The House of Glass

Have you ever heard the story of the sparrow that flies through an open window from the darkness outside? They say the sparrow gets just that brief time to enjoy the warmth and brilliance of the light, but eventually it flies out again, into the bleak darkness, and when you hear that you think that poor sparrow. It kind of reminds me of a story my mother told me once, one of those old fairy tales that we are raised up on, of a boy named Peter and the House of Glass.1

Peter was not an average child, you see his parents were quite wealthy, and so they could afford to build their only son a three story house just for him to play in. For the purposes of our story let us call Peter's parents Mr and Mrs Bleak, I would furnish you with a description but even Peter couldn't guess what his parents might look like, they seemed to drift in and out of his life so often that he remembered nothing more than vague shadows that drifted at the edges of his vision now and again. I can however tell you a little about Peter himself and his loveable playpen.Peter despite what you might have thought, was a rather near sighted fifteen year old, with the beginnings of a stubble and dark mocha skin, as for his playpen at most he would have described it as bleak, even at midday it seemed to radiate a cold feel, and a sort of gloomy atmosphere. He called it his House of Glass because there were glass tiles and mirrors on almost every surface that only served to reflect the emptiness of the place.2

But Peter didn't live alone, oh no, there were at least six servants around to maintain the house, four men and two women, or as Peter liked to call them, the dolls. They never spoke, never seemed to blink just function coldly and with a sort of horrid clockwork efficiency. Peter had come to think of his House of Glass more and more as a prison, rather than a home, his parents refused to let him go to a proper school or have normal friends, no he was too special for that, so they allowed him a constant parade of tutors, as dull and lifeless as his dolls, aged old men in funny smelling trenchcoats and stern pin striped ties, who never smiled and spoke only in monotones.3

It was all so safe and gloomy, so cloying, so Peter drew, he spent every moment of his free time at his desk drawing people and places from the books they let him keep, from the programmes he'd seen. However there was a picture he'd been working at for months, he'd decided he'd make a friend, a beautiful girl with caramel skin, and the softest brown eyes, Kutlo he'd called her, and slowly she had begun to come alive for him. She'd become so real to him that he swore he could almost hear her speak to him at times, her rosebud lips quirking in amusement. She was almost done too, just one more day left.4

That Wednesday morning Peter woke up feeling happy and energised, today it would happen, she would come to him. So he brushed his teeth carefully, and took care to comb his short black hair and practically ran to his desk.5

All that was left were her eyes, and he took his time capturing their fire, their intelligence, their merry humor, and when he had finished the picture began to fade. He leapt back out of his tan wooden chair in wonder. He could hardly believe it, and he almost fainted when he heard a soft voice behind him as her picture disappeared entirely.6

'Peter?'7

He couldn't move, or breathe.8

'Peter?'9

He turned hesitantly, his mind denying the evidence before him, while his heart laughed in wonder.10

'Peter it's me.'11

Was she really standing there? Head tilted slightly to the side, hands clasped in front of her, a smile threatening to break out on her face?12

'Aren't you going to say something?'13

Peter giggled, then when he saw the uncertain look on her face broke into real laughter.14

'You're here!.....You're really here!' he managed to get out between fits of laughter.15

After a moment of hesitation she ran towards him and hugged him tightly.16

'Yes I am really here!' she cried out joyfully, while Peter stood there dumbstruck. He realised it was the first time he had ever been hugged, then he was hugging her back, at first awkwardly, and then with greater enthusiasm as he considered what he'd done and what it meant.17

For three whole weeks Peter considered himself the happiest and luckiest kid in the world. He and Kutlo did all the things he'd dreamt about; they swam in the house's massive indoor pool, chased each other around in an endless game of tag, and sat under the stars in Peter's room staring at the heavens through his skylight. Peter begun to believe he was in love, but then slowly he started to perceive that his companion was sad.18

So he asked her, 'what's wrong?'19

And she looked up at him with those lovely eyes and tried bravely to smile.20

'I just miss my friends that's all.'21

'You had friends... before?' he asked her in surprise.22

'Oh yes, a lot of friends, but...they're back there.'23

Peter was hurt that he wasn't enough for her, but he loved her so he asked the question that frightened him the most.24

'Do you want to go back?'25

She looked at him for a while with a serious face that Peter had never seen from her before, then she broke into a happy smile.26

'No, but maybe you can bring them here.'27

Peter was doubtful but he didn't want to disappoint her so he said, 'I'll try Kutlo, but you'll have to help me. I'll need you to tell me what they look like.'28

She sprang to her feet and offered him her hand. As he shook it she said, 'it's a deal,' and she gave him her trademark smile, but Peter felt that something was wrong.29

So for a full month Peter and Kutlo worked on bringing her friends to life, first with Michael, then with One, Madonna, Tshenolo, Junior, Seabelo, Charles, Thelma, KB, Angel, David, Elizabeth, Martin and Rita. With each one Peter lost the wonder that he'd found when he had created Kutlo, and began to think more and more of the sense of disquiet he'd felt when they had begun. Still he was in love so he said nothing and worked on even harder to turn Kutlo's dreams into a reality.30

When they were all done however things only got worse. They started asking him to bring them things, a stereo system, packs of cigarettes, bottles of liquor. At first he'd been scared to order the servants to get them with the card his parents had gave him, but they were only dolls for him to play with as he wished, and they never complained or argued as he thought they would. Soon his new friends were throwing parties and sessions, and the air in the house began to reek of cigarettes and alcohol. Soon Peter saw less of Kutlo as she partied with her friends.31

It wasn't long before Peter found himself back at his desk drawing again. Only this time he didn't draw people, he began to draw a forest that he'd been dreaming about for the past few days. He'd figured it out; if he could let them out by drawing them, he could find a way in by drawing himself. So he started to draw himself in the forest and the picture was almost done, only one day left now.32

Kutlo had thought she'd be happy when they were all out, and she had been at first but something was wrong. The feeling had begun to creep up on her slowly, and then Michael had started pawing her, his blue eyes glazed over in his stupor, and she'd realised what was missing. Kutlo pushed him off her, and he fell on his butt, his lightly tanned skin much like hers colored slightly, but she didn't wait around for his response. She ran down the hallways searching frantically, where was he? She had come to see that what was missing was Peter, and she remembered how he had treated her, with kindness, with generosity and with love, and she ran even faster.33

She reached his bedroom just as he finished the picture; he looked up at the sound of her feet outside his door then vanished.34

'No!' She ran for his desk, and looked down in horror at Peter's drawing of himself inside the forest. He looked back at her, and gave her a sad smile. He whispered and the trees stirred as a wind moved through them carrying his words to her.35

'Goodbye.'36

He gave her one last lingering look, then he turned and walked into the forest, she stood there sobbing quietly as he disappeared into the trees. She dropped the picture, and looked around the room and saw how desolate and lonely it was. She continued to sob as she stumbled towards Peter's bed and curled up into a ball on top of it, weeping into the night.37

See it reminds me of the sparrow, because Peter got his moment in the light, but then he lost it, although perhaps he is happier where he is, among the trees, it must be better than that House of Glass, surely?38