hay that aint my crystal

your fears subside a little, as an attractive woman, perhaps in here mid-therties, enters from a passage in the far wall. Your eyes trail down from her face, to her form, and rest on knee high wading boots. Wading boots? Like for fishing? This can't be good. Her mouth opens, and in a somewhat raspy voice, she says"your crystal pattern is by now,, complete. A blinding pain, that could best be described as an oak tree taking root in the back of your skull, stuns you into peralysis. Blured memories sugest, she may have had some sort of device. She is definetly stairing down at you now. A minute ago you had a variety of thought of what you might do with her; now your going to grab her, take that thing away, and demand an explination. If only you could move. She reaches to the base of you of your skull and retrieves a piece of dull white quartz. You think, how long has that been there? Then your thoughts are more like, blue, blue on a baloon, stuck to a wall with static electricty. What color is the wall? Not good.

Written by KiPo

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