The Pendant
Captain Patrick Johnson stared out the window at
the dark, hungry waves tossing the boat. The lamp swung recklessly
above his head. He reached up, steadied the lamp, and continued reading
the will and testament. After Mr. Martin Barios' death, the will
had been read, but no mention of his riches was found.
The glass table clattered against the brass
frame. A great jolt knocked the oil lamp to the floor under the table.
Slowly the fire spread and grew. Captain Johnson ran to the sink
and got a jug of water to dowse the fire. He hurried back to the
table and froze. The jug fell from his hands and shattered over the
floor. The light under the glass had thinned the will. Faintly,
in Barios' handwriting, it read "Destroy the Pendant".
By now, the water from the jug had seeped into
the rug and began to fade the flame. Johnson grabbed a pen and quickly
jotted down the message. Barios' pendant was a small crystal ball with
a cast iron frame. Like a locket, it opened to reveal the back wall
of the pendant. The back wall was covered with a slate of tiny prisms
that caused rainbows to appear when opened.
When he died, Barios' pendant was found sealed
shut with a welding iron. What was once a beautiful array of colorful light
was now a crystal ball with a neatly welded side. Even more mystery
lay in Barios' death. After he was proclaimed dead, his heart still
beat, blood still flowed, his body was alive. He, however, was gone,
His thoughts, soul, and being were gone. Barios' body was buried,
alive, but he was not.
Johnson remembered that policemen had stated
that Barrios was found clutching the pendant near an open window.
Despite the arm's possession, police found no evidence to say that he was
meaning to throw it out, 15 stories above jagged rocks in his beach side
apartment. But where was it now?
Johnson took a kettle off the stove, and poured
coffee into his mug. He sat, sipping and staring out at the restless
sea. Suddenly, Johnson felt a shiver up his spine. Someone
was in the room. He whirled around and saw nobody, but his cabin door swinging
open and a young maid standing politely in the doorway.
"Letter for you guv'nah'" she said in her Cockney
accent.
"Thank you, dear," he replied, relieved
that she had no intention of harming him. The maid left him alone
in his quarters.
Johnson sliced the envelope with a silver
letter opener and poured its contents onto the table. This is what
it said:
Dear Sir:
I would be like to
inform you that Barios' apartment was robbed last night. We were
in pursuit of the thief until we reached Seashore Cliff. We ordered
him to stop, but he drove the car right over the edge. His body was
found washed upon the shore with a few stolen items. Lost items include:
Barios' wallet, keys, wedding ring, pendant and wristwatch. We searched
the coast but found no sign of any of these items. We will keep you
informed with any other clues that come up about your brother, Martin Barios'
death.
Sincerely,
David Parker
Police Chief
Johnson
read the letter over again, to be sure that he did not miss a thing.
He folded it up and placed it back in the envelope. The pendant was
gone. It was destroyed like Martin had asked in the will. Then
someone must have seen the message as well. The thief must have seen
the will and sacrificed his life to destroy the pendant. The other
items were to cover it up. But why? What had the thief known
about the pendant that told him to die for his cause?
Suddenly Johnson grabbed the letter and searched
the content frantically. Alas, there was no mention of the thief's
identity. Slowly, he dragged a map towards him and studied it. Seashore
Cliff was only around Cape Corning, about 20 meters from the ship's course.
Johnson rose from his chair and walked sternly
out of the room towards the bridge. A bolt of lightning flashed through
the sky as he climbed the swaying staircase towards the lookout.
"You there," he called to a sailor. "Turn her
around port 45 degrees and head for Seashore Cliff."
"Aye captain," he answered and spun the wheel
causing the great ship to slowly change directions.
Johnson stood next to the sailor in the lookout,
peering through the rain covered glass at the heaving waves. Cape
Corning was clear in front of them, setting out into the sea like an arm
reaching for some distant shore. The ship rounded the bend and cowered
under the great cliffs in front of it. The anchor was lowered to
keep the boat from being smashed into the rocks. Johnson took a dinghy
to shore and joined a group of police officers gazing at the sea.
"Johnson," Officer David Parker said, solemnly,
shaking his hand. All along the shore, men searched for lost items.
Johnson debated whether to tell Parker about the will or not. He
decided to keep quiet for now, "The thief" Johnson started, "Who
was he?"
"Reverend Richard James," Parker answered.
"He married Martin and his wife."
Johnson produced a piece of paper and jotted
the name down so he would not forget.
"Do they have any other connection?" questioned
Johnson.
"The pendant, I believe," he replied, "was
passed down to Barios on his wedding day. An heirloom from friend
to friend. It came with this note," Parker said, quietly taking a
crumpled piece of paper and handing it to the captain. It read:
Martin,
Keep this for me,
let no one touch it,
Beware the darkness
-Richard
Johnson folded the paper and handed it
back to Parker.
"You keep it," Parker replied. Johnson
placed it in his breast pocket.
"Captain," called a sailor from Johnson's
ship. "The tide is changing. We'll be stranded if we don't leave
soon - "
"I must be off," Johnson said, turning to Parker.
"God speed," he replied as Johnson left for
his ship.
