The Black Crystal Ball

By Alan Smith

George, Caroline, Samantha and Christine Adams. Were a normal suburban family, whose lives were to be changed forever after a visit to a Psychic and Mystic Fayre. held in a local hotel, one rainy Sunday morning.

The Black Crystal Ball that George bought from the funny little vendor who didn't exist, proved to be more than a strange medium for passing information. It also turned out to be an ethereal vehicle for sinister revenge, something they would remember for the rest of their lives.
Nothing could have prepared them for the strange happenings that started in a minor way before they even left the Psychic and Mystic Fayre.
Events continued in a frighteningly increasing intensity in the ensuing weeks and months.
Just what had George bought? How will Caroline handle the increasing body count of pimps, bullies, murderers, paedophiles. Where will it end? Will it end?
It is an exciting read and a roller coaster of pleasure, satisfaction and horror, all rolled into one

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Smith
• Release date: May 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301213771

Alan Smith

Born in Ashton-Under Lyne in Lacashire (now Tameside) at a date I am not going to disclose for now! I spent a long unsatisfying childhood of broken dreams and promises. I decided I was going to start work as an apprentice cook, so I started work illegally at the age of fourteen,- still not satisfied, at Walls factory in Hyde in Cheshire. That was during the school holidays. Once the holidays had finished, it was back to school to finish at the age of fifteen.After a brief period of being an apprentice welder at Sturtevant Engineering in Denton I started on my Electrical career and being then a "nearly time-served" electrician, after a 4 year period, I decided to go labouring for the extra money needed. Having an electronics background as a hobby, I thought it was only natural that I should persue this and when I was 21, I joined the Royal Signals, studied Telecommunications, got married, had two wonderful girls and travelled throughout Cyprus, Germany, England, Gibraltar and Ireland. I Started a folk group whilst stationed in Laarbruch in Germany, called Penny Farthing. We travelled all over Europe with the group. (Well, Belgium, Holland Germany) I Play G banjo,Tenor Banjo, Guitar, Cittern, Bouzouki, Mandolin, Bass, Tin Whistle, Dulcimer and sitar. Keyboards figured well into my life as I learned to play the piano at an early age, materialising as keyboards in a band.I got my first computer, which was the ZX Spectrum 48K (wow, so much memory!), I started to program in BASIC. When I left the Army in 1987 - now you can start to put together the clues on age! I started working in Telecomms and later on Data companies like IBM and Lucent Technologies. I wrote many comedy songs. During the course of my writing career, I have written many thousands of pages of comedy, speeches and commissioned works for other people and their companies and many hundreds of CV's for people looking for work. So, in effect, my writing has literally helped me through the hard times when I was out of work.I still write the books using a real pen and paper, the analogue version of a word processor. When I first started writing books, I was amazed at, after using computers for work and providing documents, how hard it was to control my hand to do real writing. It was unbelievable! It was like a drunken spider had crawled out of an inkwell and walked across the page. If it wasn't for the fact that I use lined paper, I think it w...

Book preview

Chapter 1

Mick Norris was a thief. He had been in and out of Strangeways prison all his life. He was an habitual liar and couldn’t keep his hands off anything that wasn’t nailed down. He was known to the local police as a rogue. To everyone else, he was a thievin’ bastard. He was regularly pulled up by the police for having no tax disc on his car, or any insurance whatsoever. Now Nick didn’t have a regular car if you see what I mean. Every other day, he’d trade his old car in for another old car. If a car cost more than fifty quid, It was too much he’d say. The real reason that he changed his car so often, was that his reasoning told him that the police couldn’t keep up with him. In his way, he was right. The amount of times that Nick had been arrested for one misdemeanour or another, involving car offences, he’d just turn round and say, I have never had a car like that or used anything like you said I did, or words to that similar effect. His language was beyond belief. The Police spent so much time and energy trying to track him down, that sometimes, they just binned the paperwork and let it go.

Nick was one for moving around. He never stayed in his Council house for long periods of time. A long period of time in Nick’s limited and colourful vocabulary, was anything longer than three months. This long period of time was to allow him to befriend someone with a Home Shopping catalogue, order an enormous amount of new stuff and bugger off without paying for it. He would order a new three-piece suite, a washing machine, and a television and stereo. Then he would request the council for a change of house or flat. By the time the request had come through, he would have made one payment to the catalogue and done a moonlight flit as he would say. He would then start all over again.

