Devil's Telepathy

It's been a long day and just as I'm about to crash onto my bed, a shiny piece of glass catches my eye. I lift it out of the pile of my postcards. It is a crystal, my crystal. This crystal had clung onto my neck, strung with a piece of black thread, for most part of my childhood. I had believed this crystal to be a wishing one, but never got a chance to find out. Now, at twenty-eight, I don't have much use for a crystal, whether an ordinary one or a wishing one. I shout for Natalie, my fifteen year old sister. I guess it's time to pass it on, maybe turn it into an heirloom and pass it down, generation-to-generation. 

Natalie bursts into my room. It is rare that I invite her into my room and she is definitely very bewildered. I gesture her to come sit next to me on the bed. As I hand her the crystal, she asks me a bundle of questions. I chuckle softly and begin my narration of the events that had occurred on that fateful day.

* * *

It was early in the morning, a little too early if you ask me. The morning was cold, like the Devil had possessed the weather. Grandma had always said that Friday the thirteenth was when Satan is most powerful and seizes the day. I  miss her on those days when the weather is so cruel. I miss her hot cocoa and marshmallows. I clumsily filled my mug with coffee, in my half-asleep state and walked lazily to the balcony which overlooked the serene beach.

To start off the day, I decided to take a stroll on the sands of the beach as I had done many years ago when I had initially arrived there. I drowsily walked, feeling the soft, moist sand on my bare feet, so preoccupied in my thoughts that I barely paid any attention to the people whispering and pointing. I walked on until I came to a clearing where the antique shop stood.

It is the kind of shop that seemed to have popped right out of a fairy tale. Thick ivy dropped over the sides of the building like tousled hair. The insides were furnished with paintings and tapestries. As I walked in, I was ushered in by the owner.

Mr. Burnell was a short man, who was about the age of forty-two, with a deep tan which made him look a lot younger. He had a receding hairline and thick, bushy eyebrows. Under his furrowed eyebrows lay deep brown eyes with long eyelashes. If my memory serves right, he was wearing a deep purple pullover paired with his usual khaki pants. I looked around the shop a bit and stopped at a tiny box with many tiny crystals inside. They weren't the typical crystals that are embedded in your jewelry, those are a lot bigger but not any bigger than a toddler's thumb. Curious, I took one in my hand and held it out toward the rising scarlet sun, I asked Mr. Burnell what they were. He gave me a thoughtful smile and beckoned me forward.

As I got closer, he whispered in his slight Scottish accent, rolling the R's, "Now, child, these ain't no ordinary crystals here. These are recovered from the damaged chandeliers, and some of them are magical, they say."

"Magical how?"

"Some are wishing crystals and grant you a wish."

"Just one?"

"Yep, kiddo, just one. Here, you may take one home, if you like."

I hesitated, but I loved anything that seems supernatural. Our father was too pleased with my love for the paranormal. He was constantly warning me to get rid of those insane thoughts of mine, but I had been convinced of the existence of mystical happenings and creatures ever since my encounter with a pixie-like creature I had had, many years ago. But, much later, I wondered if that was just a kid dressed up a little too early for Halloween

A voice in my head, some may call it intuition (I guess something like the Peter tingle) told me to take the one I had first held. I nodded to Mr. Burnell and reached for the chosen one, when he held my hand and remarked, "Missy, you be careful with that. A'ight?" I gave him a reassuring smile, thanked him and told him to have a lovely morning. 

As I walked home, I began to wonder if that might be a wishing one. The voice replied, "Yeah, maybe, depends on what you believe. What do you really believe?" Good question, I thought. I had almost made it to the Grocery Store when I heard my name. I stopped in my tracks and listened for it again, but the blanket of silence hugged the air once again, but that felt like the eerie silence that occurs before something unfortunate happens. I hurried towards the store and there it was again. Soft and raspy, "Keith Winston." With a start, I realized that no one was actually calling my name. It was all in my head, quite literally. Completely freaked out, I headed home to tell Thelma. As soon as I turned around, I came face to face with a tall woman. She looked about 30 years old, but the gray streaks in her hair said she was much older. She was wearing a black shirt and pencil skirt with black stilettos. Even her makeup was mostly black. I had never seen anyone like her. She reminded me of Angelina Jolie in Maleficent 2. She looked straight into my eyes, as though trying to look into my soul and snatch it right out. I tried to move out of the way, but I was paralyzed with fear and trepidation and my words came out as squawk.

She was extremely silent but her eyes were glinting and her lips were curled into the faintest little smirk, as though mocking my inability to comprehend the situation. Her silence was deafening. I suddenly remembered my crystal and tried to decide what exactly to wish for, to get me out of there. But there it was again, that voice. Except now, her lips were moving. "Why aren't you worshiping me mortal?" she said. "Not interested, thanks." I said casually in my head. "You dare defy me? The Goddess of Death herself?" she bellowed glaring at me. I gasped, there was no way she could have read my mind, but when she 'spoke' again, I sensed Death calling me. I heard her voice. I feared she would claim my life, but what she wanted was so much worse.