The bewildered captain watched the sailors
pull the anchor aboard. Slowly, the great ship lurched forward out
of the cove. Johnson sighed and returned to his cabin. Fierce
rain pounded against the window pane. He was captivated by the rhythmic
rocking of the ship. Suddenly a great bold of lightning broke the
almost tranquil silence. Something caught Johnson's eye - a metal
object, tossed by the waves glinted in the streak of light.
Mesmerized by the brightness of the object
Johnson left his quarters and stood by the railing staring at the thing,
tossing in the waves. It was so close, he could touch it. Suddenly,
as though a force drew him in, his hand shot forward and grabbed the object.
Rain trickled down Johnson's face. He was frozen with terror.
It was the pendant!
A shiver ran down his spine. A cold dark
fog came in from the waves and
embraced his body. It swirled around him, immersing him in the
evil mist. He tried to call out, but he was suffocated by the dense vapor.
The boat gave a sudden jolt and knocked the pendant from his hands.
The fog crept over to where it lay and seemed to be absorbed into it.
There was nothing left but the pendant quivering on the deck.
Despite the various warnings, Johnson had to
know where the fog had gone. His hand shook as he reached for his knife.
Steadying it, he carefully began to cut away the welded iron. The
deeper he cut, the colder the room became, as if, once again, he was being
swallowed by the fog.
Shavings of iron fell to the floor. Only
a thin layer of metal remained. The wind blew through the open window.
"Open it," whispered the wind, "open it." Johnson
froze. The unknown force was beyond him. The pendant fell from
his hand and broke open on the floor.
Johnson found himself on a soft carpet at the
foot of a small platform. On the platform was a throne, on the throne
was a woman.
"Welcome to Tirana, Patrick," the woman
said grandly.
"Who are you?" Johnson stammered.
There was sweet laughter.
"Of course," she cried, "I forgot.
I am Queen Uria of Tirana, or what's left of it, that is. You see,
when my home planet was destroyed, I sought out a new home. Finding
this lovely pendant I moved right in. Of course I had to do something
about those prisms, I can't stand the light and shininess of them all.
So I simply summoned my dark fog to block them out and now everything is
lovely again."
"The Darkness" he whispered, remembering the
note given to Barios from the reverend. Suddenly there was a gasp
from Uria.
"Oh Dear," she said solemnly " I forgot again.
"You don't know why your here, do you?"
He did not answer.
"You see, all of my servants were destroyed
with the old Tirana, and I was not about to do their work.
When I moved to the pendant, I found that doing the chores was easier than
I thought."
She paused and ran her delicate fingers through
her long black hair. Her pale skin made her look like a porcelain
doll, one that would shatter if knocked over. She reached out and
took a silver goblet in her hands. She peered in and smiled.
"My servants" she said suddenly -- as if he
had broken a trance "would leave Tirana in search of souls. Souls
are my food, my source of energy. Look into my goblet," she said
holding it out to him. He gasped.
White, translucent bodies floated lifeless
in the cup. Slowly, she lifted the cup to her lips, "Souls
feel healthy in the bright sun. I don't. They build my immunity
to small doses of light."
Johnson sat petrified as she sipped from the
cup.
"Your brother knew about me. He knew
that whenever the pendant was opened, I would take another victim.
He tried to seal me in," she said her voice growing more harsh at every
syllable. "I got him though. Do you wish to see him?"
she asked, her voice back to it's sweet kindness.
"Yes," Johnson said rather sternly. She
clapped her hands and Johnson was whisked off by the fog.
He found himself in a dimly light room completely
concealed. On the floor lay a cot. On the cot was Martin.
"Patrick, he whispered "We mustn't talk, I
am to weak, just this: Uria's one flaw is in the prism. She
cannot survive in bright lights. When the sun is just high enough,
hold the prism so the light hits her intensely."
He slowly reached into his pocket and brought
out a small prism.
"Take it," then he was asleep.
Johnson lay awake all night. Slowly,
the new morning sun began to rise in the east. Dew drops settled
on the young buds in the garden outside his window.
"She gave me rather nice chambers for a prisoner."
he thought.
The sun gleamed the window and fell across
the room. An array of color projected through his pocket and danced
on the wall. The prism!
Johnson had forgotten plan that Martin had
arranged. With new-found determination, he rose from his bed. Uria
would send for him shortly. She wanted him to witness the death of
his brothers soul. He heard a faint clap come from Uria's thrown
room. It was time.
Johnson stood before her, tense, waiting. The sun was near
position. Martin stood beside her, passing nervous glances to his brother.
Uria sat on her thrown, caressing her silver goblet. She began to
fix her eyes on Martin. Her icy eyes swirled slightly. A translucent,
white mist left Martin's body and crept to her eyes. He grew pale
an fell to his knees. He was dying. Johnson had no time to
wait for the sun, it was now or never.
He grabbed the prism and held it high above his head. There was
a brilliant flash of light.
Captain Patrick Johnson stared out the
window at the dark, hungry waves tossing the boat, the lamp swung
recklessly above his head. He reached up and steadied the lamp,
and continued reading the will and testament. It disappeared in a
gust of wind.
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