Flash Fiction Month 2020 Day 11

Today’s story is about mining, stained glass and breaking rules.


The mine was little more than a pasture with a deep collapsed pit in the centre. Though small, this one excavation had supplied stained glass to all the temples in the county for generations. Signs pinned to the fence warned trespassers not to cross the boundary, to not enter the sacred site, but every year some did. If lucky they were found by the clergy and only put to death.

Simon Patretous was not so lucky. Wishing to show disrespect for the old order, Simon waited by the fence until the sun dipped and the sky darkened. When he felt safe to work by shadows, he threw a rope over the barrier and climbed up.

Inside, night silenced the mine as much as it silenced the surrounding countryside. Simon waited by the fence until he was sure no patrol was going to uncover him, then taking his shoes off to mute his steps further, he walked across the grass to the mine itself.

When they found him in the morning, the stained glass had first cut into the soles of his feet, from there becoming molten until it flowed into his features and reset his eyes and mouth and cheeks to coloured glass.

The clergy thought about harvesting the glass for use in one of the lesser temples, but whatever happened after he was turned to glass had powdered him to dust and splinters and there was little to save.

Instead, they trampled the remains into the dirt and told the story to the children in the local schools as a warning to never to ignore the notices, though they knew there would soon be another Simon Patretous to press into the churned up dirt.

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