Miscellaneous Writings

Shame, Glass House

She groaned. The damn light in the garage is out again. Nothing like scrounging around in the dark trying to gather everything together and get my key out to unlock the door.

She dropped her phone which turned on her flashlight but knocked her phone case apart.

“Just great.” She bent over to pick up her phone when the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Then there was a voice.

“Shame. Glass house.”

She brought her head up in time to see a rather tall, large man with a huge mouth and dark eyes. She screamed as she jumped backward and again dropped her phone. This time it took out the flashlight.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Silence.

She knelt and swept her hand across the garage floor to find her phone. She barely touched something hard and she swung her hand back. It was a shoe. All she heard next was laughing.

A giant hand grabbed the back of her head and pulled her up so high her feet barely touched the floor. The person behind the hand continued to laugh.

Fear shot straight from her head to her toes and she nearly lost control of her bladder. She did lose everything else she was holding and grabbed at his hand. She screamed out, but his hold stayed strong. As bad as the pain was she twisted and turned and finally hauled off and kicked him in the nuts. That worked.

She fell hard to the floor, twisting her ankle in the process. A loud piercing scream filled her ears and she covered them with her hands. She didn’t know which way to go, she just knew she had to get out of there.

After a deep breath, she realized her location inside the garage, turned to her left and darted out the side door, away from that thing.

Suddenly she heard loud footsteps running behind her. She ran as fast as she could to get to the neighbor’s house. She just reached the front door when she was yanked backward and carried to her garage once again.

He looked around and spotted a roll of duct tape, grabbed it and began taping her hands together. She screamed as loud as she could, and he flashed her a cold look as if to say, Really? She didn’t scream again.

“Shame. Glass house,” he said.

He threw her over his shoulder and taped her ankles together. He then drew out his own flashlight and found the keys to her car. Opening the trunk, he tossed her in like a sack of potatoes and closed the lid. The car’s engine revved and she knew she wasn’t going to make it out of this situation alive.

Her mind flashed to her husband. What would he do? Will my body ever be found? What does he mean by shame, glass house?

“I guess the only thing left for me to do is the first thing I should have done. Pray, instead of scream.”

Somehow praying calmed her enough to truly think about her predicament. She remembered watching something on television about what to do if you ever found yourself in a trunk. What was it?

It came to her like a lightning strike. She maneuvered her hands in a way that she was able to knock out the taillight. She rolled around the trunk to try and find something to stick out of the opening.

Oh, could I be so lucky? She couldn’t believe it. Sure enough, it was a roll of paper towels. She began ripping them apart and stuffing them through the hole. She could only see one other car on the road and hoped to get their attention.

As she ripped and stuffed she could hear her captor laughing. Everyone once-in-a-while he’d say those words again, “Shame. Glass house.”

“What the hell does that mean?” she screamed. She continued ripping and pushing the paper through the hole.

The car began to slow and he drove off the highway onto a two-lane road. The car was still behind them. *I wish the person in the vehicle would acknowledge, somehow, that they are aware I’m in here.*

Again, the car slowed and turned onto a dirt road. “Oh, no. This is it.” She stopped throwing out the paper towels, there wasn’t much left.

Once more, she began to pray. This time her request was to keep her husband safe and help him to move on after her death. He deserved to be happy and he was young enough to find someone else.

She accepted her demise. It’s funny how acceptance made things much more tolerable.

The trunk opened. The man reached inside and hauled her out, but he didn’t stand her up. Instead, he held her underneath his arm like a bag.

He took her into a little shack and there stood a man she vaguely recalled, but she couldn’t place how she recognized him. He placed her in a chair facing the other man.

“Aw. It’s a shame that your glass house has been shattered.”

“What the hell are you talking about, glass house?”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Apparently not. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

The man looked at her and she realized he held a knife. Her body turned to ice.

“Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“Yes, I know the saying. Why are you attributing it to me?”

“You’re the one who criticized me when I attempted to sell my invention to your company.”

Her eyes grew wide as recognition set in.

“That’s where I know you from. I didn’t criticize you. I criticized your invention. I don’t think your robot is worth the time and money we’d need to put into it.”

“You cost me a lot of money. Now, you won’t be there to naysay anything.”

He moved toward her with the knife and placed the tip of it to the left side of her neck. She could feel it pierce the skin. Blood ran down her neck.

“Please don’t do this,” she begged.

He drew the knife toward the center of her neck.

“Oh, I don’t want to kill you, just your voice.”

Suddenly, the door swung open and there stood police officers with guns drawn.

“Put down your weapon and step outside.”

The man, she could tell, wasn’t sure what to do. He held the blade in his hand and hurled it toward one of the officers. They both shot, and the man went down instantly. The big man held up his hands and willingly walked out.



WORD COUNT: 1,106