The cars he had were nearly always used in a robbery of one description or another. The amount of times he backed the car through a plate glass window of an electrical shop and stolen the contents, were nobody’s business. The next morning, he had a different car or had hand-painted it a different colour and had already sold the proceeds of the previous night’s work, in an early morning pub near the Slaughterhouse in Gorton, or the pubs in Covent Garden Fruit Market, Manchester.

If anyone knew Nick, they’d keep their hands in their pockets and a close eye on their personal items. There was no loyalty among thieves where Nick was concerned. He used to find credit cards, tell his family to get dressed-up and they’d go and have a lavish meal somewhere out of the district and use the credit card before it was reported as being stolen. The whole family was in on Nick’s game. Sadie, Nick’s wife, was also an habitual liar and would back any of Nick’s claims to the hilt if there were ever any trouble with the police. He was here all night was her favourite story to the CID. That is unless, Nick had told her to stick to a story that they had concocted together. Stick to it she did. through hell and high-water, she would not budge an inch.

He didn’t quite know why he was in Ashington at the time, maybe he was looking for somewhere open, to think maybe. Now when I say open, I mean some house, caravan, car, rubbish-skip. That kind of open. Somewhere he might find something handy that he could sell very quickly for an immediate profit. He saw a computer in the room through the window of number 78. He thought to himself, ‘If they can afford a computer, what have they got inside?’ He looked at the house on the outside, noticed there was no alarm and went up to the front door. He knocked, there was no answer. He knocked again, still no answer. He went round the back. He could see that there was an old rotting gate, some dog shit in the yard and a small barking dog. That wouldn’t bother Nick anyway, he was used to dogs and they didn’t scare him. He would leave the back gate open, break in the back door, let the dog through the gate and close the gate behind the dog, leaving him to rob the house in question. He parked his car round the back and eyed up the neighbours. No moving curtains, no neighbourhood watch schemes in operation. This’ll do he told himself. Quick as a flash, he was over the back gate and into the house, smashing through the kitchen door window as though he had a divine right to be there. He unlocked the kitchen door and let himself in. He entered the kitchen and went through into the front room. He looked around the room. The computer was too bulky to get out of the house without causing him a hernia. Five minutes later, he was carrying the stereo out of the house and into his car. He walked back in and was just about to take all the small ornaments off the shelf when there was a loud bang.

He looked round through the back window and the gate had been shut violently. There was a second loud bang as the same thing happened to the back door. He dropped everything and ran to the back door. It was not locked or bolted, but it would not open. Quickly, he ran to the front door. He could not turn the yale lock or the door handle. He looked at the bolt as it slid slowly home, all by itself. It was not often Nick panicked, but he did now. There was something strange about this house and he didn’t quite know what it was. He turned on his heels and made his way upstairs. The back-room window which was originally open, was now closing by itself. He made a frantic effort to stop the latch bolts from locking onto the window frame, but an unexplained force threw him onto the bed at the other side of the room. He recovered quickly and made for the bedroom door to go downstairs again. He made it. As soon as he was out of the door, and on his way down the stairs, the bedroom door slammed shut. Now he was scared like he had never been scared before. He ran down the stairs three at a time, such was his hurry to get out of there. He ran into the back room of the house.

The Black Crystal Ball on the mantelpiece, vibrated in its glass prison. Nick felt himself lifted violently onto the ceiling. He was gently lowered and again, violently thrown at the ceiling. This continued for some two minutes. He felt his senses departing from him. ‘This can’t be happening to me,’ he thought, but it was. Time and time again he was thrown against the ceiling. Then it stopped. Nick plummeted to the floor. He recovered sufficiently to take control of himself and made for the back door again. He heard a slight whisper coming from nowhere in particular. PUT IT BACK said the whisper. Suddenly, the back door opened wide followed by the gate, followed by the car boot. Nick didn’t need telling what to do. Instinct took over and he was out through the back-door like a flash. He slammed the car-boot down and opened the car door. He got in and had just started the car when he was yanked out by some unseen force. He was dragged back inside the house terrified by what was going to happen. The back gate slammed shut behind him again, the back door slammed violently shut and Nick found himself sitting on the settee. Not for long. He was thrown off the settee onto the wall and was hurled into every corner of the room. He was aching now and probably damaged as he called himself.

