by Harry Markov
Tinted Windows
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 13:33 pm
“Harvest their souls,” said the bald man. By then everybody, who had come to prepare the gallery for its opening tomorrow, was herded on the floor in the conference room. Chaos ensued. One of the men stepped up to Judy and cupped her face. Nothing violent, but still she shuddered. Then Judy convulsed, sighed once and closed her eyes. She didn't open them after that.
After Judy's body dropped, already starting to turn grey, it all happened too fast. Don jumped at them and got shot. Captives snapped and vomited. Aniani had to run, get out of there, get away from Judy's empty eyes. One minute Aniani was on all fours, the next she ran through the nearest corridor with an Uzi pressed on her chest. God, she couldn't breathe. This couldn't be happening. Any second she waited for the sound of a shooting gun and then it would be all over. She would gurgle and writhe, spending her last conscious moments feeling blood cloud her mind and lungs.
There was no light in the corridor. Darkness stretched and wove threatening silhouettes. Aniani plunged into the shadows, swaying on her heels . S he couldn't slow down. Fear propelled her with each step, pushing her away from the conference room. Air burned in her lungs and the Uzi slipped away from her sweaty palms. She glanced over her shoulder only to see no one was on her tail, yet.
Sharp pain spiked her ankle as she stepped to her side. She lost her balance as the weight of the stolen Uzi dragged her down. The impact of the wooden wall shook her body with blinding pain, but she couldn't afford to slow down. Aniani staggered up, took off her shoes and continued to run, clutching the gun to her chest as she neared the end.
Distant shouts and orders drifted from behind. They noticed I'm gone and the gun is missing too , she thought. Not much longer now . Panic contracted her chest and she cried. God, after she swore she would never cry. It was surreal. She couldn't be here, running away from these terrorists and carrying an Uzi. What did they do to you, Judy? Aniani swore she saw electric flakes shimmer above Judy's head, when she died, but that couldn't be real. None of this had to be.
Light burned her eyes. It was everywhere, clean and sterile. She hesitated before she darted into the gallery's transparent hallways. The “Prism” was the name of the project Aniani had worked on for the better part of six years. Tinted glass, armored plastic and see-through materials created an art center in the outskirts of the city. This was supposed to be her triumph, but now it left her exposed. She didn't dare run and get shot. Closest to her was the East staff exit, which led to an open gas station and parking lot.
Her breath stained the window walls as she placed one cautious step after the other. Sneaking wasn't something she was good at and her glass eye left her right side unguarded. Around her she heard the men fan out in all directions. Didn't they know which exit she took or were they playing mind games with her? But she didn't risk it and lengthened her stride, until her skirt ripped. Fuck, why now. I knew I had to wear that green dress . There was nothing to release the tension. She just returned to the men with the guns, who had no point to kill anybody. We were nobodies. Why?
She exhaled a steady breath and rationalized. It was like handling molten glass. Only iron nerves and concentration prevented her from getting burned. This is a gallery. There is nothing valuable enough for an assault. Are those terrorists? What did the bald man mean by harvesting souls? Aniani tried to place them in some folder, tried to find some logic in their actions like she did every day, but everything led to a dead end.
She took another turn on the slick surface and almost slipped. In the distance ahead she heard a man shout beyond the window halls. Their shadows stretched on the glass around her. But glass played with shadows too and she had no idea, how close they were to her. She helped construct this place and couldn't even use that to her advantage.
A thick dark spot slipped on the floor near the end of the corridor. Damn Murphy's laws . She stopped in an instant, too sudden to keep herself on the feet. Her stockings slid on the floor until she fell on her back. Her breath was cut off in my lungs, hands clutching at the Uzi. Falling would mean the end of the chase. The shadow finally attached to a pair of feet, blurred by the relief glass. The man, a shapeless blur as well, took his time with each step.
She pressed her lips to suppress a scream and pushed herself on to the nearest crevice in the colored glass exhibition. The floors were polished enough to work, and the crevice was wide enough to crawl under. Working with the Uzi was tiring. The thought of knocking something with it or dropping the weapon terrified her.
