The glass wall

The salon was full of ladies and gentlemen, wearing luxury outfits and expensive jewels. They were partying, drinking champaign, and eating exquisite meals, laughing and talking about how delightful the gathering was. In the air, there was a mix of costly perfumes and the scent of the alcohol. Smooth music wrapped everything. Many were dancing happily.

The room was vast, with only one door, and many golden Solomonic columns. There were beautiful corners with fauteuils and little tables where people were talking and laughing.

On the other side of the room, it was a thick Glass wall with some figures of angels carved on it white and translucid. You could see an incredible landscape from there, but nobody was paying attention. All the focus was on the feast that was taking place in the room.

Suddenly, a rumble startled everyone’s comfort. A man opened the door violently — a man in dirty clothes, wounded and looking tired and desperate.
All the looks turned on him. Some of the revelers covered their noses to don’t feel the odor of sweat and blood. After him, there were more people, men, women, and children, also looking bad. They said nothing. They only began to follow their leader through the room. Some of the people who were at the party tried to stop them, but they didn’t want to engage in a fight with dirty people. Most of them turned around to don’t see the painful procession of the misery in the middle of the luxury they had accumulated for themselves.

When they reached the Glass wall, they stopped. The leader knew his goal was to go to the other side. But how? There was no door.
He rested his tired front and his hands in the wall, and somehow, his hands stained with blood began to sink into the glass as if it were water, and little by little, his whole body trespassed the wall. All the dirt and blood remained on the glass wall inside the room, and he reached the other side, clean and healthy. His followers tried to do the same, and everyone crossed, leaving their misery behind. They began to run free across the green fields under a bright sun.

Inside the room, some of the people who had seen them cross the wall tried to do the same, but they clashed against the enormous window, hard as a rock.

They began to look outside and appreciate for the first time how beautiful the world was outside their party.

But they didn’t dare to get near the dirtiness that all those people had left on the wall.

Nevertheless, one of them, desperate to cross, became wholly stained with the misery of the dirty pilgrims.

When he was about to quit, he laid a hand on the wall, and it began very slowly to sink into the glass. He had found the way.

#FOWC: Allegory

Author: Olga Brajnović

Journalist and writer. I've worked for 26 years in a newspaper in Spain. I worked for two years as a stringer and correspondent in the US and went as a special envoy to other places like the Balkans. Author of a biography. Sea lover. Avid reader. Classic Music enthusiast.

2 thoughts on “The glass wall

    1. Olga Brajnović says:

      It’s inspired in a dream i had once. The dream was more complicated but basically that was what happened.


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