A loud voice, now more intent said "PUT IT BACK. Nick, now extremely nervous tried to shout Who are you?, but he could only manage a whisper. PUT IT BACK The voice commanded. Again the back door opened, followed by the back gate. Nick felt himself being pushed through the house by the unseen force. He was pushed through the back gate and towards his car. The boot opened violently, revealing the stolen stereo. Again the voice commanded PUT IT BACK. Nick picked up the stereo and wandered wild-eyed into the house and replaced the stereo. The kitchen door slammed shut. Nick felt himself being pushed into the kitchen. His right hand was forced onto the work-top in the kitchen. He could not move it! The kitchen drawer opened and the large carving knife slid purposefully out of the drawer. Nick couldn’t believe his eyes! OH, NO! NO! NO!" he shouted at the top of his voice, He tried to grab at the knife which was now hovering before his eyes. Nick’s arm was yanked violently up his back. He was powerless to move.

The knife came down with a bang onto the work-top. Nick’s severed fingers lay on the work-top. Blood spurted from the finger-less hand. Nick nearly feinted. The grip on him was released, the back door flew open wide, followed by the back gate. Nick was then forced out towards his car. MY Fingers, My Fuckin’ fingers, Let me have my fuckin’ fingers back! screamed Nick. He was pushed into his car, the engine was started, the car door was slammed shut and the voice commanded "GET OUT!" Nick screwed an oily rag round the finger-less hand and headed off to the nearest doctors surgery. He didn’t want to do that, he wanted his precious fingers back, but if he went back into that house, he would end up armless as well and handless.

Chapter 2 Two weeks previous

A hand snaked out of the bed and switched off the incessant blaring of the electronic alarm clock. ‘Why Me?’ George thought to himself. George Adams, Sunday morning at six-fifteen, is not a good time for anyone to get up! He chastised himself every Sunday like this. The same thing happened every weekend. He was getting used to it, but one of these weekends, he would have a lie-in. He arose sleepy-headed from the bed and fumbled his way across to the bathroom, showered, trudged his way down the stairs and put the kettle on. Caroline would be ringing soon, he thought. He squeezed the tea-bag out with his fingers and threw it into the rubbish bag.

Caroline Adams worked as a Care Assistant at Kortts Centre not far away in Ashington town centre. She had worked nights for the past three years. Friday and Saturday were her nights on duty, sometimes she would get a few nights’ overtime but she could catch the bus home. Fridays and Saturdays were different. She finished at 7.am. The buses started running at 8.am. She didn’t want to hang around for an hour, so George volunteered to pick her up from her place. He didn’t think it would last long, but Oh! How wrong he was. He had three years of picking Caroline up. Three years of no Lie-ins at weekends!

He sat down on the easy chair and sipped his tea. He looked at the clock, 6.44. ‘Another minute and she will phone’, he thought. Samantha and Christine were still asleep in their beds, ‘where anyone in their right mind should be’, he thought idly.

The phone rang. He looked at the clock ‘Right on time’ he said to himself, ‘6.45 on the nose.’ Hello Caroline, yes, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, see you in a little while. He put the phone down and drank the last dregs of his tea. Half an hour later, they were both back at the house. Your turn to brew up, Caroline, George shouted to her as she disappeared up to the bathroom.

OK she replied, You stick the kettle on then, and I’ll be down in a minute or two. George walked into the kitchen and filled the kettle with cold water. A few minutes later, Caroline was back downstairs and was in the kitchen making a tea and a coffee.

I’ve had a rotten night, said Caroline, the tiredness reflecting in her voice. I’m going to bed in a minute and get some sleep. OK, George said, What time do you want waking up?

Oh about four-o-clock, said Caroline, as the need to sleep became apparent. She finished her coffee and put the empty cup in the sink, ready for George to do the washing up.

