She doesn’t know where she found the crystal. One day she was rummaging in her closet, searching for an old handbag, one that reminds her of her youth, both the mistakes of fashion and the hopes of standing out. She doesn’t mind that she’s reached an age where standing out is a rarity. She wanted to gift the handbag to her niece, someone she felt would appreciate both the gift, and the audacity of its colors and style.
The crystal was nestled into a side pocket. At first, reaching into the dark, she thought it was simply a stone, or some relic of an old snack or lint. But when she pulled it out into the light, it was clearly something special. Even in the dim light coming from outside her closet, there was a brilliance, something that portended opportunity. How did she come by this, she wondered? What escapade could she have possibly had that would have resulted in taking away – and then forgetting – such beauty?
It didn’t make sense, but she put the crystal aside, haphazardly between some clusters of neglected necklaces, while she tended to the handbag. Her mind wandered though, thinking through moments in her past that warranted such a treasure. How much did she not appreciate when she was young, how much was passed aside, dismissed, replaced by gaudy symbols like this bag? Only briefly did she spend thought on the friends she had lost, that she still occasionally pondered reconnecting. They were still friends, even though on both sides time moved faster than the will to reach out. Truly treasures that lost their luster, she thinks.
With regret, both at passing on memories of her youth and lingering feelings about what she was forgetting, she put the handbag on a chair, where she’d remember to pick it up and take it to her friend later.
It wasn’t until evening, after a scrambled sad dinner and apathy on the couch in front of the tv, that she went back to the crystal. She took it from her bedroom into the kitchen, into brighter lights. She turned the small facets over and around, looking for clues to its provenance. She smoothed her thumb over the edges, trying to stimulate a memory. Nothing; but this time she put the crystal down on a small plate and set it next to her bed where she’d see it in the morning and maybe a spark of what was, would come to her.
She sank into sleep unaware, falling readily into dreams. It was then that the crystal memories unlocked. She, who claimed to be a descendant of Babylon, able to capture the memories of her ancestors, awakened in her dream to a massive city. High walls were off in the distance, a crowded street was just at the corner, she walked instinctively into the rivers of people. As dreams do, she didn’t stumble as she kept her eyes to the world around her, she stepped confidently down the road in and around people and obstacles, all the while scanning the buildings, the fuzzy people with colorful draped clothing, the tan brick she’d expect from an ancient cityscape. It was dusty, and yet somehow more humid than she had ever experienced. She couldn’t remember how she had traveled from her home, but she knew that she belonged in this world. She looked down to see the sandals on her feet, a swirling skirt that matched the swirls of others around her.
There was someplace she needed to go, that she knew, though all she could muster was a sense that down this street that place would present itself. It wasn’t a surprise that a few minutes later, she dropped into a crowded square, people and shops and market stalls all around, a buzz of noise from the people around her. He’s here, he’s coming, look over there, he’s here, the words ran over themselves and again, and she could see to her right, coming down a narrow but bright side street, a procession of some kind. She didn’t want to intrude, but she somehow knew it was right that she pushes through the crowds towards the procession.
She turned in her bed, adjusting towards the crystal and then back into the deep sleep.
She felt that sense of pulling her eyes up to lock in with another person, it was so powerful, her vision tunneled to his eyes, staring right back at her. It was almost painful, the feeling that she had found her goal, that this unknown person had something important for her. She walked to the corner of the narrow street, connecting with the procession, as the man stepped down from his conveyance to meet her.
Dreams don’t speak, but she looked at him, he looked back, and everything was clear. She reached into her voluminous skirt, easily finding a pocket, and smoothly pulled out the crystal. In the square, among the dusty stones, it gleamed even brighter than it had in her house. It had a strength to it, a determination. She continued to stare at the man, holding the crystal between them in her hand, not breaking away as she began to hear shouts, crumbling booms from a distance. She was the only one who seemed to realize something was happening, the only one to hear the destruction. She broke her gaze and looked at the crystal, in between the bright shine, she could see land, a dream within a crystal, something she was somehow making happen.
Egypt was no more. That she knew. The noises in the background faded, she closed her hand over the crystal and nodded to the man. Her work was done, she had wrought great damage as asked, and with that, she turned over once more, grasping her pillow tightly as she burrowed further into the bedsheets.
Worlds 