The Crystal Clipper

by B. Roman

  “He will come, Ishtar,” Dorinda promises, “to save a life that means more to him than his own.”

  Four

  Port Avalon, first day of Summer

  David pulls on a thin rope, hoists a small wire basket out of the water and climbs down the ladder of the pier. He crouches down on the beach, removes the twelve crystals from the basket one by one, then places them carefully on the wet, hard sand. David looks heavenward for a moment. The sun is high and hot, its glare pure white, a symbol of the cosmic light energy. The sky is a startling blue and, under the sun's dazzling rays, the water below is a smooth mirror, a deep green sea of glass that extends unto infinity. David turns his attention back to the crystals and begins to arrange them in a circle.

  Sally maneuvers her wheelchair along the pier and down a specially built ramp that allows her to come down to the beach next to him.

  David looks up to see her. “Hi, Sally. I didn't know you were there.”

  “What are you doing with your crystals?”

  “I just gave them a good overnight cleansing and I want them to sit out in the sun awhile.”

  Sally shares David's fascination with the “magic rocks,” more out of adoration for her older brother than an affinity for the crystals themselves. When otosclerosis made him deaf at age seven, he withstood the pain, the surgeries and the disappointment with such courage that even five-year-old Sally was deeply moved. He never told the creepy kids at school how well he could read the cruel remarks on their lips. He worked diligently to keep up his normal speech, but also learned to sign expertly, even teaching Sally so they could tell private little jokes to each other. At least he could feel the pulse of music and the powerful rhythm of the pounding surf with his hearing aid. And maybe, Sally had insisted to her parents, David really could hear things that hearing people could not.

  “Why are you doing that?”

  “I've been working with them quite a lot lately and they need to be reenergized,” David explains. “If we could get a good electrical storm, they'd really be good and strong again, and I could study their individual molecular structure and vibrational patterns better.”

  “Tell me about them again, David, where they came from and what their powers are.”

  “Okay.” David knows Sally prefers the mystical legends to all that science stuff about atoms, neutrons, and protons. So he plays these sessions with his sister up to the hilt by giving her the most imaginative descriptions he can conjure up. He sits down comfortably on the sand, then holds up a deep violet-colored quartz crystal.

  “This one is an amethyst,” David begins. “It was used in ancient cultures as an amulet to prevent drunkenness. The people got stoned instead.”

  Sally's corn silk blonde ponytail bobs perkily atop her head when she throws it back and laughs.

  “Actually” - David is serious now - “it's a wonderful meditation stone that brings responses from your spiritual guides when you are troubled about something in your life.” David puts the amethyst down and selects another stone, a deep blue one.

  “The Lapis Lazuli was a favorite of the ancient Egyptians,” he lectures, sounding like an archeological guide. “The gold speckles on it aren't really gold, but pyrite – fools gold. The Egyptians used it to call upon the great wisdom of their ancestors when making major decisions about their families, like should they let their mother-in-law live with them, or drown old 'Mummy' in the Nile.”

  Sally laughs even harder now, and claps her hands.

  David picks up a large opaque stone, the vibrant color of emerald green meadows. “The malachite is a great one for men. It can make a mighty warrior out of a timid mouse, or a Prince Charming out of a complete nerd.”

  “Like you!” Sally teases him.

  David reaches up and yanks on her ponytail affectionately.

  “Show me the rose crystal, David. The pretty pink one. It's my favorite.”

  “It's beautiful, isn't it?” David holds a deep rose-colored crystal. “It works on the frequency of faith and unconditional love.” He signs the word love, and gives the crystal to Sally to hold. “I'm going to have this set in a pendant for you to wear next to your heart. That's where it really belongs.”

  Sally's eyes mist over and she, too, signs as she whispers, “Oh, David, I love you, too.” But when she sees the Singer, she squeals with delight. “David! Let me see that one.”

  David holds up the Singer so she can see it from every angle. “Isn't it excellent?”

