The Rarest Gem

Chapter One

TRISTAN

Breathe slowly and calm your mind.

You've got this.

I clench tightly onto my amethyst and try to envision my question as I sit in front of my altar.

Breathe.

Show me what I need to see spirit.

I allow for communication through my third eye.

I try to envision my place of power, my place of peace, the spot in nature that lives so vividly in my mind.

I relax into my vision.

The grass is a vibrant green, emanating the smell of a freshly cut lawn in the summer.

The colors of the flowers are so dazzling they put my mind at ease.

The crimson red of the rose bushes offers me comfort as I channel my power.

My body relaxes further, taking in the light scent of patchouli from the incense now gently wafting throughout my room.

Ezra, my spirit animal, the loyal hyena who helps me navigate through the hard times, is sitting next to me, empowering me to take this journey.

Show me what I need to see, Spirit.

Show me...

***Bang Bang Bang ***

"One second..."

"No, open the damn door now, Tristan. I can smell that freaking devil shit I told you not to be burning in my house!"

Crap, I thought she worked late tonight.

I quickly snap out of my meditation, place my amethyst crystal on my altar, and attempt to out my incense and candles as quickly as I can before my mother enters my room.

I'm hoping that the absence of evidence of me using some of my spiritual tools will deter her from going into an all-out rage.

***Bang Bang Bang***

"I said open the God Damn Door!"

"Sorry, coming, Mom."

I make my way to the door and attempt to open it to a slight crack as I anxiously approach my mother, nerves rushing as my body grows tense because I can never tell just how irrationally she might act.

My attempt is quickly averted, and she lunges her hand at the wooden separation between us, flinging my door open and stumbling inside, obviously infuriated.

"W-what the hell is this, Tristan?" she asks, stumbling on her words.

She points to my small glass altar, which is adorned with stones, books, and spiritual items I've collected over the years.

I should have just kept it all hidden. I knew she'd react this way.

I feel my anxiety building.

I want to answer confidently and say it's my belief system. It's what gets me through my days, but my reply is nothing of the sort.

"I-it's my meditation area. I just need to clear my mind sometimes times, so I..."

She cuts me off, and I see her grow red—no, red is an understatement. The color she is turning is indescribable. I don't think this shade even exists yet.

Please Spirit, if you're there...

Before I can even finish my thought, my mother becomes angrily animated as she stomps toward my sacred space.