Fire.
Smoke.
Destruction.
So much destruction.
The gutted ruin of Mad Molly’s Antiquities and Oddities looked much like the others she’d passed. A dark yawning cave framed by scorched brick walls. Despite the damage, it gave off an aura of safety. She stepped over a burned body—so commonplace it didn’t register—and stood on the threshold.
She assessed the damage. The roof hadn’t collapsed in the fire or from the battles constantly ranging from one part of the city to another. She listened. Nothing but the faint sound of explosions far off and a random scream closer by. The terror in the scream gave her the final push to get off the street and go inside.
The shattered interior smelled like ash. Half-burned tarot cards lay scattered among the wreckage. Along the west wall, the ancient cash register stood untouched by flames. The granite counter it rested on similarly spared. Lily—liking the barrier of protection it offered—went behind it and unrolled her sleeping bag. She stashed her messenger bag containing the Ouija under the counter. In the days after the world ended, she’d only tried playing with it once but the lack of a real planchette rendered the board voiceless. She sat to rest.
Since seeing the canyon that had swallowed her block, her home, her parents, she wandered without purpose. Shocked at first, then grief-stricken, then resigned. Never stopping for long. Always avoiding the battles, the Angels and Demons, and other survivors. She had no urge to interact with people. They’d become too unpredictable for her to feel the protection of numbers. Besides, with her cellphone useless she had no means to communicate. She could use pen and paper, but it seemed too much effort. Finding food and water consumed every hour, every ounce of energy.
Lily opened a can of beans and had supper by candlelight. Outside, the war raged on as it always did, far enough away she wouldn’t have to worry about finding a new place tonight. The occasional scuffle of feet went by, but Lily wasn’t concerned. No one would scavenge Mad Molly’s for food, water, or gear. She blew out the candle and climbed into the sleeping bag. Lying on her back, she gazed up at the darkened ceiling. Blue light shimmered overhead.
Oh shit.
She prayed the door in the back room wasn’t blocked in case she needed a fast escape. The light flared. She clenched her eyes, waiting for the concussion that didn’t come. Whispery breaths teased her hair, touched her face. Frightened yet curious, Lily snuck a peek.
Crystals of all shapes, sizes, and colors floated around her. Individually, they flashed—green, purple, pink, and blue-white—at random intervals. It reminded her of the fireflies of youth, of the time her family lived on a farm in the Midwest. She pushed up on her hands to get a better look at the incredible wonder happening before her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the shimmer of Mother-of-Pearl. The Ouija sat propped against a hunk of blackened wood.
Wait? How did...
Her questions died as the iridescent letters twitched and switched places. The sun winked and the moon grinned. Numbers danced. Mesmerized, Lily watched everything swirl together in a luminescent cyclone. She didn’t wonder if she were dreaming. Angels, Demons, and the apocalypse had all bled her sense of disbelief in the intangible. A sense of calm, a sense of rightness, soothed her.
On the Ouija, shapes burbled from the twisting mass. Blue light misted around her. Within it, flashes of arms, faces, and hands. Rustling sighs and whispers. As sudden as it had begun it stopped. The Ouija became just a board again.
She crawled over to inspect the board, the crystals following. They trailed her back to the sleeping bag then grew dim and fell. She scooped them up and put them in her satchel. Running her fingertips across the lettering of the Ouija, she wondered if their movement had been a trick.
What are you?
Of course, the board didn’t answer. No matter, it soothed her to caress the letters in big sweeping loops. The board made her feel safe. She wished it would come alive again.
Patience, Lily. You’ll see.
Lily lifted her fingers. It sounded as if it had spoken, only in her head. She wet her lips.
Naw, I had to have imagined it.
She touched the obsidian but nothing spoke back.
See? My imagination.
Satisfied yet slightly disappointed, she traced a figure eight between the Yes and No. One by one the crystals made their way out of her bag to hover around her. Their soft glow cast her hands in a prism.
In a world come apart at the seams, Lily accepted this bit of magic. It was all she had left to believe in.