The Midway barker called,
"Custom glassware! The choice is yours- how do you want to portray your life? Turquoise, red, green, clear, burgundy. Genie bottle, beaker style, Mason jar, tea cup, whiskey bottle, vase? Souls included."
#hbp111 #prompt #customglassware #soulinc
You can't understand the soul of glass until you have visited Murano or Chihully. Temps hotter than hades, Aprons that repel hot detritus. Upper body strength and lungs envied by opera singers. Tender bursts breathe Michelangelo air into molten sand and color to extract never replicated art. #hbp111
“I’ll take it,” she said, staring at the bottle—sapphire with fascinating but nonidentical silver lines.
When she got home she put flowers in it. That evening the flowers were gone.
“What the—“
She looked, unwisely, into the bottle.
…and then it was back in the shop, with one more line.
#hbp111
All agreed that he was the best glassblower ever. His wares had style & soul. From all over the world, young men came to be his apprentices. Sadly, no one ever heard from them. Lack of talent, people shrugged. Little did they know that his creations really had soul - those of his trainees. #hbp111
"The soul's an archaic idea—"
A spiral tumbler crashes to the floor.
"—fueled by faith—"
An hourglass vase shatters on the tiling.
"—& fervor."
Angus holds a fluted jug with 2 fingers.
"Don't—" The Devil raises a hand. "That's yours."
The jug slips. "Oh," Angus says & winks out of existence. #hbp111
"Tall glass for a tall lady?"
The vendor opened his case and displayed the merchandise to his potential buyer.
"This glass is red and fiery. This one cool. This one is unique and this very special one is slightly fractured. Take your choice, choose your soul mate. My Lord."
#hbp111
What really stood out from his hidden dwelling were shelves upon shelves of custom glassware, each containing a soul he and the other ancient priests had sealed. He was about to take back the one they sealed inside the tree, but she thwarted his plan. What if she remembers everything?
#hbp111
"These deep blue bottles were once used to capture demons. They say the evil spirits, once trapped, could only be released if the bottle was broken."
"That's not true! My mommy says they were just for wine!"
"How about you break this one and we'll see? Hmm?"
"Uhh... No thanks, lady."
#hbp111
I purchased a glassware goblet—that whispers in Latin—from a curio shop called Professor Whimsy’s Emporium of Almost Practical Goods. The item in question—the question being, "why does it whisper in Latin?"—is unsettling, as I do not speak Latin, but I still use it when I drink Dr. Pepper.
#hbp111
#hbp111
Melania picks up one of the glass bottles on the shelf. Stuck to its surface is a grimy label that reads: "One soul. Never used. Price: 7 gold. Interesting trades considered." She looks over at Cypher. Would a four-headed dog would be considered interesting? Only one way to find out.
#hbp111 #flashfiction #writing Flash Fiction Story written by Eric Montgomery (mrericmontgomery.com) A glassblower sells pieces, each with a soul—borrowed, bartered, or stolen. A skeptic buys a tumbler, amused, until it sobs at night. Then it whispers, drinking his memories, unraveling his reflection. His laugh sounds like glass clinking. His thoughts echo, hollow. He shatters the tumbler… and feels himself crack. By morning, the glass is whole. He is not. His voice rattles inside the cup, desperate and distant. That afternoon, the glassblower receives a package—no note, no return address—containing the tumbler, pristine and waiting.
In the gift shop at Vicki & Sue's Intergalactic Travel and Fish and Chips, you'll find exotic glassware containing the souls of the long-dead.
But buyer beware, as they sometimes escape. Jim discovered this when Cloacina, goddess of the sewers, broke free of her vase.
It was a real shitshow.
#hbp111
There is a theory that objects retain memories, holding traces of the fingertips and lives that touch them like warmth from a summer sun. Some call it panmnemism or panpsychism; some call it comforting, a piece of the lost. We call it our business philosophy: glassware with soul.
#hbp111
Custom Glassware!
Soul included. Get to know the makers.
The sales clerk whispered in Grant’s ear. “The blue ones are a little distant, but the red ones—kapow! Hot and hungry. Black ones are smokin’. Green ones won’t leave you alone. Mix and match for a fun evening. Um, no returns.”
#hbp111
Walking into the antique shop, intrigued by the glass jars. So many colors and shapes. There was a red one that particularly caught my attention, so I went closer. I started to pick it up, then I saw a face. Not a reflection and it seemed to be screaming. Hair on end. Soul in a jar.
#hbp111
Jason knew the antique jar was special as soon as he lifted it up, and the woman's soul banished inside it begged him to free her.
'That one's twenty,' the owner called over.
Jason put the jar back down gently. The last woman he'd been with had cost him a lot more than that.
#hbp111 #writers #vss
Summer 2525
As we returned from the newest fad store, the Silicon Soul Emporium, Jimmy jumps for joy!
He quickly takes the red decanter from the packaging and after a nod from us removes the stopper.
Immediately we hear coughing and smell cigarette smoke…WV 1955 stamped on the underside.
#hbp111
Tommy, like any good toddler, fiddled with a glass vase as his mother, as the average modern mother does, ignored him to do her shopping.
His fingers, too small, fumbled the red-and-purple glass vase and it shattered on the floor sounding like Baby Huey's "Hard Times."
The boy clapped.
#hbp111
Photo: Glassware. Exhibit in the Huntington Museum of Art, Huntington, West Virginia, USA. Source: Daderot, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Concept: Custom glassware, soul included. #hbp111
