Crack in an Hour-glass
by Betty Gordon
A wrecking ball shattered the Hancock building along with its history. City fathers decided this 1825 structure spoiled their contemporary asphalt jungle. The ball did its job and the building was reduced to rubble—all, that is, but one enormous concrete slab suspended in the air under metal ropes.
The ball, determined to raze the entire building into nameless rubble, came at it again with force. The slab remained thumbing its nose at so-called progress.
Workers scratched their heads. Then, one of the men saw something and called to the others.
I thought it peculiar, but I’ve seen many strange things in the Hancock. Then, one of the men said, “Look at that. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes I wouldn’t believe it.”
The other guys shaded their eyes trying to see what he was pointing at.
Then, “Dear God in Heaven, it’s the face of Jesus. Look at the hair, the sad expression, and it even looks like he’s wearing a crown of thorns.”
“Naw, the sun’s playing tricks on you, old man.”
“Look harder. Doesn’t anyone see it? Besides that, I see other faces and eyes looking at us.”
The men shook their heads as they walked away.
I wanted to call them to stop and look again at what they were destroying, but it was no use. They couldn’t hear my voice. Only my friends in the slab could hear me—we’d been together a long time.
[Betty Gordon, a native Texan, follows her dream to write mystery manuscripts that will find their way to publication. She graduated from the University of Houston-Downtown with a B.S. in Professional Writing and from U of H-Clear Lake with a M.A. in Literature, Creative Writing, and a M.A. in Visual Arts.]