Caroline croaked I’m off to bed now, see you later. George turned to Caroline and gave her a kiss good-morning and she made her way upstairs. Tell the girls not to make a lot of noise when they get up won’t you?

She hated the noise as she was trying to sleep, especially on Sunday. Everyone seemed to make a noise on Sunday. There were cars arriving and departing all day, coming and going to the cemetery to place flowers at the graves. The estate down the road seemed to erupt after 9 am with screaming kids playing and generally making a nuisance of themselves.

The council houses down the road, had their fair share of noise-makers as well. There was always someone doing bodywork repairs to their cars on Sunday morning, or taking an engine out here and there and generally making incessant noise.

No, Caroline didn’t like it if it was noisy and she couldn’t get to sleep. If that happened, she would come downstairs feeling grumpy and looking very tired. This made it worse for George and the girls, as they usually got a telling off if the television was too loud. It wasn’t loud really, it was just that the television, in addition to all the noises outside, just made it worse. They all got a reprimand, even if it wasn’t their fault.

The girls got up at around 9-30. They didn’t have to be told to be quiet. They knew what would happen. Samantha was seventeen, at college and doing her A levels. Christine was fifteen and at school, studying for her GCSE’s. What are we going to do today, Dad?

"I don’t know, what are we going to do today, Christine?" Christine looked up and shrugged her shoulders.

Who’s got the paper? George asked without looking up. Silence...

Have you seen it, Samantha? Samantha shrugged her shoulders as well. They were both very good at shrugging - must have got it from their mother- he thought. George hunted round the room and found last night’s paper nestling under the telephone directory that had mysteriously appeared from the cupboard. He looked through the paper, but nothing interesting jumped out and glared at him. He glanced up and looked through the window. ‘Just my luck’ he thought, ‘it’s raining’. Well girls, unless there’s something to do at a craft fayre, or somewhere inside, I’m afraid we won’t be going anywhere at all today. Here, Samantha, you have a look. He threw the paper towards Samantha and she caught it and opened it on the ‘Events’ page. What’s a physic and mystic fayre Dad? George burst out laughing.

A what?

"Oh, a Psychic and mystic fayre?" she corrected herself.

I’ve heard about them, but I haven’t actually been to one myself he answered. Do you fancy going?

What have you heard about them? Samantha asked curiously.

Oh, nothing much out of the ordinary, except that they have Tarot-card readers, Witches and fortune tellers there. There’s a few stalls where you can buy strange books as well and learn the so-called inner secrets of fortune telling and Astrology in general he replied.

Can we go, Dad? asked Christine.

Well I think that under the circumstances, the fact that it’s raining, and we’ve got sod-all else to do...Where is it being held George asked.

It’s at the Village Hotel in Dukinfield. Said Samantha, now rather excited.

What time does it start Samantha? It’s on from 10am till 4am and the admission is one pound for adults and fifty pence for children. Do you think we’ll get in for fifty pence each? Enquired Samantha.

Oh I should think so, said George as he went upstairs to the bathroom. I’ll go and have a shower and a shave, you two can get ready and we’ll go.

One hour later, they were walking into the Village Hotel and looking for the sign that said ‘Psychic and Mystic Fayre’. They found it and followed the hand-crayoned arrows to the admissions desk. There was no queue, George walked up to the lady sitting on the desk and said quickly, One adult and two children please! The lady looked at George and the two girls, never questioned their ages and looked at George again, as if to say ‘I know their real ages’. George offered a five-pound note and the lady said Three pounds change, please keep the tickets, you may want to come back again.

They walked into what was normally, the hotel’s large dining room, with the tables set out around the perimeter of the room, and a large stall set out in the centre. He expected the room to be dull and dimly-lit. It wasn’t of course, it was very bright and all designed to catch the eye and make a sale or two, or ten. Sat at each of the tables, was a solitary man, or woman with their respective names written on large cards with names like ‘Ann Jones, Psychic’ or ‘Dave Eckersley, Clairvoyant’ or ‘June, Tarot Readings’.

In the centre of the room, was the large stall selling all manner of things. There were Tarot Cards, crystal balls, incense sticks, gemstones and hundreds of out-of-the-ordinary books. There were also a couple of small stalls with the same type of stuff, scattered around the room, but these didn’t have half the drawing power as the central stall.