There she found an isolated corner and pressed her back tightly against the wall waiting for the growls of the angry men to suffocate in the distance. Best case scenario involved a suicide run, while the armed men climbed up to the upper floors. Only glitch was that the floors were transparent and Aniani was as good as dead.
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 7:15
It was one of those early July dawns which caught early birds, who brought the city back to life, with warm and humid blanket filled with the park flowers blooming. The sun drew golden outlines over the urban landscape. Everything whispered complete serenity, yet Aniani wrestled with her nerves. Today was not even the opening day of the gallery, but the project had occupied six years of her time and she wanted everything to be perfect.
She drew a quick breath and went about her morning ritual. She scanned the thin strings of people, snaking over the streets. She examined their faces, searching for emotions, for their souls among this mash of colors. Observation had taught her eyes to perceive the smallest details. Like how the grey twilight mixed with the yolk shine, pressing from above. Most fascinating for her was the shadows, which spread on the pavement and swayed on people's faces like scattered pieces of paper glued to their whole beings.
All these pieces of information she gathered in beady necklaces of words. They adorned the lines of her journal she balanced on her knee during her ride on the bus. The colors, shapes, clothes, the hues of feelings imprinted in the human faces and the glow, shine or glisten; all went down black and white. It was a documentary of the irreal in reality, which Aniani stringed together with hybrid fragments of her imagination and memories from studying psychology. Trying to keep her writing clean and even in a moving bus was challenging, but she loved every minute of it.
Riding on the bus, safely tucked away from the noise and chaos of the crowd, Aniani thought of the bus window as a crystal canvas. It hosted masterpieces of moving pictures tinted with various hues. All were produced by the light dissolving as it entered the imperfection of the glass. How she wished to be lost in the crowd, just another shade in the masses. But it was easier to avoid people. The stares glued to her glass eye weighed her down, even though she wasted more glass on making the perfect eye. An eye that looks normal, and yet anyone could see that it was dead.
Traveling in any vehicle reminded her about life she could have had. She had a list of things she wanted to get done. First a degree in psychology, then she could help people and after that she would write novels. But as would life would have her plans rotated out of the road, spiraled down and burned to cinders. When she had nervous days, she could feel the moments before the car accident creep on her.
It wasn't pretty. Plastic surgeons saved her face, but an eye is irreplaceable. It was the window to the soul; a window nobody could fix if it got broken. She cringed at the memory, but noted down her impressions. It was the only piece from her dream life, she managed to salvage from the wreckage. Her right eye socket itched again, and she realized that she forgot to wash her glass eye the morning in all of the excitement. Hygiene was hard to follow, when she pretended she didn't have a handicap, when she slept with it and imagined she wasn't partially blind.
God, now they'll think I am crippled and unhygienic at the same time . She wrinkled her forehead with the pessimistic remark but didn't attempt a mental pep talk. It was pointless. all Her phobias and the glass eye, rotating quietly around its orbit, had already embedded themselves in her daily routine as far as her pride allowed it. Don't overwhelm yourself. Think business. Think of what you are paid to do.
Glass making had been a life time a hobby thanks to her grandfather. But after losing her eye she belonged nowhere in a world obsessed with appearances. So glass had become her livelihood. Aniani breathed colors into the transparent fragile material. She spun the heated material the way her grandfather had instructed her. It was a slow sensual dance of movement and heat. People called her work art. She thought her work to be the only way to interact with anyone without involving her face. Restoring churches and doing commissions worked so far, but she wanted more. This is why the “Prism” gallery was so important.
That is why she hid behind the window, unhinged by the buzzing of the city, tucked in her routine and engrossed in her work. She needed the vitality and the weariness; the love and the hate; the desperation and serenity. She needed these lives so that her art could become alive on its own, so that she could slide her fingers on the windows she made and be a part of the world. It was the only connection she allowed herself to have and Aniani clutched it tightly.
