Page 14 of The Cursed Chalice
“I restore art at the Balmont Museum. Well, I used to. After this…”
I pass between two towering stacks of books. What catches my eye is a rare book. I touch the spine ofMyths of Men and Gods.
“Gods interest you?” I hear Moira’s voice, but I can’t see her.
“Everything interests me. I love your store,” I reply, passing my hands over an ornate wood frame. I notice the use of pastels in the painting of some ballerinas in rehearsals. This is an Edgar Degas painting! This is worth millions.
“May I sit on this chair?” I ask, pointing toward a wooden folding chair. Moira’s head peeks out from behind a glass case.
“Yes, on that one. Not the one behind you.”
I unfold the chair and sit on it. I reach for the bottom of my dress and unbuckle my shoes and slip them off. I rest them to the side.
My foot kicks a box at the side, and I hear a jingle. I look down, and there is a gold chalice lying on bronze plates and spoons. I reach down and hold the stem of the chalice. It’s old, tarnished, and in need of some TLC.
My fingers graze over the vines on the chalice and the woman sitting on them. It feels hot. I want to put it down, but I can’t.
The rim has a braided rope around its edge. As I run my fingers down the stem, I raise the chalice above my head and see a symbol of two spears, a Roman soldier helmet, and a shield.
So, it’s Roman? But the way the cup is designed looks older.
“Hmm.”
Moira picks up the box that held the chalice and walks away with it.
“Oh snap, sorry. This was in the box.”
“No, keep it.”
Keep it? “It’s gold. This has value I can’t?—”
“No, it’s yours. But know this: If you drink from it, its fate is bound to you…forever.”
I look down at the chalice now resting on my lap. “Oh, no; that’s not scary at all.”
Moira comes back and stands in front of me. “You can leave now; the coast is clear.”
I get up and walk to the door. I turn and smile. “Thank you for protecting me.”
“Remember what I said about the cup.”
The door opens, and I step out into the night on a street in the city of Bakersfield. A street that is nowhere near thecountryside. What the hell? I hold my chest, looking back to the store…and it’s gone. There is an empty store with a sign that says, “Jimmy’s Ice Cream Coming Soon.”
The red door, the stained glass window…all gone.
“Okay, don’t panic,” I say.Breathe…It’s okay. Maybe it’s a trauma response, or maybe I was dreaming. But the chalice in my hands tells me that this was no dream.
“My goodness, that’s a pretty dress,” a lady says as she walks past with a small terrier in her arms.
Right, I need to change. Now.
“Excuse me.” I run after the lady.
She stops and smiles; her puppy bucks, trying to get out of her arms.
“Is there a thrift store anywhere in this area?”
“Um, no. But Keke’s Dress Shop would love your dress. She will trade you something else for it,” the lady replies.