There seemed to be, hundreds of people, all waiting to have their fortunes read. They were standing, as there was no sitting room. They all waited eagerly for their turn. George thought to himself ‘More like mis-fortunes looking at some of these people!’

Samantha and Christine were off like a rocket, looking at all the different types of gemstones on offer. There were Tiger’s Eye, Moonstones and a myriad of twinkling gemstones, all set out in their little compartments, all eagerly awaiting buyers. George made for the other end of the stall and browsed through the books and looked at the strange objects that littered the stall.

Samantha and Christine were talking to the lady who ran the large stall. She was telling them what the stones were, the powers that they had and the uses they could be put to. There were different kinds of herbs and small jars of incenses, all designed with spells and witchcraft in mind.

Isn’t it dangerous to mess with witchcraft? Samantha asked the lady at the stall. The large rotund lady turned to Samantha and said, Do I look like I’m a witch? she asked in a nice, quiet tone. Well, never having seen a witch before, I wouldn’t know Samantha answered, Do I look as though I’ve suffered any harm? she asked Samantha quietly. Samantha’s reply was short this time.No Well I am a witch, my name is Janice, I don’t think this witchcraft has done me any harm, do you? she quipped.

George was just catching the tail-end of the conversation and asked ‘Janice’ what witchcraft was all about. She was very light-hearted about the subject and explained that if he really wanted to find out, that he would read one of a number of books about the subject. George immediately thought that it was a ploy to make him buy a book from the stall. Before he could say anything more, she said You may read any of these books here and I won’t charge you a penny, unless of course you take it home. George did as she said and found a couple of books on the subject. He stood at the stall and proceeded to flick through some of the pages. He was slowly being bitten by the ‘unusual bug’. He picked up two of the books whose titles were ‘Scrying for the Beginner’ and ‘Develop your psychic Powers’. He flicked through some of the pages with the headings ‘Scrying with the Magic Mirror’ ‘Using the Crystal- Ball’ and various other titles. He put them back on the shelf and decided to have a look round the other stalls.

He came to the stall in the corner that seemed to be hidden from view compared with the other stalls. A kindly old man was the proprietor of this stall and bid George welcome as he perused the contents of the old man’s stall. Please feel free to handle anything from my emporium said the old man but don’t forget, if you break anything, I will have to charge you for it said the old man again with a curious glint in his eye. I will try to remember said George with a smile.

He looked up and down the stall with interest and asked a number of questions as to what the various oddments were on the stall. He looked on the shelf at the back and saw about a dozen crystal balls, all of differing sizes and colours. I thought that crystal balls were all clear asked George, That’s not necessarily so, said the old man. He continued. The colour of the ball is insignificant, as are the flaws in it. It is your feeling when you handle them that counts. Are you a psychic? George enquired of the old man. Of that I certainly am, he replied. He handed George a piece of paper that was folded up. Please do not open that piece of paper until you are ready to go home he said very slowly. That piece of paper will bring you something unusual.

George stuffed the paper into his pocket and looked again at the black crystal balls. How much for the large black one on the right? That, I’m afraid, sir, is eighteen pounds. It is made of Black Obsidian, from deep within the very bowels of the earth.

Does that come with the stand? he asked again. The old man looked at the stand. It was a finely carved stand with a lot of intricate fretwork. ‘It must have taken someone hours to make that’, George thought.

If you really want the black crystal ball, and the stand, I will let you have them both for eighteen pounds and not a penny less.

George had to work this one out, the stand, alone was probably worth that on detail alone, the black crystal ball would certainly look alright on the shelf of the unit, and, it certainly would be a talking point. George said I will think about it and let you know. The old man looked unconcerned, as George walked away to the other stalls. He went immediately to the central stall and pulled out the two books he had been reading previously. How much are these two books, Janice?

The prices are on the inside cover, love, she said in a warm and friendly tone. He gave her a Ten-pound note and got two pence change. ‘Four pounds ninety-nine each. Caroline will go bloody bananas if she finds out,’ he thought to himself.