The bus halted. Aniani recognized the stop and sprang to her feet, clicking her heels toward the exit, her purse and journal in hand. The humid morning air smacked her lips with a wet kiss as she sucked in her breath. Her stomach tied itself into a bundle of knots; sickly sweet fragrance of a too strong perfume hinted that something wasn't right.
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 13:45
Aniani remained motionless and silent. There was no time for fear. The terrorists, she felt better knowing these people had a purpose, were still too loud to have spread to the upper floors. Remaining stationary made it easier for them to find her, and she prayed their boss ordered them up. Even though they could spot her easier, most of the floors were thick enough to be bullet proof. After all, the building was designed to be breathtaking and secure at the same time.
She crouched careful not to put her fingers anywhere near the Uzi's trigger or point the barrel at herself. The “Cathedral Exhibition” lay closest to the East exit. The only thing between her and the exit was a statue installation and then the cafeteria. Both were transparent, offering her little cover. There could be no mistakes, because the terrorists obviously didn't plan to kidnap anyone or steal anything. They wanted a blood bath.
Why? She kept thinking. The modern world had pretty much summarized the rules for terrorist attacks and those certainly didn't feature targets like a modern gallery the day before opening. They would have done so the opening day for more casualties. Terrorists made their point with a lot of hostages, which wasn't the case. These people are sadists, unstable… Suffering from shared psychosis and hallucinations of practicing black magic? Psychology offered ways to explain it, but never prepared for the experience.
Yet, what scared her most was Judy's death. How? She asked herself over and over again. There was no syringe. No poison. No nothing. But she couldn't accept the electric flakes over Judy's head. That was too much and everything around Aniani resembled a nightmare. The bright midday light transported her to a kaleidoscopic house of horror. The slight notion of playing minesweeper in real life helped her relax a bit, but the throb in her glass eye spread to her left. The warmth and stitches made her feel woozy, unbalanced. They smeared her vision. Aniani kept dead center between the two walls so that her shadow would be lost in the stained glass. The figures and animals formed by her own hand now seemed to mock her with silent laughter, just masks, which hid death.
She wanted to distance herself from the fear, from the panic that could make her heart pop. The windows and glass had switched sides and served as her enemy instead of being her protection, her inspiration and her friend. Aniani had grown into the comfort to disappear into the side vision of all people, safely behind her transparent shield. Now she passed her own creation, her best defense, which would betray her the minute she got careless.
She maneuvered among the “Cathedral exhibition”, entering the lighter section with paintings, pottery and metal sculptures aligned against the glass. After that was the marble statue and architectural installation Aniani breathed hard, knowing that she was somewhere near the Northeast side of the building. All she needed was to go south and get the hell out. However that proved to be the most dangerous territory.
Her glass eye warmed further, which she felt, when she worked on her project or overworked her mind. No surprise there. Her heart overworked from the adrenaline and her brain and nerves were on the strain. She felt like her head would burst any second now.
She hesitated before stepping out in the hallways. A man shouted something behind her. Too close behind her. So she stepped into the bright and transparent hallway. She breathed deep and then ran. If she was going to be their target then she would at least make it hard for them to shoot her down.
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 7:54
Aniani stood in front of her favorite book store. Her reflection stared back at her with a dreamy look in its eyes. The small construction fitted like a Tetris piece into the building with its calming green façade. It was the sole reason for her not using the subway and spending a twenty minute ride on the bus and pass through there. The charm lay more in the person, who was inside the building than the bookstore itself.
Not that she didn't enjoy reading. Quite the contrary. Her passion for the written word had let her stumble into finding a new passion of her own, one that was ruled by the heart and not the mind. James, the name printed on his tag, was that passion.
He wasn't anything special. He wasn't a model. He wasn't an Adonis, but she held her breath the first time she heard him speak. He explained something to a client in the book store and that was when she was affected. It wasn't a love at first sight either, since her right eye was missing and the left was swollen.
The chance meeting had happened immediately after the accident six years ago and a missing eye and deprived self esteem made it impossible to face him. Regardless, the chemistry was there, mocking her with its chic lit arrogance. It all boiled down to the mixture of deep man's voice, the kind that gave women goose bumps, and the extraordinary intellect and passion towards his job. How he managed to work at the same place for six years was beyond her. Maybe life just wanted to tease her. Remind her that she could have had him back in her old life, but now could only dream of him.
