Monday, July 18, 2011

The Good Crystal

His wife had yelled at him again.  Sinclair did not yell back; rather, he did what he had always done.  In a drawer, behind his underwear and socks he hid a box.  Inside this secret box were several necklaces and rings; gold, silver, platinum and the like.  These were a distraction.  Underneath the assorted jewelry and another wooden layer laid the true secret: a crystal.  It wasn’t anything particularly special on the surface.  It was transparent and pretty, of course, but so were others.  What was inside mattered.

Sinclair took out the crystal and held it toward the light.  It shimmered as he closed his eyes.  Bulbs burst inside the ceiling fan.  His hairs stood up on end; blue aura encompassed him.  The crystal was absorbing.  Sinclair thought that after twenty years he would finally control it but he was wrong.  It had taken too much again.

Every time the crystal grew stronger and him weaker.  It was a small price to pay, he thought.  His wife, Rebecca, would never know his anger as his old wife had.  She had left him and he deserved it; Sinclair did not deny it in his mind.

“Sinclair!” Rebecca yelled, coming up the stairs.  He reached for the crystal still floating midair.  He grasped it as she turned the knob.

“You never stand up for yourself!”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, hiding the crystal behind him.

“What’s that you’re holding?”

“Nothing… just standing casually.”

“Let me see it.”

“Let you see what?”


He gave in, holding out the crystal toward her.

“Is that…”

Sinclair held his breath.  Could she possibly know?

“A present for me?”

“Um,” he began thinking, “it is!”

“It’s beautiful.”

Rebecca took it in her hand.  Sinclair was relieved to see her happy.

“I hope you like it.”

“How couldn’t I?”

Her face changed.  It was as if she were choking.  Rebecca’s cheeks began to bleed.  Bruises took over her arms.  Hair was being pulled by some sinister, invisible force.  Sinclair ran toward her, ripping the crystal out of her hand.  It turned on him.  His leg twisted and his back broke instantly.  He couldn’t move.  Rebecca was still.  Had she?  No.  Sinclair refused to believe it had happened again.

She would get better and leave him, of course; but she would still be okay, just like Suzanne.  But Rebecca wasn’t breathing like Suzanne.  It was all he saw.  His neck couldn’t turn.  The crystal still glowed, releasing years of pent up rage.

Sinclair’s eyes closed but the flashing didn’t go away; it couldn’t.  Every instance of light reminded him; why had he given it so much…

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