He went over to Samantha and Christine who were by now at the opposite ends of the large stall. How are you doing? he asked them, looking both ways.

Oh alright Dad said Christine.

Same here, Dad said Samantha from across the stall.

Got any bargains? He asked them again.

Loads of stones for my earrings and things, said Christine, looking pleased with herself.

I’ve got my Birth stone and a few handouts to tell me what stones are used for what, said Samantha.

George decided to leave them and go to the old man’s stall. He arrived there and the old man got up off his chair. Nice to see you back again. Now I can help you said the old man.

I’ll take the black crystal ball that you offered me said George.

Yes, I thought you would, said the old man. Would you like it in a bag or would you like to take it as it is?

In a bag, please said George, expectant of his prize.

That will be Eighteen pounds for the crystal, the stand and the black silk square, said the man.

What’s the silk square for? George enquired.

You will find all the answers in the books you have just bought the man said with a strange smile.

How did you?...Never mind.

The old man winked at him. Please go home and read your books and enjoy the fruits of your labours. George gave the old man a twenty-pound note and received the two pounds change. He went to get Samantha and Christine to see if they were ready to go home. They met half-way in the room.

We were just coming to see if you were ready to go, Samantha said. Have you bought anything exciting?

Not really, just a crystal ball for the shelf. George smiled.

They made their way out of the Hotel and walked to the car. He pulled his keys from his pocket and a folded slip of paper fell to the ground. The paper was the one the old man gave him inside the hotel. He bent down to pick it up and he opened it, remembering the old man’s words. Inside, written in black ink were the words,

Let there be no curse or swear , it’s ears are everywhere.

With care thou see’est true, what this ball will bring to you.

Eighteen pounds you’ll spend, this crystal ball I vend.

The stand and silk are free, Caroline will wake ‘fore tea.

Now, how the hell did he know that? George said aloud, What’s that Dad? Samantha asked. He told them what the old man had done when he went to the stall the very first time and what the man had told him to do with the paper on leaving to set off home.

George got out of the car and made his way back into the hotel, his curiosity aroused. He made his way to the admissions desk and the kind old lady stopped him. Ticket please, she said in a quiet voice. George fumbled in his pockets for the tickets he had purchased earlier on. The woman said Never mind, dear, I remember you from earlier on, when you first came in. Go straight in. "Thank you’ George said as he hurried back inside the dining room. He went straight to the corner of the room to where the old man’s table was. It was now occupied by ‘Zena, Clairvoyant’. Where is the old man? George asked Zena,

"What old man?’ She replied.

The old man who was on this stall before you came here? I have been here all day, said Zena

George looked around the room to make sure that he wasn’t in the wrong corner. He looked at Zena with mistrust and went to the next stall adjacent to Zena’s. He asked if the stall-holder had been there all afternoon and if he had seen an old man with a stall anywhere in the building. The stall-holder said he had been there, indeed, all afternoon and that there wasn’t a man of his description, anywhere on the premises. George thanked him and walked out of the hotel to the car. He got in the car and Samantha asked him which stall he had been to. George told them about the stall where he had got the black crystal ball and stand, and, the silk square from. Samantha and Christine replied that they hadn’t seen such a stall. They had been all round the room and that the only stalls that had been selling things, were the central one. How do you explain this note then? He produced the folded note that was given to him by the old man on the stall. It was as he had said. The writing in black ink was still there in rhyme.

George started up the engine and within half-an-hour was pulling up at the front of the house. They emerged out of the car and Samantha was at the door first. The key went in the Yale lock and turned. Patch, their dog, came bounding down the stairs, barking excitedly as he did, when all the rest of the flock came home after leaving him to fend for himself or to guard the house. Patch, be quiet or you’ll wake Mum up said Samantha trying to muffle the dog. He escaped and continued barking excitedly for a few minutes until that dreaded moment when Caroline got out of bed and walked down the stairs. There was a steady clumping down the stairs as Caroline made her way down. That’s it Patch, said George nervously, She’s up, now we’re all in trouble!

The day had started off very cold and wet and more or less stayed that way until the early evening when they returned excitedly with their prized possessions and a couple of books Right!.. he stated, now’s the time to get started and see if I have it in me. As long as you’re quiet about it! Caroline put in.