She eyed him ever so discreetly minute after minute, pretending to search for the perfect book. Soft warmth spread over her right temple, calling her attention. Her glass eye had heated the way it did when she worked as it absorbed the heat from the furnace. No wonder . The intensity of her stare had been quite enough to do that, and James only added to that heat.
But it all rested at that, eyeing him from the safe distance of the store's window. Her heart beat less thanks for the fragile barricade, which ensured no contact between them. She desired him of course, but looked at her reflection. How could he even like me like this? The dead glint in the right eye…disgusting. The permanently immobile eye lid…disgusting. The swollen flesh around my socket…disgusting.
Everything was disgusting. How could someone, who felt revulsion for herself, believe that everybody else would ignore her glass eye? It was the new philosophy of her life, based on a question and Aniani embraced the isolation only to gain safety for her integrity and sanity. She wasn't a risk taker, not anymore, and the maddening safety of loneliness pulled her.
If only … she thought, consumed by the helpless romantic moment, and walked away, her gaze fixed on the bookstore, still indecisive, but about a different choice.
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 14:07
It didn't take them long to spot her. Their reaction was almost immediate. Cries of shattering glass reverberated through the whole hall and returned as a sinister droning, while a rain of shards shredded the air. Aniani froze when the first bullets penetrated the ground and threw herself to the side under the bullet proof glass terraces.
It bought her little time to stand up again and run. Boots stomped over the floors. They are regrouping too fast. This would have gone differently, if the gallery wasn't perched outside the city . Smart architecture and landscape united esthetically, but failed in emergencies. They had probably taken care of the guards; the police wouldn't know a thing.
She stopped, rooted to the floor once more, when an armed man exited one of the exhibitions in front of her. Neither of them moved. Aniani swallowed her heart, but fought to steady her hands. No weakness . It was gunpoint at gunpoint. His bear face was scrunched up. Is he going to shoot already ? He didn't pull the trigger and seemed contemplative. That was all she needed to do something suicidal. She followed her instincts and threw her Uzi. The gun flipped in the air and she darted to the left.
The gun, which turned out to be an automatic, hit the floor. That was all it needed to start a quick succession of blind shots all around. Breaking glass filled the room with sharp moans of pain, while Aniani maneuvered into the mirror room. Fear burned her lungs and crippled her limbs. The mirror room only distanced her more from the exit. But she pushed forward despite her searing ankle.
In the panic, her image came out all over again, elongated by the horror, suit jacket wrinkled and skirt torn at places, hair strewn apart.
Is this me? I'm a ghost, a specter . Among the racket memories of horror stories came back to life. After that she was one with the fear and nothing existed within fear. There was no recognition that she ever passed through here. She was blind and yet seeing.
Her evasive tactics bought her less time that she anticipated. Another more frightening image came in the picture, duplicated a thousand times. The horror of watching that many barrels pointing at her didn't help her get out faster. Shooting commenced again, and Aniani threw herself on the floor when the furious cloud of bullets launched.
Glass shards flew across and savaged. It all went quiet for a bit and that was her cue to get up and run some more. Tiny shards clawed her hands, embedding themselves deeper as tears seared her eyes. Blood oozed and dulled the pain with its warmth. The shooting had stopped. Did they need her alive? Torture her? Let her die? slowly? What did they want? She moaned and then tensed up.
God, no. I am not going to die. I am not going to die. Her tears stung her vision and smudged it with barb wire sensation. The throbbing in her temples increased and she gagged on panic and pain. Aniani focused in on her reflection, broken, shattered on its own. Hive of sobbing faces stared back at her from the broken mirrors. It was unavoidable. She couldn't escape her face and the glass eye. How she wanted to go blind in her last moments so that she wouldn't see herself looking so disgusting in fear.
