Birth of the Lucifer Star, chapter 3 the gift of prophecy

Shirley  opened her eyes. The soft air was ecstasy for every crease of her soul. She was awake. Her eyes followed the iridescent lavender curtains as they danced to the music of the new morning’s song. The French doors were open and sharing their view like windows to her soul. She could hear the autumn’s brilliant hued  leaves rustling in the soft breeze. She could hear the subtle calls of the birds to their lovers and friends. She heard a mockingbird telling her his favorite memories. He sang with his heart what his mind could not create. She could see squirrels playing tag through the trees, and she could feel the warmth of life with the crisp dew filled air.
       
She snuggled into her silky black sheet. She closed her eyes and breathed in the most magical air. When she exhaled, she rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes. She glanced at the ceiling and let her sparkling brown eyes fall to the other side of the bed. A wave of sadness washed over her followed by a rush of sweetness when she notice a single yellow tulip in a clear smooth glass vase next to the bed on the art deco nightstand. She marveled over the fantastic simplistic beauty of a single yellow tulip in a plain glass vase. That something so small and seemingly insignificant could fill her with such joy and hope.   Yesterday was a nightmare, the morgue cold and inhuman.  She was so close to spilling her guts, admitting to the most unthinkable crime.

Shirley had trusted in her own strength.  She turned over and gradually sat up on the bed.        As she took in the air and thought about what she would do today. She would cook today, she decided. She had not cooked in months, and she felt that it was time that she started doing normal things again, like cooking..
               
She wondered if they had anymore of those blue scented candles. She remembered Darren saying that he liked the scent. She would have to find them. And music, how could she forget the music. She decided to mull it over in the shower.
       
       
She took her purple dress and hung it on the bathroom door. She let her silk nightgown fall from her body and let it lie on the floor. She looked over her body in the mirror. She had lost some weight during the past few years. Her shoulders were always wide, now they seemed to show more bone in them. Her neck seemed longer as she noticed her shoulders. Her breasts had not changed, still they clung to her large and ivory. Her waist slimmed down to her large fertile hips and glided down to her small feet. She wat entirely satisfied with her figure, but it was tolerable.
       
She turned on the water in the shower and then brushed her long silky straight brown hair to remove the tangles of sleep. In the shower she nurtured her body with many aromatic shampoos and body washes. After her shower she sat at her black iron vanity, staring into its mirror trying to decide what to do with her hair.

Her peace was interrupted by the steady ring of the door bell.  She let it ring and then decided she must answer it.  She slowly made her way to the front door.  She looked out the peep whole but no one was there.  She unlocked the door, and stuck her head out,

No one was there, but a small package was lying on her front stoop.  Shirley bent down to retrieve the small box addressed to her.  She noticed that  the return address was in North Dakota.  The name of the sender, a Roberth Ghostwolf.  Shirley had no idea who that could be, so she brought the box inside and put it on the kitchen table.  The phone rang startling Shirley at her self hypnotic gaze of the box.  

“Hello?” Shirley quizzed.

“Hello, Shirley Cohan?” Said the gruff voice on the other end of the line.  “This is the lieutenant that was handling the case of your missing fiancé, do you remember me??”

“Certainly, good morning Mr. O’Toole, how are you?”  Shirley asked.

“Fine, I’d like to stop by and ask you some questions, do you have time this morning?”

“I have a speaking engagement this afternoon, so it will have to be now, I’ll be here until  1:00 pm.” Shirley announced.

“Great, I’ll be there in about half an hour, ok?  Asked O’Toole.

“That will be fine.”  Shirley said.
       
Suddenly she began to panic. Her heart began to race and she could feel it pumping through her chest. She found it hard to breathe, she was gasping for air. Her vision began to blur and she felt dizzy. Tears poured out of her eyes, she began to sob uncontrollably. She crawled into the bathroom and began rummaging through the top drawer for her medication. The overwhelming urge to start screaming and crying took her over. She searched frantically for the bottle. It had to be here, she told herself. Finally she held the bottle in her hands. She struggled with the top until it finally popped off, scattering the pills all over the bathroom floor. She popped a couple in her mouth and ducked her head under the faucet and turned on the water. She swallowed the pills and slumped into the corner of the bathroom by the oval tub. She sat there clenching and shaking.