George was like that, a very impulsive guy, who once he had an idea in his head, would never let go until he had a thorough working knowledge. He would say thorough, but if the truth were known, if he had a reasonable amount of knowledge of the current fad, then that was good enough for him.

He sat down on the sofa and started to read the book on ‘Scrying for the beginner’. About halfway through the book, he put it down and said Brew up darling. Those were normally the first few words he said when he was interested in something that caught his eye...and he was thirsty of course! Caroline went through into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee and a cup of tea. He was never fond of coffee, nor Caroline, tea. The arguments they used to have when they first got married those eighteen years ago, about buying a Teasmade. Unfortunately, the ‘Teasmade’ only came in one particular variety, they either make tea or they make coffee. They don’t make both. They should have been called ‘Tease-Maids’ according to George. They had bought a second hand one and he tried to adapt it so that it would make both, but as usual, it failed. The fierce bubbling of the kettle reminded her that she was still making the tea. Caroline gave George the hot steaming mug of tea. He always liked a mug. He said that a cup didn’t hold enough and that he always felt cheated out of a few more mouthfuls of tea, if it were given to him in a cup.

He was still deep into his book when he reached for the black crystal ball, his prized new possession. Hmmm, I can’t seem to feel any vibrations in this thing like I’m supposed to! He said dejectedly. Let’s have a look at the book George, Caroline said wryly. She pored over the contents for a time and said, You are supposed to pick any crystal ball according to the vibrations you feel at the time when you purchase it. Did you feel any vibrations when you chose that particular crystal ball?

It was the only crystal ball that caught my eye and it didn’t look flawed, he added.

Well according to this book, it doesn’t really matter if it is flawed, according to this book, you don’t really need a crystal ball, all you need is a saucer of ink and... what did you really buy the black crystal ball for, anyway?

So I could see into the future, maybe pick a winner, see tomorrows news, make a fortune on the pools,...who knows?

Well according to this book, if you get a saucer and pour some black ink into it, if you have the necessary powers you can see the future in the ink. It’s not necessary to buy a crystal ball. How much did it cost anyway?

Have a look underneath the crystal ball, the price tag is on the bottom, if indeed there is one, then at least you’ll be able to say that you have seen into the past when you find out from another source as to how much I paid for it!

Eighteen Quid? Did you really pay eighteen bloody quid for this piece of black glass? Caroline protested wildly.

"Yep! Well I thought, that if it didn’t work, that we could stick it on the mantlepiece as a talking point when we have friends round. I mean, you never know, but I was hoping to know, if you get my meaning?"

By this time Caroline was getting a little tired and suggested going to bed.

But it’s only half past nine George protested. I’ll be up in a little while dear, I’m just going to have a read and maybe try it out for myself to see if I can get any vibrations from it, or whatever, I’ll see you in a few minutes, said George, minutely examining the crystal ball for any sign of ethereal activity. The girls joined in, "School in the morning, Night Dad!

Half an hour later, Caroline was well into her latest novel. Everything was quiet, Deathly quiet, which was rather unusual in that house as there was always something going on when George was in. Either he was clicking away at the computer keyboard or something of that nature, making a bit of noise doing one of the kids’ bikes or playing with the fish tank when he wasn’t particularly tired. Then the unexpected happened, one of the most ghastly, unearthly screams came from downstairs. Caroline was scared, maybe he conjured up something from the future or the past and it was attacking him or... Caroline didn’t know what to think. She finally plucked up the courage to shout out downstairs George are you alright?

Another shriek came from downstairs. She shouted again "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" Another moan. Caroline threw the duvet off and ran downstairs to see George writhing in agony on the floor in the dimly-lit room. There was a lit-candle on the table, the front room was in semi-darkness and there was George nursing his foot.

What happened?

George, still writhing in agony said I dropped the bloody crystal ball on my toes that’s what’s bloody ‘appened!

Are you alright? She enquired, holding back an almost uncontrollable laugh.

Of course I’m not all bloody alright. I think I’ve broken my big toe! He said painfully.

Let’s have a look she said, feeling she was about to burst with laughter. Caroline pulled off the sock and held his foot in her lap. She inspected the now swelling area of his big toe and pressed it.

