Crystal Child (A Proof of Concept)

         “You said she was completely silent.”

         “Completely. Not a peep.”

         “Is that normal for an infant to be born completely silent?”

         “No, but it’s been known to happen. I think it’s the shock, really. Just shows how the baby reacts to a brand new feeling.” The Doctor finished the report of the birth and then tucked the clipboard under one arm, keeping the pen at the ready. Brandon stayed sitting, perplexed. His Cynthia, his love, the mother of his child.

         “Now, it may be a bit soon, but have you—“

         “Chandra. Her name is Chandra.” Brandon looked straight into the Doctor’s eyes, his face completely neutral. The Doctor had seen it before, the great loss and gain one in Brandon’s position usually feels after something like this. After a few uncomfortable seconds of quiet sadness, the Doctor wrote down the baby’s new name and then moved back to the door, disappearing behind the swinging metal. Brandon just looked back down at his feet, numb and emotionally compromised.

         He would have to call his mother, ask her to help him while he made better arrangements at work. He’d have to find a sitter after that, someone he could trust. So much to do, now that everything had fallen apart.

         No, he couldn’t think that. Not everything had been destroyed. From Cynthia, he had received the greatest gift if all, even though it had come at such a terrible price. Oh, Cynthia.

         The doors swung open once more; this time it was a nurse holding a small bundle. Brandon looked up; a slight smile crossed his face, as somber as the occasion was. He stood, outstretching his arms, taking the bundle into the crook of one and thanking the nurse. He sat down and pulled some of the blanket away from the baby’s face so he could see, and what he saw washed away all of his doubts, as if all worry had drained into those innocent blue eyes.

O O O

         Blue eyes looked across a small half acre of back yard covered in healthy green grass, a garden in one corner and a swing-set beside it. A fence of electrified wire held up by wooden poles surrounded the area, the pulsing buzz audible in the quiet stillness of the evening. Midsummer; trees as green as the breeze was comforting, and all seemed right in the world.

         But, those blue eyes saw more. Shadows moving underneath the leaves and needles, watching, waiting, and listening. Those eyes saw horrors beyond comprehension of even the most imaginative of writers or artists. They saw an evil more real than inebriation or mere dishonesty.

         They saw the end, what caused it, and how to avoid it.

         “Chandra, your sandwich is ready.” Brandon, older now with flecks of gray in the scruff of his beard, leaned a head out of a window in the house, a medium-sized ranch home made more than affordable on a lawyer’s salary. Chandra, after a moment’s hesitation, turned to her father, and he too understood. Something was coming, just as always when that seven-year-old girl had that look of fear.

O O O

         Chandra finished the last bite of the sandwich, and then smiled like a normal seven year-old would. It was one of the few moments that Brandon was almost able to forget the things that she was cursed to see, no matter the time or place. He smiled back, and then ruffled her hair playfully. He wondered if she ever tried to look back at her birth, at what her mother looked like.

         “I never have,” she said to her father, whose smile faltered for a moment. He had managed to forget the full extent of her abilities.

         “Yeah,” he said, a bit somber. He took his hand away from Chandra’s head and leaned back in his recliner, the sounds of Jeopardy starting on the set. That was Chandra’s favorite show; it was able to take her vision off of her surroundings and focus it onto the T.V. The little distractions were what helped her most.

         As she focused on Alex Trebek, giving the answers to the questions before the clue came up, Brandon went to the phone. Picking it up, he dialed a number and waited.

         “Brandon?” said the voice on the other end of the line, “Is that you?”

         “Of course, Marge, as usual.” Brandon smiled a bit at the playfulness in Marge’s voice; she was just like Chandra, but Marge had been around far longer.

         “I’m just calling to say—“

         “Something is coming. I know. I felt it about the same time as she did.”

         “What do you think? About this… something or other?”

         “What I think? Well…” Brandon waited, hearing Chandra in the other room say something and having it repeated by one of the contestants, like an echo in reverse.

         “I think she’ll be able to explain the local events better than I can. Here, it’s much weaker. There, however, even you should be able to feel the pressure after a while.” It was true; Brandon was feeling a loose squeeze inside of his chest. He slowly lifted a hand towards his chest, and then stopped when he realized what he was doing. He heard a laugh on the other side of the line.

         “Oh, Brandon! You of all people should realize that what you’re feeling now is now mere psychological manifestation. You and Chandra are now in a vortex of spectral energy. The source, neither of us would be able to be certain what it is, but she should be able to keep the both of you safe!” Marge laughed again, and then the line closed.

         Brandon was left with a feeling of being intruded upon. Marge wasn’t the type to hang up in mid-speech. He listened to the speaker a few more moments, and then hung up the phone. He stepped into the living room, perplexed. He could have sworn he had heard something before he took the speaker from his ear. Could it have been… breathing?