  Sally is almost breathless. “It looks just like a sailing ship! I've never seen anything like it!”

  “There isn't another like it in the whole world,” David boasts. “It's called a Singer because its vibrations sing all the mysteries of the universe. At least that's what Aunt Dorothy said. I call it my Crystal Clipper,” he says and signs, “a ship to take me to far off, magical places – with the help of my imagination, of course.”

  “Oh, David, wouldn't it be wonderful if you could sail off to a magical place where all your dreams could come true?”

  “And if I did, I'd take you with me, Sally, to a place where you would walk and dance and be happy again.” He spins her wheelchair a few turns.

  “And where you could hear again,” Sally adds, as though the dream just might be possible. “So, if we're going to sail off on a Crystal Clipper, hadn't you better get your magic rocks all re-energized? It looks like it's going to rain any minute.”

  David looks up, surprised to see that dark clouds are beginning to appear. “Aye, Captain. You're right. A good electrical storm will do the trick all right. This might be a good time to try that new energy formation I just read about.” He picks up a small twig and draws a pyramid shape in the sand. Then he draws an inverted pyramid over the other pattern, creating a six-pointed Star of David.

  Sally crinkles her nose. “What's an energy formation?”

  “They're really called gridwork patterns. I don't know much about them yet, but this double pyramid is supposed to be very powerful, for something. I'll have to read up on it more.”

  “David, do you think you should experiment with it yet? Something awful could happen.”

  But David is oblivious to her concern. Already he is placing a crystal strategically on each point of the star, with the Singer at the apex of the pyramid. Just as he completes the grid pattern, a crackling bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, skitters along the surface of the water, and strikes the Singer full on. Acting as a conduit of energy, the Singer transmits the lightning to every crystal in the grid, emblazoning the sand in a kaleidoscopic fury. The force throws David over on his back and knocks him out cold.

  Five

  When David regains consciousness, the storm has passed and a hazy mist of filtered sunlight spreads out over the coastline. He shakes his head to revive himself, then lets out a low whistle, amazed at the shock he just experienced. The crystals sparkle vibrantly in the sand, humming audibly with electro-magnetic energy. David holds his hand just inches above them to feel their hot pulse. He is dumbfounded, but ecstatic.

  “Holy cow! Sally, take a look at this! Sally…” David turns to look at her but she is not there. All that remains is her empty wheel chair. David is apprehensive, then frantic as he calls for her.

  “Sally! Sally, where are you! Are you all right?”

  David stands there helplessly, looking up to the pier and back down again, turning around in the sand, looking in the other direction. He can't believe she has disappeared. But how? Quickly, he retrieves his crystals and wraps them in their silk pouch, which he fastens to his belt. He races up the ramp of the pier calling his sister's name. He runs to the far end of the pier where a few small boats are moored, but sees no signs of Sally or anyone else.

  Then, coming from out of nowhere, a startling ball of light dances in mid-air, stopping David in his tracks. A sound emanates from the light, the most beautiful sound – the first pure sound - he has heard in years. Whose sweet voice is that singing? David believes it must
be an angel, for who (or what) else would sing of cathedrals of light and stairways to heaven in a voice so sublime it defies description. He walks apprehensively toward it, still softly calling his sister's name. David's heart nearly pounds out of his chest when an apparition appears, a holographic image of a mysterious Gypsy woman peering into a crystal ball.

  “Come closer, David,” the Gypsy invites him. Hesitant, David walks closer to the image, amazed that he can hear her voice. It has a reverberant quality, but he can make out her words distinctly. He touches his ear to check his hearing aid. It's still there.

  “Your Sally is here, in my crystal ball, but far away in a strange and dangerous place. You will find her when you have journeyed from the darkness to the light. But you must take the first step, unafraid.”

  David peers into the gypsy's clear globe but sees nothing. As suddenly as it appeared, the hologram dissolves, and the mist separates like a curtain drawn open to reveal a breathtaking wonder. “Holy cow!” he cries, then gives out that same low whistle of amazement.