It hurt her to move. It hurt her even more that her own creation had turned around against her. It pained her to feel what she created struck back. Pain dilated her vision into a blur. She groaned, but moved further.
Pain is my friend. I am alive. As long as I feel pain, I can make it out , she repeated in her mind and crawled. Every day she suffered from depression. Every day she admitted she was dead. Every day she pretended to be recovering from losing her eye, disappearing behind the glass. Physical pain was nothing. It kept her awake. Right now, on her knees, crawling for her life and covered in her own blood, she moved, grateful for the pain.
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 08:03
“You're I late again, Annie. I was just about to ditch you and hop on the subway. We are going to be late,” Judy said, coming out of the coffee shop nearest to the subway entrance. Her smile tilted to the right side of her face, giving her the aura of an actress.
Aniani returned the smile. She should have arrived 15 minutes earlier to go with July to the “Prism” gallery and check everything again for the opening tomorrow, but punctuality wasn't Aniani's forte. Fortunately it had never caused her too much trouble. Besides, Judy always had a knack for finding entertainment while waiting.
“I am sorry. Traffic's a bitch. You know how it is and how many times do I have to tell you. Don't call me Annie. It's insulting.” Aniani said, waving her hands, the same way she did, when she was in high school. Judy, being her high school friend, caught up with the lie and smiled again as she yanked Aniani down the stairs towards the subway.
“Traffic, huh? You seriously think I'm going to buy that crap. I'm blond by dye, not by nature. I know you have been staring at that blonde bookstore guy.” Judy said.
Am I that obvious and desperate?
“Since when have you turned into a super sleuth, Miss Lewis? No comment.” Aniani replied to defend what little remained from her dignity.
“Don't be an ice princess or afraid or whatever you are. You should finally go and say hi. You never know, Annie. Take some chances once in a while.” Judy said smirking in her own devilish way.
“And what do I say to him. I have this glass eye. It's not the greatest asset to flirt with.” Aniani said and went down the stairs. Upon seeing Judy's face, she blurted out. “You might as well say it, as I see you are gonna burst.”
“Aye, Mateys!” Judy shot out like a kid.
“Pirates wear eye patches and I thought at this age, you should have been pretty much mature.”
“It's a start, Annie, and you have many good things going on with your visage. Look at those coffee colored curls and latte skin.” Judy trailed off and whiffed her coffee cup.
“Do you plan on flattering me or drinking me?” Aniani asked and slapped Judy on the shoulder. Judy had a point though, as much as Aniani didn't like to accept it. Being from Hawaii was exotic and sexy, but could it compensate a missing eye. She thought about as they moved with all these people towards the station.
“You should have become a standup comedian. Now look on the bright side. You can change eye color every day and scare the hell out of people on Halloween.” Judy broke the silence and flashed another grin.
“And that is supposed to be fun?” Aniani cocked and eyebrow. “But now to more pressing issues. Stop calling me Annie. What am I, a broken record? I have a real name.”
“Fine, Aniani.” Judy did the jazz hand move as she emphasized on her full name. “Tell me what is this sudden and passionate resistance to go by a more normal name. You used to hate your own.”
“Things change, honey. I changed and that is all,” Aniani said and ended the conversation just as they were about to get on the subway.
She didn't want to explain herself, so early in the morning, packed with so many people and a day before the grand opening. It was simple and yet something Judy couldn't understand. Her full name meant a lot to her after the accident. It was given to her by her grandfather, the man who influenced her so much.
He didn't turn away from her like old friends and relatives who didn't want to dirty their hands caring for a sick person. Despite the wounds and operation, he was there to push her back into life and become what she was now. He was the one who taught her how to work with glass and helped her chase her own dreams although his wishes had rested elsewhere. Of course he helped her make her eye. Much like a shadow he was behind her shoulder until the glass iris turned the right shade of misty green. She owed him a lot; keeping her name the way it really sounded was a small way of repaying him.
