Prisoners of the glass cloche

The reflected light from the cheap glass face of my watch strikes my eyes, staining my vision shades of purple and grey as I check for the time. The hand shifts to 12: 72. A sudden dry taste burdens my mouth and chokes my breath into an airy cough. I sip the last of the water struggling at the bottom of my flask. Living inside the glass cloche dome sets our world ablaze with the light which never surrenders and the ever thick atmosphere. The fat drops of built up condensation on the surface above spontaneously fall to instantly die upon impact with the Barron earth. Only a small population besides myself that remain are bound to the routine of travelling to the boundary guarded by glass to only be met with another defeat. The five of us dragged ourselves out under the heat with our lives tailing behind, only to return back with a few sour straws of wheat in which we chewed until we preferred the taste of our own saliva. 

The shade nurtured the growing fatigue provided only by the cave-like structures poorly carved from dollar store clay and set to dry in the external air; returning again to its soft thick nature with the help of the inhabiting mould. At 12: 90 we groan from the shifting bones in our spine and hips as we sit on the itchy fabric squares to return to our usual pointless storytelling antics. Old Joan tells the wall about those who ventured beyond and those who have yet to return while vinnie drew bugs in the dirt. Her toes dug deep past the loose soil and scraped the harder surface leaving a fair crevice for shadows to compliment the crafted shapes. Her toes bleed from the constant abuse in the name of art. Bon watched over intensively before gathering small pebbles from his pockets and placing them in the divots of the eyes. A blue shade for the left, orange for the right and a fat white one to replace the gaping mouth. Together we watch the bug play out a story for us, a new scene for each and a new voice for each.

A sudden flicker sends a void of darkness through the hut shocking us all up to a stiff. The light returns and a crowd of owl eyes stare for answers as if written with red ink on my skin, their pupils dilate with marvel. Feet shift scratching the sand upon the bottom of calloused feet followed by the beating rhythm of the two children running out towards the light. The duet comes to a stop at the death of the shadow, afraid too they will die at the touch of the warmth. The elders sit tight behind the shield I provide with my sacrificial life they silently decided with their shared prudent nature. They inch me forward with the sharp gaze piercing my back. I glide past the frozen youth out to the open. The instant shift of environment pricks my eyes and warms my scalp. Beyond the earth beneath my feet, a dull orange glow replaces the usual stark yellow. The sun is dying above. The sun is tiring, and stirring above in agitation. The sun is beyond its days bathing in its hell turning its surface to a prune ready to retire. 

I abandon the hut behind me as I walk towards the water along the edge of our glass dome. I watch myself grab at the liquid, becoming prey to the hydration. Sweet pleasure melts down my throat and into my stomach, coating it cold. It escapes my fingers and trickles down my chin, rippling the tide in the bowl I created below. Once satisfied I collapse to the ground, collecting a layer of sand and mud on my hands and legs; spreading further as I hopelessly try to free myself. I wipe the watch face with the dry hair on top of my head to check the passing time. 13:43. To my right a face reciprocates mine in the mirroring glass. Dry dark hair framed the young face of a woman painted with dark shadows beneath the strained brown eyes and speckled endlessly with sun spots reaching past the surface skin. My thin hand connects with that in the glass and together we paint what we see. Mud is smeared and manipulated into a monochrome silhouette portrait. A moment shared quickly cracked and fell away with the baked mud clumping at my feet. I return my gaze out the glass to be met with a teasing darkness. 

I lean hard against the wall to feel the coolness transcending the barrier, as I pull closer to freedom. The shadows beyond offer a heavy blanket over giant tables and chairs. Distant white machines glow near the far wall holding large sheets of black and grey lines of numbers and letters too small to comprehend. A single window sits watching in the corner of my eye, larger than this dome. It flashes a blunt mock of silver light onto the surface below. This room that encases our glass prison looms close to a new world in comparison. A vibration echoes from the glass into my body twitching my heart to interrupt its pattern. The thick door shutters as it closers, a long figure disrupts the view as it floats towards me. Above it stands, locking eyes with me. He is me, only a giant. Giant hair, giant face, giant mouth. The glow escaping from our dome paints his face in a warm tone as he grows closer to me, glass separating the two worlds. His lab coat disrupts the shadows with its sanitary white reflection. A gloved hand carefully travels towards the sun above. No hesitation in his swift moves as he touches the ball of fire. He flashes of a toothy grin folding his eyes shut to a wrinkly mess before my vision is burned into crisp white, sending cracks of pain through my body. My Bones to the hard ground echo as silence overwhelms. 

I manage a slit of vision. Light returns fierce, reciprocating the boils forming on my skin and the dry air felt with every breath. The orange glow now transformed to a heavy white. The sun has found strength and here to prove us wrong. She has proved her power, sending us to our knees at her feet. The giant in the white coat returned to the abyss. We are nothing but lab rats. Prisoners to this glass cloche, ruled by the sun and guarded by the giants. I focus on shifting my body slightly allowing my wrist to fall to the side revealing the cracked watch face. My finger crawls towards the button on the side. The light reflects off the glass face as I hit the button one last time, blurring my vision shades of purple and black. 

The glass wall reflects a lifeless body, limp and dull. The LED lamp refuses to retire as it watches over forever more now plump with new life granted by the scientist who observes life from the exterior. Upon the youths wrist, a cheap watch reads the time 00:00.