Slow Burn Glass Novels & Stories

My door was already open. Emberlyn hunched over a cauldron of silver liquid, bubbling with the viscosity of something not quite chemical, not quite alive. Cornrow braids glowing faintly. Bioluminescent strands sparking static. Glasses fogged with steam, lenses opaque. The look of someone who'd gone blind from staring too long at what shouldn't be seen.

Please. *Answer me.* The Scorchmark *cracked.* Not breaking. *Opening.* A seam appeared in the black glass. Widening. And from within— *Light.* Not silver. Not red. *Both.* Intertwined. Spiraling. *Beautiful.* The light surged upward. Coalesced. And when it faded— A blade remained. Hovering above the crack. Waiting. It was *magnificent.* The metal was dark—almost black—but traced with veins of silver and crimson that pulsed like a heartbeat.

The shield is made of flaming glass, curved to enclose my entire body within its protection. My tattoo’s light up in reaction and I wonder how the hell this is happening. In a sea of fiery red, I stare in amazement at the sight before me, and my attacker grunts in anger and puts more force on his powers. My arm trembles due to the pressure and heat of the fire against the glass, and I try my best to hold it in place when it becomes clear I might not be able to do so for much longer.

His face softened as he watched her think, and when her furrowed brows were replaced with wide-eyed realization, he had to look away to press back a smile. Toby tapped on the thin broken glass as he got the ball rolling, “So, instead of putting the tungsten wire in the bulb like a normal lightbulb, they lined in along the internal wall of the glass. With the heat accumulated from an extended period of the bulb being lit, it cracked the glass.” Phelton then continued, “When the glass broke, the light went out and the substance inside got out.”

It’s as if it holds the answer to all of her questions. The melted glass rested on the ground, beating, as though something that had been given life. It had certain sluggishness and softness that gave Z the desire to touch it. Unconsciously, her knees hit the ground, her arms slowly reaching for the beating glass. The moment the tip of her finger touched its hot surface, a heat like no other traveled to her cells. There was a loud creak, and the next thing she knew, she was already leaning on the headboard, her heart and head pounding like there’s no tomorrow.

​They were glowing. ​The black veins on their wrists were pulsing with a brilliant, golden light that pushed back the green shadows. Sula was standing in the center of the crowd, her spear held high, the solar glass tip burning like a miniature sun. The emerald glass crawled toward her feet and then shattered, unable to cross the circle of the nomads’ natural heat.

She wanted to extinguish the spark before it could breathe. Rowan moved, but he was slow. The black vines tripped him, pinning him to the floor. I didn't have time to use the blade. I didn't have time to think. I grabbed the jar and I slammed it against the stone pedestal. The glass didn't just break. It **Dissolved**. The spark of white fire hit the air and instantly expanded. It wasn't an explosion of light; it was a wave of **Color**.

She said she felt dizzy and nauseous, possibly a mild concussion, and needed to be taken down the mountain immediately. The doctor's eyes lit up at once. He turned to me, his voice urgent. "Ms. Lawson, this is our chance. They're heading down the mountain. If we follow them, we can get you to a hospital. Just hold on a little longer!" I did not have the strength to respond. I could only let out a faint, helpless breath. The doctor found a snowmobile used for transporting supplies. At the same time, Sean was already at the helipad, waiting for the helicopter he had called for Wendy.

I blurted out, drunk, as we walked past the photo frame of Nick’s grandfather. “Oh my, what do we have here?” I slapped my hands on his muscles as he carried me. I chipped in, “I bet you drink your steroids out of a glass though, right?” “Well, did you know that glass is liquid? A liquid that holds another liquid. Neat, right?” Nick set me down on the bed with a bit of a jolt, but I didn’t miss a beat in our conversation. “If you were capable of having emotions, you’d appreciate it. Glass flows so slowly that it appears solid. That’s why it’s so fragile. Hard but fragile,” I spoke quietly until I dozed off.

He amplified the vibration of the air molecules in the doorway a thousand times in a nanosecond. He turned a campfire into a blast furnace. BOOM! It wasn't an explosion of shrapnel; it was a directional blast of pure thermal shock. The air in the doorway turned white-hot. The Ice Corpses didn't burn. They shattered. Rapid thermal expansion. When you heat frozen glass too fast, it explodes. The corpses, made of frozen flesh and brittle bone, couldn't handle the sudden shift from -30 degrees to +1000 degrees. CRACK-SHATTER-POP!