Small Glass Window Pane

Small Glass Window Pane

A Story by Holly

Just a little thing I wrote when I was tired, should I continue?


I opened the door softly. Stepping into the small cupboard of a room, I inhaled its dusty scent. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?" I smiled gratefully at the rooms faded walls. Yellow paint was peeling off them, removing the honey yellow glow and replacing it with the aura of decay. I turned, shutting the door behind me. Two chairs sat underneath the small, square, glass window on one of the walls, facing each other. I grinned in approval and stepped into the light covered wooden floor. The chair looked welcoming, just like it always had and so I sat down. Carefully, I relaxed into the soft oak and stared out the window. I was just about to lose my train of thoughts when the sound of the door opening startled me. A boy who looked my age threw open the creaky wooden door and slammed it close. Panting heavily, he leaned against the abused door and peeked through the oldfashioned keyhole. The boy obviously hadn't seen me yet. He exhaled a victorious sigh and turned towards the window. His eyes narrowed and his voice came out harsh, "What do you thing you're doing here?!"

I returned his dirty look, "I could ask you the same thing!"

"This is MY cupboard, okay? So clear out! I found this weeks ago," he smirked.

"I've been coming here for years," I glared at him, hands on my hips, "What's your name anywyas?"

His black hair fell into of his eyes as he looked down, "James, just James."

"Lana Wellington," I studied his curious stance as it shifted from embarrased to intrigued.

"Wait, Lana in L.W?" an excited and curious fire burned behind his brilliant green eyes.

"Yes...?" I was confused, they were just my initials. All of a sudden he jumped toward the grey, fraying curtain on the left side of the window and pulled it away from the wall, revealing an ingraving.

"L.W..." he traced his long callused fingers along my initials like a lovers face. I took a step towards him.

"I forgot that that was there..." I stared at him, slightly creeped out by his reactions. He looked at me suddenly.

"That means you're the L.W. who did the writings!!" He stared at me with a massive smile.

"What are you talking about?" I was completely bewildered by this tall boys instant mood swings.

His face fell a little as he reached into his bag, pulling out a tattered leather notebook. He head it up, it was a question. I did recognize it. But how? I snatched the book out of his grasp and clutched it to my chest, "How much did you read?!"

His eyes widened and he looked down again mumbling something.

"What was that?"

"All of it..." his deep voice was barely a whisper.

"You insolent little cockroach!" I raised the book and made a motion to hit him with it. He flinched away from my anger.

"Do you do this often? Steal away into people's inner thoughts? Violate everything they thought was private?!" my voice got dangerously low as I studied him, watching for a reaction.

"I didn't mean to... I was just going to peek, to see what it was about, but then I started to actually pay attention and-" he cut off and glanced into my eyes warily.

"And...?" I backed off slightly, almost intruigued by what he was going to say about my journal entries.

"I just fell in love with the girl who wrote all of those things... When I had a hard day, I opened up your book and just relished in your thoughts. It helped me out of so much and well... I continued coming back to this small little room," he trailed off, completely avoiding all eye contact with me.

What could he possibly be rambling on about? I wrote about the confusions of a stupid 15 year old girl who didn't know what was going on. Who was this.. boy, to say otherwise?

"Do you read at all? Cause this was just the idiotic thoughts of a stupid 15 year old girl. And stop coming here. It doesn't belong to you." I glared at him and glanced at the door, a gesture for him to leave.

He suddenly grinned at me, "See that's where you're wrong." His smirk grew as he went to sit down on one of the chairs by the window.

"What do you mean?" I seethed at him.

He pushed forward onto his elbows and glanced at me, a look of triumph in his eyes, "I own this whole building. So technically, this room does belong to me."

My eyes widdened, staring at him. He couldn't be any older than 17... how could he own a whole building? I couldn't let him win. I couldn't let him know that he had confused me.

"You? Yeah right!" I scoffed to disguise my lack of comprehension.

Once again, he surprised me with his reaction. His fingers found the bridge of his nose and he sighed heavily, "It's a long story."

I cautiously sat down in the chair across from his, "Hey, I got time."

© 2012 Holly

Author's Note

I'm usually horrible at dialogue, what do you think?

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Added on October 11, 2012
Last Updated on October 11, 2012
Tags: glass, fiction, love, writing, journal, secrets, cupboard, small, shortstory




Hey my name is Holly, and I'm a musician. I also really love to write and have been looking for some feedback on my writings. I live up in Canada and all the snow and rain can be really inspiring. :D more..

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