Rain [Short Stories]

Crystalized Coral Pieces

Viltu hummed softly. The empty kitchen listened to him and the clink of porcelain dishes against crystal hands. The coarse, shining metal of the scrubby scraped white scratches into his bubblegum pink hands, wet with warm water and soap. The dishes were passed through the Crystal Wraith's hands to the side of the sink where they could air dry. His huge, yet somehow lanky build filled up most of the space in front of the sink, the crystals on his arms and legs mimicked sinewy muscles, rippling when he picked things up.

It was fun to watch. The way his crystals shifted and changed colours. He never wore clothes much as they always ripped or caught on the sharp edges of the faceted crystals he was made up of. There wasn't anything to see anyway, it was all covered up with pretty pink chunks of ore. They had a tendency to change colour with his emotion. It was a dead giveaway and though he tried to deny the colour change, the futile promises were never listened too. He'd turn cornflower blue when upset, dandelion yellow if embarrassed or frightened, and a terrifying blood red when angry. No one had given the soft being any reason to be that particularly angry, thankfully.

For the most part, he remained his usual soft, bubblegum pink. He nudged his glasses farther onto his face, tsking as they nearly fell off into the dirty water churning in the sink.

He swore he'd have them glued to his face if they kept trying to fall off all the time. It'd be an interesting experiment. His glasses acted like his eyes; without them, he was blind as a bat if not more so. He shifted his weight to one leg, shoving them farther up the bridge of his crooked nose, water droplets smudging over the lens and dripping down into fake tears.

He wondered when Mollis would be home from shopping. Looking at the clock, it'd only been twenty minutes but when burdened with the weight of doing dishes, it felt like hours had gone by.

He sighed softly as he scanned the pile of dishes that hadn't yet been washed. The pile had accumulated over a few days of no one doing dishes. They used so many lately since his wife, Mollis, a beautiful coral woman, was pregnant.

He resumed his humming, turning his attention back to the dirty dishes.

"Lost in skies of powdered gold, caught in skies of silver ropes. Showered by the empty hopes. As I tumble down, fallin' fast to the ground, "

He had the house entirely to himself, and no, he didn't usually sing around his loving wife or even people in general. So, this left him the perfect opportunity to practice. Crystal Wraiths weren't known for their voices; their spectacular memories and intelligence hogged the limelight. However, the gentle clink of porcelain accompanied his twinkling voice and the sound of running water drowned and ran his words together.

"Oh, I know I'll wither. So peel away the bark, 'cause nothing, grows when it is dark,"

He winced as his voice broke. Even with no one in the house, he still felt like he was being watched. Though this was no earthly thing that watched him. Unbeknownst to him, imaginary claws coated in blood and dirt scratched down his back and turned his crystals grey. They ripped chunks of him off and devoured the crumbling, grey pieces. But he didn't see them, he didn't feel them. He hadn't seen them for a very long time indeed.

"In spite of all my fear, I can see it all so clear. I see it all so clear,"

His stutter vanished. Though this was partially due to Mollis' tiny microphone that'd been clipped permanently to the stark ridge of Viltu's collarbone. It allowed him to speak clearly, quietly enough so that he didn't stutter and repeat his sentences in an attempt to make himself heard. He had the stutter ever since he was just a little thing, but doctors and medics were besides themselves as to why. He was a bright, eager thing presenting no reason for his stutter. His parents even reached out to doctors in BėllėTanė, but still none could give any specific reason other than a simple speech impediment. It invoked the wrath of his parents, and was quite bothersome to him when trying to articulate his feelings which was why he stopped doing it altogether.