Glass Library Series Novels & Stories

He was engineering our joy with the same precision he applied to our plumbing. The patterned glass was installed in the frame of the “Helper Path Bridge.” True to his prediction, at 3:17, a low winter sun cut through the geometric patterns and threw a dazzling, shifting kaleidoscope of color across the raw subfloor of the annex and, in a long stripe, across the threshold into his study.

The architectural marvel that was the Sorgentone estate had always been referred to by the architectural trades as "The Fortress of Glass." It was made with an aggressive, hyper-modern, minimalist profile to get the most out of the panoramic views of the Pacific. But glass, Silas Thorne knew, was ultimately just sand that had been forced to clear its throat under extreme heat. It was brittle. It was a boundary line that gave the illusion of a barrier while remaining entirely transparent to anyone with the patience to study its flaws.

I looked down through the glass floor, staring at the cars that looked so small driving around. Kirk eventually turned me from the sight and lead me away. We took the elevator down the center of the needle. “There is an exhibit here you might like.” I chuckled as I let him lead me. My eyes widened as we walked into a garden made entirely of glass. The colors were bright and vibrant, looking almost like we stepped into another planet. There was also a greenhouse-like structure with a huge glass sculpture hanging from the ceiling.

“You don’t know what trap he’s setting. Don’t walk into it alone.” “I walked into Vincent’s world alone. I can survive Malachai.” “That’s what scares me,” he muttered. She walked past him, her heels clicking like a countdown. Midnight, House of Glass, Paris The House of Glass was a modern art installation located in the heart of the city, an angular, mirrored building with walls that reflected the night like shards of reality. The entire place shimmered under the moonlight. Grace entered through the side, her footsteps echoing on the pristine floors.

With the last book touched by my fingertips, I decided to leave for today and return tomorrow early, to browse properly this time. When I looked at the big glass window of the library, the moon was already up, giving a majestic glow into the room, multiplied by the glass as it gives that surreal feel when passing by. The ornaments laid out in the sofas and tables placed in front of the glass window glints by the moonlight, as if they’re gems and jewels. Even the little pieces of glass that stood like a little mountain by the table. ‘Wait, little piece of glasses?’

She scolded herself inwardly: she was his assistant, nothing more. Halfway to Lyon, Alexander snapped his laptop shut. “You’ve read the project brief?” “Twice,” she said. “The client wants modern glass that respects Lyon’s classical stonework, a statement without arrogance.” His eyes searched hers. “And you?” She hesitated. “The city is full of history. The design should honor that. Let the glass reflect it rather than compete.” A long silence. Then a barely-there smile. “You may surprise me yet, Miss Hart.”

He stared intently at my face; the contempt and disdain in his eyes was long replaced by shock and disbelief. Just then, the doctor walked in holding an autopsy report, his tone tinged with regret. “This is Carol’s autopsy report. “Her chest cavity was pierced by glass shards, directly rupturing her heart. “The wound appeared minor on the surface, but the damage was severe, leading to massive post-injury bleeding. “If she had received timely medical attention, she could have survived. What a pity...” “Heart... pierced...” Mom murmured these words repeatedly, her legs giving way as she nearly collapsed.

The light coming through a hundred years of the same glass. "It's right," he said. "Yeah." Eli lowered the glass carefully. "It's right." They were in the second-floor room with the afternoon light and the salvage glass and four weeks of proximity that had been building toward something neither of them had named. Noah was aware of the window frame behind him. He was aware of Eli three feet away wrapping the glass sheet carefully in the protective cloth it had come in. He was aware that he had driven here on his inventory Friday in forty-five minutes because he'd wanted to see the glass and because that was not the only reason.

There was nobody behind it anymore, but she instantly understood. She whipped around to stare at me, her eyes practically bulging out of their sockets as her entire body trembled. "Tobias… you… you replaced the mirror? You set me up?" I slipped my hands into my pockets and smiled brightly. "Ms. Sutton, that's an odd thing to say. I only wanted to make it easier for the two of you to admire each other's beautiful figures. How was I supposed to know you'd be so impatient that you'd start handing out employee benefits in broad daylight? No need to thank me. Just doing my job."

Of course, they did. The hall outside Salle C opened onto a long arcade of stained-glass windows. The late afternoon had slipped toward evening, the light fading from washed-out gray to bruised color. Sun slanted through the glass in bands of red, gold, and blue that painted the stone walls and the polished floor in shards of borrowed fire. Her muscles hummed from the fight, a pleasant ache in her arm where the foil had bitten into her grip. She could still feel the ghost of Noah’s shoulder against her chest. The sharp, ugly sound he’d made when she’d turned him.