The Stars, Like Eyes

In the past, there was a golden city on the coast of a shining sea. Its people, though few, were joyous, and its prosperity knew no bounds. And yet, the king of this city had a burning desire, a terrible ache. He wished for someone to share in his joy. For all of the city’s power and prosperity, it had less than 300 inhabitants. At night, they would look up and see only an empty void. We were radiant, but we were alone.

It came to pass that a glassblower found his way into the king’s tower. He said that he could fulfill the king’s wish. For, the glassblower proclaimed that he could a people anew. They would be as children to man, formed of pristine glass. Such words astonished the king, and wonder took hold of him. Anything, he promised, if you do this you can have anything you desire. The glassblower only smiled and said, Just protect them, dear king, guard them as your children. The king nodded, and the glassblower was satisfied.

The glass blower went back to his house and formed the glasslings through a secretive art that none still remember. What we do know is that he sealed his creation with a promise, and whispered it into the just colling glass even as he breathed life into them. And it was this – We will always protect you, love you, and cherish you. Now, promises are powerful things, and with those words, the glasslings held the gift of life.

When the glass had cooled and a day had passed, the glassblower took his creation to the king. They lay in a whacker basket and were wrapped in cloth so that they would not shatter. And, when the glassblower exited his house, he had to push past a throng of people all excited to see what the glassblower had wrought.

The glass blower arrived at the king’s tower, and the king sat up. Long had he awaited this coming. The glassblower removed the covering of the basket, then, with painstaking care, removed the cloth and unwrapped the glasslings.

The strange beings stood on top of the table and opened their eyes. They saw light for the first time. With strange, curious movements, the glasslings took their first steps. And, from their thoughts came tinkling music, like that of bells—the king marveled at how flexible the glass was, and the sweet music. And the glassblower nodded. There was a tear in the glassblower’s eye, and joy in his heart.

The glasslings soon became beloved in that city. The king introduced them to his waiting people with a flourish. And all marveled at the little creatures, the way they moved, the tinkling music that came from their lips. The glasslings were doted on. The people taught the glasslings all they knew of how the world worked, while the children taught the glasslings their games. It would have been quite unusual for a harsh word to be spoken against the glasslings.

Time passed, as it is want to do. And the glasslings became less of a fixture in the city. People would talk to them, and incline their heads as they passed on the street. The children still played games with the glasslings, and the King would still spend time with some of the glasslings and marvel at their music. But all of it is less so. The novelty wore off.

Then there came a day when the wind picked up, and lightning split the sky in twain. All the people of the city rushed into their buildings, to be the same from the coming storm. And the glassblower’s house was crowded with a host of glasslings. Many, but not all. o the glassblower opened his door and braved the storm. Winds beat against his skin and rain soaked through his cloak. In such a storm the glassblower could see nothing. He could only return to his house and hope that the glasslings were safe in the king’s castle.

The next day, from the glassblower’s window, he could see beautiful sunlight reflected off the shards of glass that littered the city streets. Glittering piles of pulverized glass lay outside almost every doorway as if the glassing had been huddling before locked doors, wanting to be let in.

And so, there were shards of glass on the ground, and their magic appeared broken. But, promises are powerful things, as is the duty of guardianship. The shards of glass rose from their scattered places along the floor. There were tears in the glassblower’s eye as he went outside, toward the remnants of the glasslings. They rose far above the earth until they hung in the sky, where no one could reach them.

They stopped there, and now they watch us. It is with fury and sadness that they bear witness to our misdeeds. What must they think of those that left them outside during the storm? What must they think as they watch us bear our hardships? The stars hang in the sky, our own mistakes staring back at us. But, perhaps someday we will reach them again. Maybe the stars are waiting for us to reprise our role, and we need only look after each other and reach for the stars.