YEEEEOOOOWWWWW!

I’m sorry dear did that hurt? She exploded into laughter.

Of course it bloody hurt, you silly sod! he said with genuine pain and surprise.

Ah! that’s alright then, it’s not broken, just bruised, it will feel a lot better in the morning after you have had one of my special potions!

What’s that? He asked.

A can of lager she said knowingly.

I’m beginning to feel better even now! Another three special potions and the throbbing subsided completely. Caroline put The black crystal ball on the shelf of the unit and turned out the light in the dining room and turned off the fish-tank lights. Ten minutes later George was in bed still reading the book ‘scrying for pleasure’, when he heard a very strange noise. It sounded like a resonant, vibrating noise coming from downstairs. It was regular, occurring every two seconds then disappearing for about the same length of time.

Can you hear that Caroline?

What?

That noise coming from downstairs? She listened intently for about ten seconds and said she could hear something, but didn’t know what it was, or where it was coming from.

George got out of bed and went down to investigate. After all, it was only a two bedroom, terraced house in the middle of Lancashire. Nothing sinister ever happened here so what was there to be scared about? He turned on the wall lights and looked round to where the vibrations were coming from.

There on the shelf, moving very slowly towards the front of the shelf, was The black crystal ball. Every few seconds it moved, only a few millimetres at a time, but discernible in movement. There had to be a reason for the slight movement, but he couldn’t think of any at the time. He went cautiously to the black crystal ball and picked it up. There wasn’t any vibration coming from that, so he replaced it back on the shelf. It started happening again. He leaned on the fish-tank top and it stopped vibrating. Then the penny dropped. The air pump for the fish tank had somehow come off its foam base and was vibrating loudly by now and causing small vibrations to be transmitted through the whole unit. The only thing without a proper flat base was the black crystal ball causing it to vibrate in unison with the air pump. He replaced the air pump back on to its foam rubber base and checked to see if that was really the cause. It was. ‘Back to bed for George’ he thought. Fifteen minutes later he was out for the count. Caroline’s potions had done the job.

Chapter 3

The next morning started out wet again. At the office, things were rolling along smoothly like they normally did in this company. Computer wiring was the main business for the company. They installed computer cabling in multi-storey businesses like the large Insurance Companies, Fords, or any company that wanted to expand or update their present wiring systems. The In tray was overflowing. George started on that. He dealt with one item, a letter confirming the loss of one of the IBM deals he was working on. He put it in file 13 to react to it later on. It was normally the pricing of the deals that lost the contracts, but he was always able to overcome that particular reason. The next item on the tray was a note. The note read ‘George, please phone home immediately, Urgent!’ Signed Jayne.

Jayne Williamson was the secretary, a petite bundle of hyper energy. When she heard the office door open, she strolled out and confirmed that George had got the message. It was from your wife, she said excitedly, She sounded quite annoyed! George phoned the number and Caroline answered.

What’s the matter dear? he said, in his best office voice.

It’s your crystal ball!

Well?

It’s killed two of my best bloody fish!

What do you mean?

I mean, that it’s killed two of my lovely little pink catfish!

How?

Your crystal ball just jumped into the fish tank and murdered my bloody catfish, that’s what I mean!

Calm down love, I’m sure it didn’t do it on purpose!

It bloody did! It jumped, and I mean JUMPED off the shelf, right into the top of the tank and squashed my poor little pinkies onto the imitation coral rock that they loved so much. George could imagine how she felt and acted, pacing up and down with the phone in her hand. That the poor little fish, her poor little fish, didn’t see the crystal ball coming...’maybe fishes weren’t psychic either’, George thought to himself.

Maybe we should have bought Glass catfish, he said, hoping to ease her pain and introduce a bit of humour. That didn’t work either! She slammed the phone down. Five hours later George was home. Right! tell me exactly what happened!

"I was watching the television and saw something moving on the unit, you know, just out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t quite see what it was, so I decided to see if whatever it was, moved again. I waited for about a minute thinking it would move again but of course nothing did, so I went back to watching the television. Then suddenly, I heard a scraping noise coming from the unit and my attention