Glass by Ahmed AlRasheed

How do I get out of here? The great outdoors is right there in front of me. I go from one end to the next, but it appears that I can’t leave this atrocious place.  People are trying to get me in any way possible, as if I am an undesirable. The force field in front of me is limiting my escape from this room. My brain can’t process this technology; it forbids me from leaving, yet I can walk on air. All of a sudden, everything blacks out, THUD! I squint my eyes one last time, and in a blur I see a person opening this “force field”, scoops me up and throws me out. As I fall to my doom, I realize that all this time, it was just a glass window, separating a fly from the outside world, to freedom.

Glass by Kamanha

I’m the alternate devil in the wrong time at the wrong place

The word “inappropriate” in the dictionary should have a picture of me with a thumbs up and a smiley face

Don’t judge me from first impressions, but hey… I like it when you call me names

He’s a mischievous, aimless, meaningless, heinous, insanous and vulgarity runs in his veins

I know I’m empty so have mercy and don’t tempt me or faze me  Continue reading

Glass by Merriam AlFuhaid

I sat myself beneath the window, on the window seat. I’m going to pray, I told myself. My throat automatically clenched in resistance. I’ve got to, I said to it.

I had no right to ask God for anything, and I wouldn’t have usually, but by now I was willing to try anything. And I suspected that everything else I’d tried in the past month was an excuse to avoid trying this.

“Dear God,” I said. “I’m sorry.”  Continue reading

Glass by Wil

I have an uncle who is a glass artist. When I was a kid, I never really had much appreciation for his work

but I used to love walking into his studio. This is not like any other studio I have seen. It had what I can only describe as a glass studio smell. Slightly acrid. But clean. The place always had a sense of calm. Three or four rooms. Bigger than any other studio I’ve been in, come to think of it. Electric and gas kilns. Within these – fire, intense heat.  Continue reading

Glass by Batool Hasan

Streams of hazy sunshine flow into the room through the cracks in the shutters of the windows. My eyes flutter, causing me to swim in a state between consciousness and fuzzy dreams. I catch a glimpse of my room, the contents of my closet were thrown madly on the floor, and my clothes were sprawled all across, almost covering every inch of it. I open my eyes again; a little more steady this time. The outlines of my clothes merge with the furniture hiding under it, giving my room the feel of a creepy dump. A wave of nausea crashes over me, but it’s not from dizziness; it’s from the stench that’s leaking into my lungs.  Continue reading