The Water Glas

         The Water Glass

                   The fading sunlight cascaded through my prisms causing a rainbow to quiver on the rough wood of the dining room table. The warmth was what I longed for. I longed to be held. I wished to be used as something more than a vessel. I needed to be wanted, and wanted to be needed.

         But the sunlight was soon thrust aside as the night invaded, disclosing the sinister fears and desires of all who had succumbed to the darkness. My thousand crystal eyes studied my master’s movements with a crisp perfection. The leather breeches clinging to his massive thighs swayed, mimicking his every movement. The worried look etched into his expression caught my attention as he paced closer toward me. His tender fingers embraced my middle, raising me until I was parallel with his other hand containing a pitcher of water.

         He then began to fill me. The water raced over the smooth linings of my insides, immersing me in its cool tranquility, calming my trepidations. But as my master lowered me back down to the hard wooden table, my crystals became rigid, sensing a malevolent presence enter magnificent dining hall.

         The extravagant room oddly belittled this massive stranger, but his dark countenance and intense expression exposed his true character. Whoever he may be my master seemed all too happy to receive him. My master greeted the stranger with warm eyes and a kind smile, while the stranger returned my master’s greeting with a firm handshake and a fiendish grin. But as master left the room I was shaken to my crystalline core as this stranger revealed to me, from his pocket, a small vial. This vial contained a transparent liquid, which breathed hatred of past and present. As he opened the vial a hot aroma seeped through the air. When I saw what he meant to do I struggled, my crystal rubbing hard against the table as I began to sway in an effort to escape. It was futile; the stranger merely closed his overpowering hand on top of me, suffocating me, steadying me, murdering me. The first drop of poison hit me hard: burning, infecting, and like a witch’s nails upon a human’s skin, it was cutting me. The water I had been harboring converted into a wine colored liquid only to return once more to water. Or was that the devil’s sarcasm?
         I felt my senses dim, just as the luster of my crystal had dimmed with this infectious poison. My eyesight began to blur as though the poison was seeping into my beloved crystal. I could feel my master being seated. Where was he sitting? I had wondered. He seemed so far away, but so awfully close at the same time. Then a warm touch held me. My eyesight returning abruptly and painfully as I watched his handsome and all too familiar face draw nearer. As his sensual lips met my rim, with a tender and strong pressure, I felt the poison drain from me and into him.
         He drew me back, and the familiar tingle of light from a candle pierced me. My eyes focused on both men at opposite ends of the elongated table. One man dying swiftly of a poison inflicted by the other, while I sensed the stranger died slowly of a more malicious venom. As the warm man holding me fell closer to his death I fell with him. The vanity I once held for my prized crystal shattered into a hundred pieces. Tears of hate dripped off my eyes that were scattered everywhere on the floor. They roved over everything.
         When the stranger came I expected him to gather me. But he only left me alone and cold. I knew I could not be healed. I was dead. I would never be held, warmed, wanted or needed again. But I had finally been used. A stranger had used me to kill. I had killed. My eyes grimly turned to my beloved who shared my fate. The eyes that were once warm, now stared back at me in cold silence, reminding me, one should not always get what one wishes for.