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 14:17
Aniani limped out of the exhibitions and was on the outer hallways. Several steps further she entered the gallery's café-restaurant. This was the worst decision so far. By design, constructions unrelated to art directly had to be hosted outside the pyramid shaped main body in spherical domes. Those domes had one entrance and exit connected only to the gallery itself. If she were caught here, it was all over. She'd be in a trap with nowhere to crawl to.
The café-restaurant had been with a miniature botany garden with tables and chairs strewn across patches of oases. Getting there was one hell of a boot camp exercise. Muscles failed her. Aniani needed a place to rest. Only for a moment. Just until her swollen ankle loosened up a bit. The adrenaline rush had suppressed the pain so far, but now there was nothing.
The corridors seemed empty. Eerie silence crept in, filling the space, unnerving and tense. It edged her senses and made her aware of the sound of her breath. What are they doing? God they probably don't want to waste their ammo. Why bother. They have me wounded. God, they will hunt me down like an animal , she thought. The tense feeling that she was being stalked persisted; it was only a matter of time.
I had to take my purse. I could have called the police . She sighed again. Just to make sure she was alive, that this wasn't a hallucination. When pain sparked through her skin, she shook her head and continued. She stepped quickly, trying to see the counter, lost somewhere in between the pools of lush vegetation. Air came easier to her lungs. She couldn't be seen any other way, unless her attacker was in proximity.
She hoped to find a first aid kit. On her way she managed to take out many glass pieces. All that remained were superficial wounds which itched and pulsed in jagged patterns. She needed them bandaged or she would faint from the blood loss. Worse, the dripping blood could betray her path. The cool shades of palm trees welcomed her sweaty body and with each step she eased the tension, building inside her head.
The café itself resembled a small maze, made up by small geometrical boxes of glass, glued together with small oases of trees and flowers, strewn around. The only other material included happened to be metal, which built the chairs, tables and the counter. Aniani circled around the green patches of vegetation to avoid being seen, maneuvering with slow steps.
Her best plan to hide was to meld with her surroundings. The damp smell of soil soothed her senses instantly. The shade these trees created in the hot July sun cooled her skin and eased the searing pain. Her lungs expanded as the flora seemed to push the oxygen into her lungs.
The only warmth emanating from her body came from her glass eye, which spread around to her left as her vision smeared by the heat wave, which radiated from the inside. She hissed and new pain sizzled on her fingertips, after she tried to take it off. What in god's name is happening to me? The warmth intensified, but her skin felt unharmed. She could see with her left eye light glowing from her glass eye, but Aniani was stripped off from her shock.
A foot struck her from the behind, coming out from one of the shrubs. The momentum carried Aniani straight to one of the window walls, which connected three boxes together. There was no way for her to avoid the impact, and she shut her eyes expecting the new pain. Her body clashed with the glass. The force of her fall shattered it to a cloud of crystal flakes pierced PIERCING her skin. Then followed the harsh embrace of a metal chair, accompanied by another sharp blow.
Aniani slumped down with the wind knocked out of her lungs. The pain in her eye became unbearable. It melted with the sharp stab in her wrist and her hip by shards of glass, until the sensation of her nerve endings consumed her in a dark abyss. Darkness blinded her left eye and then light came back.
It felt like traveling in a tunnel and then suddenly being exposed to light. Her vision returned in white haze. Shapes jumped up and down, trying to find their place. Under the pain, everything snapped back into clear focus. Then she realized that the first time in six years, she was seeing with both eyes. Her sight now stretched freely to the right and although everything came with a soft glow, there was no denying it. Both eyes worked perfectly.
Pain had drained and now her temples vibrated with some kind of energy. The intense shine dissolved into the background, and reality charted itself again in front of her. She could see her attacker perfectly, standing behind one of the window walls. But as the light slipped over him and he emerged through the glass, he was surrounded by a silhouette of bright yellow. It looked like a displaced shadow, hovering around the outlines of his shape, never completely overlapping with his frame.
“You've been a real pain in the neck, sweetheart. When I am done with you, little minx, I am going to skin you.” He growled as the yellow light filled in the hollows in his face, forming angry vines. Aniani gasped, the barrel of his gun pointing straight at her.