  A magnificent, gleaming white sailing ship, sleek as satin, is anchored by the wharf. Her awesome masts jut proudly into the air, with a cumulous burst of sail filling the skyline. The gangplank is down, inviting David aboard. He strides swiftly up to her main deck and takes in the unbelievable beauty of her. From stem to stern, she is pure white, from the polished wood of her decks to the tautly woven silk of her sails. Eagerly, David runs up and down the main deck looking for someone on board.

  “Hello! Is anyone here? Hello!”

  The ship lurches forward suddenly. The gangplank mysteriously rises and secures itself to the rails, leaving David with no way off. The sails puff up and pick up the strong westerly wind, and the clipper casts off from the dock to the open seas.

  “Wait! Where are we going? What's happening?”

  But no one answers. David is all alone on this mystical clipper ship, now sailing under its own power, with no captain or crew, destination unknown. And sail she does, swift and smooth. From the rail of her goblet-shaped stern, David watches the coastline of his hometown become a distant image.

  In a surprising turn, David's fear subsides. He is now curiously amenable to this adventure, and decides to inspect the ship. Slowly, he makes his way, touching every piece of equipment, running his hands along the rails and rigs of the clipper's expertly constructed body.

  “That's strange,” he remarks, touching the mizzenmast. “It's cold, like marble or stone, not wood.”

  In fact, all three of the ship's huge masts are smooth and translucent. Shiny gold rings woven with links as supple as a necklace chain encircle the masts at their bases, with the mizzenmast wearing several rings from bottom to top.

  “Gold rings. What could they be for?”

  David makes his way down the ladder of the main deck to the Captain's quarters and looks for some signs of life. There is a bunk and a desk, but the cabin is devoid of

  any personal items except for a journal that lies closed on top of the desk. David picks up the leather-bound, hand-tooled book and reads the cover inscription aloud.

  “Captain's Log - The Great Ship Moon Singer.”

  He opens the cover and reads the handwritten entry:

  “Spanning the water at 200 feet from stem to stern, she boasts 20,000 square feet of sails, woven from pure silk skein. Her mizzenmast towers 150 feet high, sculpted from pure quartz crystal. The rings of gold are power generators, allowing her to travel faster than the speed of light. Christened and set to sea on this 21st day of June…why, that's today!…

  Log recorded by Captain David Nickerson…”

  Astonished, David drops the book as though it is possessed, and jumps back away. But once again curiosity overcomes his fear. He retrieves the book, then frantically turns the pages only to find them completely blank. He sinks into the captain's chair, shaken by this discovery. It was all too much for him to fathom.

  “This has got to be a dream. This can't be real. I've been working with those damn crystals so much they've invaded my sleep.” He reads his name again.

  “Captain David Nickerson.” He laughs at the incredibility of it. “Well, Sally, you wanted me to sail on a crystal clipper, and you got your wish. The Moon Singer no less.”

  David wanders back up to the main deck and stands at the helm, as though he truly is the captain of his own ship. The dazzling brightness of the sun forms a cathedral of light through billowy clouds, and the Moon Singer shimmers like a diamond atop the water. Together they sail across the magnificent blue-green seascape, covering mile after endless mile of sparkling ocean. There was nothing for David to do but to go along, to let the “dream” play out to its conclusion. Then, perhaps, it would all make sense.

  Six

  The clipper's towering rigging, tuned as tightly as a violin, thrums a monotonous song as it sways in the brisk wind. A sudden lurch of the ship startles David awake and he almost falls off the bench he is sleeping on. Another lurch and David is on his feet, trying to balance himself as the ship sways with the increasing speed and power of the wind.

  A violent thunderstorm rolls in and the sky becomes black and foreboding. Building up into a hill of water, the sea lifts the Moon Singer up by the stern and sends her crashing down hard. Giant waves topple forward, with wind batting off their crests, and sweep across the main deck in a flooding carpet of water. David is knocked off his feet and sent sliding across the width of the deck. Desperate, he grabs onto anything he can find to keep from being washed overboard. On his hands and knees, on his belly, anyway he can, David makes his way to the helm, grabs onto a pile of rope and ties himself down.

