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Fulgurite

A Delaware store not far from the beach features some interesting things, and a peculiar shopkeeper.

By Skyler SaundersPublished 2 years ago Updated 5 months ago 4 min read
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Photograph by: yoyoj3d1

The peal of the doorbell rang through the small shop in Ocean View, Delaware. A woman in her mid thirties came to the front. She saw a teenage boy named Emory Everett looking at the purple crystals.

“You know we’re closing in about five minutes,” Arlene Smott said to the young man.

By Dominik Scythe on Unsplash

“Oh, okay. I’d like to purchase this,” he clutched the crystal, and put it on the counter. He reached into his pocket, and looked down at the display case. Arlene went to get some wrapping paper.

“What’s that?”

Arlene turned and said, “Fulgurite.”

“Ful— what?”

“It’s a formation when lightning strikes dirt, rock, or in this case, sand,” she explained.

“I’ll take that, too,” Emory said. He pulled out a wad of cash.

“Sure thing,” she said. Emory turned around as Arlene wrapped the crystal, but left the fulgurite out of the packaging.

Emory turned around to face Arlene who held the fulgurite up in the air.

By Jason D on Unsplash

“It’s really quite magnificent how nature can create such beautiful pieces.”

“Yes, I never heard of that before,” Emory said, tension rising in his voice. “But I’ve got to get back to my parents,” he said.

“Absolutely. But before you leave, would you like to see a bigger selection of these wondrous works?”

“I should be going. Let’s make it quick,” he indicated.

Arlene came around the counter and led Emory to the back of the store. She opened a door and showcased brown, gray, and white samples. Emory faced them. His eyes grew wide and he forgot about getting back to his folks. He looked around at the glass and then faced Arlene who was wearing a smock now. She held the eight inch glassy substance high and stabbed Emory in the throat. He choked and fell to the floor. He tried to crawl to the door but Arlene stepped on his back. He bled out with that action. She dragged his lifeless body from the room, and mopped up the mess. A body bag aided Arlene in her disposal of Emory’s body.

By Ahmed Zayan on Unsplash

Later that night after she had cleaned up the surfaces of any trace of Emory, Arlene moved on to the final step in her actions. Outside the back of the store, a truck with a small boat attached gave Arlene the chance to take the corpse to the Atlantic Ocean. Once she reached the section of the docks she backed the boat. She drove out to the water. At the deepest part of the body of water, she slipped the young boy’s body in the murky depths. Arlene simply smiled and covered her right hand over her heart as if reciting the pledge. She got back to the store and locked everything up. She journeyed to her house.

After drawing her bathwater, She sat down in the soapy water and reached for her beloved copy of Immanuel Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason. Arlene heard the doorbell ring. She toweled off and put on a night gown and robe.

“Good evening, officer. It’s good to see you this evening. What, may I ask, do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“We’re looking for a young boy named Emory Everett. He was reportedly last placed at your store. Does this picture look familiar?”

Arlene peered at the photograph.

“Yes, he stopped by the store late in the day yesterday. I was about to sell him some fulgurite and crystal. He then changed his mind, said, ‘no thanks,’ and jetted out of the place.”

By Krystal Ng on Unsplash

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Only that he had to catch up with his folks.”

“If you have any other information, feel free to let us know. Here’s my personal card so you can contact me directly.”

“Thank you, Officer McCowan.”

Arlene closed the door.

The next day at the shop, Arlene dusted off the sand dollars. A young girl stepped through the door. Seventeen-year-old Lalia Vance, a friend of Emory’s, approached where Arlene cleaned.

“Hey there,” Arlene said.

“Hi. You wouldn’t have—” her attention went straight to the fulgurite.

“I see you have discovered an item some might not know exists,” Arlene said in a sing-songy voice.

“I’d like to have them all,” Lalia almost demanded. She slapped down a black credit card made from metal instead of plastic.

“I’ll be right back,” Arlene said and prepared the room to bring in her young patron.

The microphone and small camera attached to Lalia inched closer to her heart which now thundered.

“Why don’t you come back here?” Arlene held the fulgurite behind her back.

“I just want the ones out here. I changed my mind.”

Arlene slinked closer to Arlene.

McCowan signalled for his men to go into the shop.

Just when Arlene was about to strike Lalia, officers trained their weapons on her.

Arlene dropped the piece and it shattered into tiny shards against the floor. The officers slapped the silver Tiffany linke around Arlene’s wrists.

Using advanced technology they found Emory’s body and returned it to his family to be memorialized and properly buried.

On a sunny October day, with a bit of chill in the air, an officer said, “I take great pride in presenting this decoration to Miss Lalia Vance.” The young woman stood with proud solemnity remembering Emory.

Horror
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About the Creator

Skyler Saunders

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