“You gotta get a hold of yourself, Shirley girl.”  She stood up straight, and combed her hair and proceeded to wash her face with cold water.  She sat drenched by the sink, and realized she had to speak that afternoon.  She suddenly ran around in a rush trying to tie up loose ends.  She then spied the box on the kitchen table, it would have to wait.  She brought the box upstairs to her bedroom and tossed the box on her dresser….

The doorbell rang, Shirley was as ready as she’d ever be…she answered the door.

Lieutenant  O’Toole was at the door with another detective.

“come in Mr. O’toole, said Shirley.  “I went to the morgue yesterday….”

“Yes Miss Cohen,that is why I am here.”  Said  O’Toole.  “You didn’t recognize that man did you?”

“Not at all, I was very relieved it wasn’t my Darren.”  Shirley mused.  “That guy looked like an Indian to me.”

“Yes, well his real name was Robert Ghostwolf, he was from North Dakota.”

“Well he had Darren’s wallet on him, the Dr. told me that much.”  Shirley confided.

“Did Darren ever mention this man to you? Or anything?” O’Toole queried.

“No, never, I think I would have remembered him, he had quite a prominent nose.”  Shirley offered.

“Well, We will have to find out why this man had Darren’s wallet on him.  Seems he was a prospector, we notified his next of kin, but could only find his Great grandfather, his mother, wife and children seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth.”  “O’Toole commented.  “Maybe Darren did business with him, his home was literally filled with dinosaur bones…..”

“Dinosaur bones?”  That’s what Darren did, he went all over buying old bones from the Pleistocene era for his clientele…” Shirley mused.

“Well if you could remember anything, anything at all, please call me,” O’Toole handed his card to Shirley.

“You betcha’ I’d like to know myself.”  Shirley confided.

“Have a good day, bye now.”  And O’Toole and his partner left Shirley’s house.

Shirley, as soon as the men drove off, zoomed up the steps to her bedroom.  Where the hell did she leave that box?  She ripped the room apart, in search of the damn thing, then she spied it on her dresser.

Shirley held the box in her hands.  It was addressed to her from a Mr. Robert Ghostwolf! What the hell was going on?  Shirley was half afraid to open the box.  What if he had seen something?  Well it didn’t matter because he was dead, she rationalized….

Shirley Cohen sat on her bed and opened the brown papered box.  She had a hard time, as it was glued and stapled shut.  And then a wax seal??  Shirley finally got the box open,  inside was a plain looking piece of quartz, it was white with a thin grey line running through it.  There was a small note attached. 

Please keep this in a very safe place.  You must take it out and feed it at least once a month, failure to do so, will put you in imminent danger.  Shirley laughed, this had to be some sick prank.  The quartz seemed to glow, the more Shirley laughed, startled she picked up the quartz, it was burning hot to the touch and burned her finger.  Shirley ran to the sink to run cold water on the burn.  She eyed the quartz suspiciously.  She went over and picked up the note to reread it.

As the owner, you must  keep it wrapped in a whole deerskin, inside an earthen jar hidden away in a secret cave in the mountains.

Every seven days you must feed it with small fresh game, something you have trapped yourself, rubbing the blood all over the crystal as soon as the animal has been killed.

Twice a year it must have the blood of a deer or other large animal.

Should you  forget to feed it at the proper time it would come out of its cave in a shape of fire and fly through the air to slake its thirst with the  your lifeblood, so don’t forget to feed it.

you may save yourself from danger  by telling it, when you put  it away, that you will not need it again for a long time. It will then go quietly to sleep and feel no hunger until it is again brought forth to be consulted. Then it must be fed again with blood before it is used.

Shirley didn’t know what to think, a giant square piece of quartz to be fed blood.   She needed to find someone to find out what this was really all about.  And who was Robert Ghostwolf, and why would he send this thing to her?    
        
       
       

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