Glass house (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I loved looking at the big imposing building, every time I strolled past, my straying eyes would always seek out the glasses which seemed to cover the length and breadth of the house. One day after school, I decided to speak to my mom about the mysterious house and its elusive occupant.

I had finished my lunch when I brought up the topic and knowing how my mom detested gossiping, I put on my most innocuous look, mom had once told me I had dreamy eyes so I reckoned If I gave her a shot of that she wouldn’t be so keen to shut me up.

”Hey mom,” I began tentatively, trying to see if she was in a good mood, ”Do you know anything about the owner of the glass house down the street?”

She glared at me with a hiss and stood up totally ignoring me, and I grunted in dismay, it was like squeezing water out of a rock, my mom wouldn’t  assuage my hyperactive imagination.

The next day after school, I told my best friend about the glass house that I wanted to check it out, would she care to come with me?

”Not on your life,” she had replied unconvincingly but I knew Tia, she would do anything for me.

”Please!” I begged with my cutest smile and dreamy eyes… well…, she succumbed. I smiled with satisfaction but also knew I was treading on dangerous terrain.

”When are we going?” Tia asked with a frown, I noticed she wanted to get it over with.

”Today after school,”

I said and the day flew past like a fly on a mission.

After school, with my bag slouched over my shoulder,  we walked home, Tia was exceptionally quiet, after walking for about twenty minutes, we got to the front of the glass house and I hesitated briefly.

Tia looked at me and asked in a whisper,

”Do you really want to go ahead with this?” And I nodded in the affirmative.

”So, how are we going to get in? We can’t climb over the fence.”

Tia was becoming more of a pest than a friend and I toyed with the idea of going in alone but I couldn’t risk it, what if something went wrong? I glanced briefly at my wristwatch, it was almost three in the afternoon, mom would be worried if we don’t go home soon.

Without thinking, I pressed the white bell attached to the massive gate and suddenly the gate flung open to show a breathtaking view of the house, dazed with the beauty, I sauntered in, I’d totally forgotten I was with Tia.

Tia had done a disappearing act, I took a few paces inside the gate and I saw a figure standing outside the house, the man’s features was not that visible but he looked quiet old. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in, I retreated backwards with a word of greeting to the man,

”Good afternoon, you’ve got a beautiful house!”

”Thank you, why not come in,”  his baritone voice sounded friendly but something else made up my mind for me.

There was no mistaking the sound, it was a low rumbling growl, I glanced sideways and saw a very massive Alsatian dog, I didn’t wait to find out whether the dog was on a leash or not before I took to my heels.

I got home to meet a very angry mother, Tia had told my mom about our little escapade. Well, if you’d read a few things about my mom, you would have known the rest of the story. When my dad came back from work and mom told him what happened, dad took me to the garden with a stern look on his face.

I turned to face him, expecting an earful but he simply asked me why I went to the house.

”I’ve heard people say strange things about the man and I was curious, I wanted to find out for myself.”

My dad kept quiet for a while before speaking and let me repeat that his words stuck with me till today.

”Life is not a story, it is not fiction, life is real. In stories, you make up people and tell them what to do but in life, people do the strangest thing in the confines of their homes. You were lucky today, don’t ever go where you were not invited, ever again.”

I realised my mistake, I mused, the man could have been a serial killer but I wasn’t convinced, maybe, he was a man with secrets but who doesn’t have one?

”Yes dad,” I said with eyes downcast and then it occurred to me.

”Can I write about him dad, my story, my own words,”

My dad smiled and gave me the go ahead to write the story.

I wrote ”The Man In The Glass House” when I was thirteen, in my own words. The man was not a villain, in my mind, he was a hero, I don’t know anything about him, nobody does and I guess what people don’t know they made up.

I wrote the man’s story in a notebook, when I finished, I gave it to my dad to read, he loved it and gave it to his secretary in the office who typed it for me. But publishers thought my imagination was too strong for a girl my age and that was where it ended until this morning when I found my notebook in the loft while rummaging for some stuffs.

And I made a promise to myself to write the man’s story. The man died before I left home, I stood outside the house after he was buried, wondering why he was such a recluse, with no family nor friends, at least I don’t see anyone near his house.

One day, I am going to release the story of the man in the glass house, would you read it when I do?

Thanks for reading my story friends!