  The gale force winds howl like a banshee warning that death is imminent, and David shudders inside and out with terror. The clipper dips her yardarms deep into the water, then shoots them high above the surface as she sways and rolls to the cross seas. Time after time, the phosphorescent surf explodes over David's head and he gasps desperately for air, coughing water up from his lungs.

  As a final assault, a mountain of water moves under the clipper, lifting her higher and higher to its peak. But there she sits, in suspended animation, the wind a haunting siren's song, when once again the hologram appears.

  “You are at the crossroads, and the choice is yours, David Nickerson. Do you step backward in fear, or forward in courage? Either way, the fate of your Sally is in your hands.”

  “Who are you!” David screams at her. “Where are you taking me? I don't understand any of this.”

  “There is no time to question,” the Gypsy urges him. “Make your choice before the spell is broken and Sally is lost forever.”

  David is more angry than frightened. His dream voyage has become a nightmare, and the Gypsy is playing games with Sally's life. He has no choice but to play along if he is ever to see her again.

  “All right! All right! Take me to Sally, damn you!” With David's decision as its driving force, the Moon Singer picks up incredible speed, pinning David harder against the helm. Her motion is smooth and swift as she moves on the peak of a huge wave, soaring higher and higher, ascending from the surface of the water and taking astral flight. Through galaxies and billions of stars she travels, faster than the speed of light. Then, breaking the barriers of time and space, riding a cosmic river of diamonds and pearls, the clipper floats free and gentle toward the moon.

  Oblivious to his fear, David loses himself in the splendor of the moment. Such indescribable, unearthly beauty, such inexplicable joy, such infinite peace and serenity.

  Feeling that the storm has passed, David unties himself and finds his sea legs. He makes his way to the clipper's stern, and steadies himself at the rail. Oddly, trailing behind the ship is not an ocean of calm water, but a sea of glass, slick as a glacier. Through this looking glass of illusion, David watches the panoramic landscape of his home, his town, the earth, his past – as they fade into the distance, and then away completely.

  * * *

  The moon is high an
d silvery, creating a silhouette of the Island that lies in the distance, as the Moon Singer drifts toward land. She comes to a halt a few hundred yards from the shore and, under her own power, she drops anchor. A small dinghy is lowered with David inside, and when it hits the water David rows to shore. He jumps from the dinghy into the shallow water, then pulls the boat onto the beach, mooring it in the sand. Just then a huge cloud moves across the moon, eclipsing it completely, leaving David in total darkness.

  “Oh, great. I can't see a thing now. Where's a flashlight when you need one?”

  David's offhandedness does nothing to relieve the squeezing in his gut. Then, in an unexpected flash of light, the Gypsy's image reappears. Startled, David falls backward onto the sand with a thud.

  “Before you can walk easily in the light, you must become accustomed to no light at all,” the Gypsy says sprightly.

  “I'm kind of getting that impression. But do you have to speak in cryptic messages? It would be really helpful if you just told me what was going on in plain English.” He stands up and brushes the sand from his clothes.

  “The message changes for each who hears. Just as the road bends differently for each who ventures forth.”

  “Thanks. That makes a lot more sense,” David sneers. “Okay, for Sally's sake I'll play along with your little game. Just tell me which way to go here…”

  “It's not where you go that matters. It's where you are,” the Gypsy says liltingly, obviously taking pleasure in her own riddles. Then, she begins to fade away.

  “Hey! Wait! Wherever I am, how come I can hear you?” David moves toward the fading image, but the hologram disappears, and David is in complete darkness once again.

  “It's not where you go, it's where you are,” he mumbles to himself. “I wish I knew where I are.”

  David walks away from the beach and into the density of the Island. Night creatures make eerie sounds. Twigs crackle under his feet. Something swats him in the face. “Ouch!”