Who is he that has to submit to any other? He owns all around him and no one can touch him. Dare they speak against him? No, the silence takes them quickly.

Although sometimes, things happen that you never expect.

A cool breeze sends a shiver down his spine. He wonders where the draft came from, but he’s too tired to bother.

There’s a scuffing, scratching sound…a thump. He stands up to look around, calls out for someone to answer. He is met with silence, pure and utter silence.

Nervous now, he clutches the pistol that never leaves his person. He looks around, eyes darting through the shadows trying to pick out the source of his fear.

There is darkness, but that is all he can see and he sighs in relief. Takes another sip from his glass and closes his eyes.

A shadow springs forward and wraps itself around him; he drops the gun and screams.

“What the hell are you?”

Punishment, revenge, damnation.

“What do you mean? I haven’t done anything!”

Yes, you have. We’ve seen it all, every single thing. You cannot hide it, not from us.

Eyes wide with terror, more shadows pounce and engulf his form. Horrible shrieking rings out and is abruptly silenced. Mere minutes pass.

The man is lying face down now. His skin brittle, papery, it crumbles on its own. The teeth in his skull show through the remains of his lips, like a sadistic monkey grin: his last smile.

~Zoo