The Silver Coin

The tap came at the front door. The old clock over the wall by the mahogany door ticked nine. The coin collector tramped over to the door. “Who is it?” his loud and annoying voice came out as he palmed the doorknob.

The white spiral fluorescent bulb shone a bright light down at a worn-out figure of a stranger. The face was pale and almost rumpled. He wore an unkempt gray long-sleeve and dark long pants.

The stranger bowed slightly. “Good evening, Señor. They say you’re a coin collector.” His airy tone surpassed the song of cicadas that flew about the house.

“It’s too late! Just come back tomorrow!” snarled the irritated coin collector. He thrust the door abruptly, erasing the stranger’s shadow on the ground.

The stranger flattened his hand on the door before it fully obstructs his view of the light inside.

“Wait, Señor!” cried the stranger. “I’ll pay any amount for a silver coin.”

The coin collector became a tamed lion. He let the door swung open. He looked at the stranger interestedly, ran his eyes along the bony built, and locked them into the stranger’s pleading brown eyes. “True, what I’ve heard?” He flashed his eyes.

The stranger nodded slowly.

“Come on in, come on in.” The coin collector excitedly courted his instant visitor into the study table. He pulled out a burnished wooden stool under and shoved it, almost hitting the trembling knees of the stranger. “Have a seat.”

The weary stranger sat down on the stool. His back slumped like a seahorse tail. “I’m looking for a silver coin.”

The coin collector got onto another stool and settled down in front of him. “How old is this coin?”

“Thousands of years old.”

The coin collector gaped. He suddenly chortled. It echoed around the house, and it took a while before fading away. “I don’t have collection older than two centuries. You cannot find a silver coin as antique as that these days.”

The stranger stared at him, knitting. “Let me look at your collection, please, Señor.”

The coin collector got up and ambled to the cabinet far behind the long sofa chair that faced the door. He bent and slid the glass door opened. He pulled out a two-by-one foot tin box from inside of it. His hand clutched the box’s two-inch thickness. He then tripped the smooth dining floor like a harlequin back to the stranger who was looking around, examining the house's luxurious furnishings.

“My collection,” he said proudly as he set the tin box on the table. He sat down and thumbed the lid off the tin box. The clank registered in the stranger’s ears. The light overhead struck the coins, making them glitter upon the stranger’s sunken eyes. The brilliant reflection of the coins outshone the fluorescent light. The coins sparkled like the stars in the night. They were of various classes that came from different ages.

The coins were orderly arranged inside the box according to age. The box had 18 equivalent small square compartments, all contained coins. On the sides of the compartments, the part which was near the stranger was engravings. They were the texts of the years when the coins had been minted and passed through different hands. The latest coins were at the first compartment in the upper left corner. The engraving was 1990-2000. The stranger, upon seeing them, assumed the coins in that compartment were the last type that had met its disuse. The compartment in the lower right corner of the box bore the years 1800-1830. The coins in it were chipped off, stained with silver rust, and damaged.

The stranger picked out the oldest ones. His shaking fingers held it delicately. He held it up. His prying eyes moved along with it. He stopped at the level of the coin collector’s eyes. And he looked at his host.

“You want that?” the coin collector cracked. “Fifty thousand pesos.” His greedy blood raced down his spine.

The stranger shook his head. He promptly put the coin back into its compartment. He ran over his eyes onto other compartments. He knew the silver coin he was looking for was not there. “It’s not here.”

“How sure are you? You can examine it one by one.” The coin collector could not help but force himself to do the inspecting. His hands went through the compartments and held a few coins. He lifted them to him. He held one silver coin and said vigorously, “What about this?”

The stranger shook his head again.

In haste, the coin collector rummaged over the small compartments and chose another coin. “I think this is what you’re looking for.”

“No need to do that, Señor.” The stranger rose to his feet. “It’s not here.” He turned and took his farewell steps.

“Wait!” The coin collector got up. “What’s in this damn thing that you wound up here this late time of the night?”

He did not turn back, he just spoke. “It’s precious.”

“These are precious too.” He laid open his arms in the air, pointing to the coins, though his lone audience was not looking at him.

The stranger said, “I apologize for disturbing you, Señor.” Then he walked over to the door.

“Wait, pal!” the coin collector hollered. “I need to talk to you for a few moments before you leave.”

