A Touch of the Unknown (Short Stories)

Crystal & Mixy

Crystal's mother always told her that she would write stories for a living.

"You have the mind for it. I think you got that from your father."

This made very little sense to Crystal. To begin with, books didn't exist to her as products of someone's imagination. Their origins, much like the food in the refrigerator or the furniture around the house, were never put to question. They simply existed as they were. When she thought of books, she didn't think of the many hours of hard work the author might have put into them, but instead only the smell of the pages, the sight of the hand-drawn illustrations and the sound of her mother's voice when she read to her at night. The concept of imagination itself still only existed to her in some half-explained state. This made it all the more confusing when Crystal's mother used the word to explain away her strange discoveries.

Until recently, these discoveries had only ever been a point of bemused interest to her mother. Most recently, it was the family of elves that she'd found living in the corner of the hallway closet. Her mother didn't so much as open the closet door to check. The day before, it was the furry blue monster she'd found hiding in a shoe under her bed. Her mother didn't look then either. This was well enough to Crystal, knowing full well that she was lucky to have even survived the encounter. There were times when she chose not to tell her mother about these things at all, instead hoping that they would disappear on their own if they weren't acknowledged.

Over the few weeks prior, the strange encounters had increased in frequency. Every day, almost like clockwork, Crystal ran to her mother in a panic over some strange new thing she'd found in the house. This was when her mother's bemused interest began to turn to concern.

Before, most of Crystal's encounters with these things were fairly brief. Only rarely would the strange creatures return more than once. But the momentary nature of these encounters seemed to change over time as well, as they began to take up more permanent residence in the various corners of the house.

"Mama, why don't you want to see?" Crystal asked one day after failing to forcefully drag her by the hand.

"Crystal..." her mother began sharply, though quickly softening her voice. "There's nothing there, honey. Your imagination is just running wild again. If I got up to check, it would be gone by the time I looked anyway, just like the last time."

And indeed, the creatures seemed to fear her mother more than anything. Knowing this, Crystal always tried to stay within sight of her.

Perhaps the strangest of all of these encounters occurred one night after a heavy rain. Crystal was standing by her bedroom window looking through the glass at the rain-soaked yard. When the rain subsided, a thick fog rolled through the yard. To Crystal's horror, the fog parted to reveal a figure standing in the darkness. It was slimy black with tiny yellow slits for eyes. No mouth or nose or ears, only the eyes staring out at her from the fog. When it began walking toward the window, Crystal ran to her bed and pulled the covers over her head. She let a long time pass before peeking out to see if it was still there. It stood at the window, its claws lightly tapping at the glass as it stared in at her.

The very next night, it returned and once more tapped at her window as it watched her. The fact that it returned at all was unusual, but worse still, Crystal feared that if it returned again it might eventually find some way into her bedroom.

Crystal hesitated to tell her mother about this encounter as well, but one night the fear grew too great to bear in silence. When she told her mother about the creature, she was met with the same bemused fixation on her imagination.

Her mother's refusal to believe in these things pained Crystal, but one night the reason for this was made clear.

"Why do some people believe in heaven but some don't?" Crystal asked.