She looked at her bleeding wrist and held her breath. Not that this was going to change anything for her. She didn't want his smug face plastered with sick lime yellow be the last thing, she would ever see in her life time. But he never pulled the trigger. Grunts followed and that was when she became conscious of her own body. A scorching streak of energy snaked in her veins. She hissed as if it was not blood, but liquid metal fueling her heart. The shard of glass bathed in her blood absorbed that energy. The light falling from the sun above stuck to her glass and morphed, thickening and darkening to an intense purple violet.
“No, wait, we shall extract her soul first and then you can do whatever you want with her.” It was the voice of the leader. She still remembered his words. Harvest their souls, which triggered the chaos.
It was going to end soon. The chase was over, and she would die just like Judy. She withdrew the shard and clutched it between her fingers, until they bled. The shard still pulsed with light and the three of them stared at it in amazement.
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 08:15
“I can't believe that you lose a whole hour of your time to travel from your apartment with a bus to the bookstore and then take whatever subways you want. You must really be in love with that guy,” Judy said after the chaos of people, fighting for seats in the subway had subdued and the both of them finally found a cozy isolated spot in the back of the train.
“It's not just that you know. I like going through the park and seeing all this nature and people walking in it, busy with their lives, bathed in the colors of the world. I have always been interested in how their faces and eyes gave out about what they lives were,” Aniani replied and stilled her skirt the way she wanted. She stretched her neck. It felt stiff from all the staring.
“You are riding with people right now. Left and right. People all around.” Judy motioned towards the full train. “Anyways, let me inform you of what is to come in your career,” she continued.
“The people in the subways aren't real you know. They just sit, composed, emotionless and blank. The most still and innocent could be a psychopath with anger management issues. Seeing people in motion is different. You can see beyond their faces and smart clothes.” Aniani wanted to mention that this was best done behind the window, hidden and isolated from them, but she held her tongue and moved forward with the conversation. “Spill the news, lady.”
“This year a plan to renew the great gothic chapel in town has been voted as a go, and the stained glass windows need someone to take care of. As of now, I pronounce you hired.” Judy explained and tapped Aniani's shoulder. “I was pretty much impressed with the abrupt vote of agreement that you should be the one doing it. Compared to the top dogs in the industry, your work is quite simplistic.”
“Judy, do you seriously doubt my talent?”
“Call me a pessimist, but the competition was fierce. What did you do? Cast a Hawaiian spell on the pictures?”
“Oh you know me better than that, Judy. I wouldn't do that. Besides grandpa never did want to teach me,” Aniani laughed. The thought of her grandfather brought back memories every single time. Her grandfather was an enigmatic man, a business and a deeply tied to his Hawaiian roots and religion glass blower. He was the serene embodiment of the clash between two incompatible cultures. Her name echoed alongside his image, its meaning attached: glass and mirror.
“Seriously though the key to great stained glass art is not how well you make the shapes, but how the colors affect the people. I learned from my grandfather that, when working with colors for stained glass, you need to work with contrast. By that you need to find the perfect color, which complements the one you plan to use.”
“I see a lecture coming…” Judy trailed off in the distance and Aniani was quick to slap her thigh.
“You asked for the answer, so hush and listen. For instance, red and green are such colors and when mixed they form a neutral color in the grey-brown spectrum. It all depends on the shades you use, but this is the general rule. That makes them compatible for contrast and they captivate the viewers. Simple, yet most glass workers go with complicated mosaics, which tire the eyes.” Aniani continued and started scribbling on her notepad ideas for her new assignment. Her mind's eye evoked the windows of the chapel, strewn with saints, brighter, more colorful and real, brought to life with her notes.
“To achieve that effect, of course, you need perfect colors. It's tricky, because you don't always achieve the right shade of one color and then you have to work on the other to achieve the effect wanted. You have to be an artist to notice even the slightest change in a shade, like looking through a prism under a special angle. If you start painting, you will know the difference.”
Date: July 16 th 2008
Time: 14:36
“What the fuck happened?” The man surrounded by yellow asked, viewing the piece of glass, still pulsing with purple. Aniani felt her pain draining, even though her body bore marks of agony.