The stranger did not resist his invitation. He faced him like the Eiffel Tower. “What’s the use of talk, Señor? You don’t have what I’m looking for.”

“Come. We’ll talk about finding it.” He sprinted off to the luxurious sofa. “Here,” he tapped the sofa’s cushioned back, “you can sit here.”

The stranger did not turn down the offer. He felt the avaricious motive of the coin collector. He thought of it as a chance of finding the coin sooner, with minimal effort.

They were both seated on the sofa, padded with a flowery-designed quilt. The stranger was sitting in a solo chair, elbows on laps. The coin collector was lounging comfortably on the long sofa set across his mysterious visitor.

“What’s with this coin, pal?” began the coin collector.

“I’m afraid you would not believe me,” replied the stranger softly.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

The stranger looked off at the beautifully furnished kitchen behind his host. In a moment, he parted his lips. “The silver coin is the evilest thing on Earth.”

The coin collector beamed with a doubtful smile.

The stranger looked at him authoritatively. “Please listen to me before you decide to believe in my story.”

The host’s face settled into a calm lake.

“I’m here to find this silver coin and take it back to where it must belong,” he paused, “in the Deepest Deeps.”

“What do you mean? I don’t get it.” The host leaned forward on his lap.

“My father found this silver coin in Israel in the year 970 A. D.”

There was a loud laugh. “Are you kidding?” The laugh continued raucously.

“I am not compelling you to believe me. If you don’t want to listen and you just laugh, I’d better leave now.” It was a prudent statement.

The almost-ridicule act settled down. “Alright, alright. I’ll listen. Hurry. We still need to talk about how much you’ll pay me if I find this coin. Have you got the money?” The coin collector talked rapidly.

“Don’t worry, Señor, about the payment. And don’t rush me.”

The coin collector shrugged. His guest carried on his account in slow pacing.

“Someone in my world stole this silver coin. He brought it back here in your world. Whoever has owned it now has surely done a lot of wicked things. Before my father found it and locked it up in the Deepest Deeps, this thing had made people kill their brothers, begun wars, exploited children and women, and ruined your world. Its evil past has influenced its possessors, letting them do the same despicable things its past possessors did.”

The coin collector’s countenance showed incredulity. But behind it, consternation built up.

“As I’ve said, I’ve been looking for it since the early 20th century.” The stranger’s airy voice had caused a creepy feeling to his host. “I don’t intend to scare you, Señor,” he said calmly.

“I’m afraid we won’t find it,” said the coin collector seriously.

“We must find it. It will spread more dark power and cause more death to humanity.” The stranger moved onward from his chair to the table to reach out to the other’s now quivering hands.

The coin collector felt the warmth of the stranger’s callous hands.

Then, there was a sudden blackout in the coin collector’s vision. When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a dusty and rocky surface.

Before his eyes, upon the ground, was a silver coin. Its relief figure slowly came into view as he lifted his head. Its silver color glittered upon the mid-morning sun. By the silver coin was a brown pouch partly open. It had other silver coins in it. A few steps off his dusted face, droplets of water drenched the parched ground. His eyes sought from where the droplets came. He squinted as he saw sandaled feet in the air. He rolled up his eyes further and spotted a stream of water ran down the legs. A man in a brown gown, dangling dead. The man’s neck had been twisted by the rope which was tied up on the adamant branch of a single tree in that so much isolated a place. His surging eyes were gazing down at the silver coin.

Aghast, the coin collector shut his eyes off. Then he saw deep black.

In a minute, when he opened his eyes, he still sat on the sofa. In front of him, over the glass table, was a white quill. Across from him, standing boldly, was the stranger who had metamorphosed into a wonderful winged being. The stranger’s face was now cherry-apple. His then-black hair was now curly blonde. Something had wiped out his weary figure. He was now full of vigor, enthusiasm, and life. At his back were great white wings, with golden brims, hung like white sails of a ship in the sea. He spoke up in a deep and clear tone. “Help me find the silver coin.”

The stupefied coin collector took no move. His eyes were fastened to the great white wings which whirred as he moved. “What? And who are you?” he stammered.

“I’m one of the protectors of the Deepest Deeps.” The winged man fanned his wings. The slight wind it produced fondled the coin collector’s perspiring forehead. The wings slowly bent, compressed at a time, and sunk into his back. He floated towards the door, opened it, went out, and vanished in the dark, cold night.

The coin collector was left alone on the sofa, frozen to paralysis.