Flash Fiction: The calling Crystal

Image by Dieter from Pixabay

The Calling Crystal sat on the old oak shelf, its smooth, translucent surface glowing faintly under the dim light of the attic. Clara had always been drawn to it, though she had never quite understood why. Her grandmother, who had passed just last year, had always warned her never to touch it.

“There’s power in that crystal, child,” her grandmother had said, her eyes flickering with an odd, unreadable caution. “And power has a way of calling out to those who aren’t ready.”

Clara had long dismissed the warning as superstition, a relic of an older time. But now, alone in the attic with the quiet weight of her grandmother’s absence pressing on her, the crystal beckoned her.

It was a soft call at first, like a whisper carried on the wind, but it grew louder the longer she stared at it. Her heartbeat quickened, matching the rhythm of the pulse she felt thrumming from the crystal. Something within it was alive, aware.

Compelled, she reached out.

The instant her fingers brushed against the cool surface, the attic seemed to dissolve. The walls blurred, the air thickened with a hum, and the ground beneath her feet shifted. Clara gasped, her senses overwhelmed. She wasn’t in the attic anymore. She stood in a vast, otherworldly space, the crystal now in her hand glowing brighter than ever.

In the distance, a figure appeared—a woman, radiant and tall, dressed in robes that shimmered like starlight. The woman’s eyes were kind, but there was something ancient and infinite about her presence.

“You’ve answered the call,” the woman said, her voice soft but clear, as if it resonated from the depths of the universe. “You were chosen, Clara.”

Clara’s throat tightened.  “Chosen for what?”

“To inherit the power of the Calling Crystal. To guard the balance between worlds. To be its voice when the time comes.”

Clara’s mind raced. The crystal… the power… it had all seemed so harmless. So simple. But now, she understood. The weight of the responsibility settled upon her, a burden she hadn’t asked for, yet one that felt strangely familiar.

“What do I do now?” she whispered.

“Now,” the woman said, smiling gently, “you learn.”

And with that, the space around Clara shifted once more, and she was back in the attic, the crystal warm in her palm.

For the first time, Clara understood the warning her grandmother had given. The crystal had called her because she was ready, but readiness didn’t mean ease. It meant the beginning of something far greater than she could have ever imagined.

The calling had begun.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie


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