“Shoot already.” The leader commanded.
Suddenly there was no more fear or adrenaline. Aniani couldn't have felt more relaxed. Perhaps it was the blood loss or her body finally fell in a state of shock, but she remembered the theory of light. Two complimentary colors negated each other and she held the yellow's opposite. It only felt natural to see what would happen and raised the shard in front of her eyes.
Before the man could pull the trigger, she looked through the purple glass. Magic happened. Her glass eye glowed and strings of light coursed through it. They slid on the purple shard of glass and vanished. A second later the shard projected them like a headlight. Everything felt right like she had done this hundreds of times. Yes, it was surreal and impossible. After today that didn't bother her. But she would fight back. She got her life back. She was whole and nobody would rob her.
The man choked all of a sudden, his body, both paralyzed and jerking. It was as if an invisible artillery had cast a rain of bullets all over his body, while he was glued to his place. All the while Aniani watched the yellow surrounding him fade, devoured by the purple, until the mesh turned grey. With it the man stopped breathing. His body fell on the ground with a heavy thump.
“What the fuck are you?” The question came out as a snarl, and Aniani cast her glance at him.
Physically he had morphed to something out of a horror movie, skin grey and translucent, his blood vessels and flesh wrinkled and deteriorated. Then came the color, the dull color of autumn grass, which resembled crayon green. The shine hovered the same way around the man like a faint aura. Or was it a creature? A demon? The assumption came out of nowhere, whispered by her instincts.
It didn't really matter to Aniani. Nothing did, because she found power, her sight, her calling and it coursed through her like mercury, which hardened and then flexed again to control her body. The pain was gone and the bleeding faded in the back of her mind. She had more important things to do and that was to purge. Suddenly like a broken window being mended, she realized this was her life. Her name, her talent, the ease, while shaping the glass, it all led to this power to create and destroy.
The demon ran, abandoning all efforts to shoot her heart like he and the others had done to all of the people in the building, like they had done with Judy. The green aura betrayed his path. The reversion of the roles didn't matter as much she would have previously liked. She bled and even though she didn't feel it, she was done and she had accepted that.
But Judy and all the others injected bitterness in her mouth. Their deaths were unacceptable. These people had lives, had purpose, deserved more time. So Aniani had to hunt them down and kill them like they did.
An eye for an eye. It is only fair. Come now. Why are you running? Aren't you the leader? The all powerful demon? Why don't you come to finish what you started ? She traced the green glow's residue left from the leading demon and she followed. She raised the glass shard and imagined the finest shade of red to match the man's green aura.
The color vibrated in the shard. With her glass eye, she pushed it outward. Red rays fell and broke into a web on the walls' surface. In the distance she heard him groan, then gurgle. After that there was silence. Uzis pierced the air. Walls, exhibitions and statues sunk to the ground, demolished. But Aniani was immune to the guns' noise and the shrapnel grazing at her skin. Even accuracy failed around her.
Step by step she reached the second floor. Her presence seemed to push the men in the opposite direction. Many abandoned their weapons and scurried away. Aniani pressed herself on a solid window glass wall and swept the whole complex with her eyes. Everything was draped in light. Her eyes could distinguish individual strands packed together in a wall.
Her conscious mind slipped through the window walls, ceiling and furniture and let them soak out the light and then form colors, naturally stained glass. The barrier she once used to surround herself now extended and she breathed out one sigh, which contained all of her sighs contained in her lungs for the past year, gathered through the pain and insecurity. She was now free and with her freedom the light pierced the air, creating a meteor shower of color. Whizzing blared, disguised as screams, once light had found its targeted aura. One after another ten auras in the whole complex faded.
Balance was out. Eleven innocent people had died and their loss was irreplaceable, but twelve monsters had died with them to tip the balance. Now one more innocent awaited her fate as blood dripped down the glass, the warmth leaving her. Gravity dragged Aniani down, the blood from her body coloring the surface in red, a natural stained glass masterpiece.