The Coin

Blues, purples, oranges, and reds paint the sky. The waves of the ocean bring in the tide while the moon brings in the evening. Besides the ocean, waves, and the wind, the beach is hauntingly silent. I am the only one crazy enough to be out here in this cutting chill. My hand moves over my canvas as I capture the tones of the sky that meet the horizon. Paint drips down my brush, to my fingers, then down my forearms as I focus on one minute detail. The waves have to be just right for me. I become a bit of a stickler for water details when I paint them.

Usually, I’d have to preserve my paint. The good oil paint isn’t cheap, and doesn’t last long. However, it is a celebration today. I was able to buy a whole new set of paints. The alcoholic, abusive mother I suffered under for so long has finally kicked the bucket. I was already in a great mood. Yet, it lifted higher while I was cleaning out her closet. In a box, shoved to the very back of her closet under her shoes, filled to the brim, was 20,000 dollars. I guess she was saving it up for a rainy day. Thank God her rainy day didn’t come before her demise. I smile just thinking about it as I swiped paint into my canvas with my new and shiny paint brush.

Tilting my head to the side as I dab at the sea foam I’ve created on the canvas, my eye catches a glare. It was a sharp shine. Whatever it was caught the fading light of the sun just right. Blinking to hide my eye from the harsh flare, I place my brush down to scan the sand of the beach. Blinking almost like a beacon I see it in the distance. A bit of a ways down from where I sat.

Moving my palette from my lap, I make my way down the small slope of sand heading to the rising waves. A small weight landed at the base of my gut. The closer I got to the flashing object the heavier the feeling became. I stop my stride to look back at my setup. ‘Should I check this out?’ I ask myself. Taking a deep breath I shake my head feeling silly and move my legs to minimize the distance between me and the object.

The closer I got to it, the more my need for it grew. Like a siren to a sailor, I throw caution to the wind and squat to dig through the sand. I move the sand away from a small leather bound, black book, wrapped closed by a leather string. Sticking out of the book was a gold coin. It looked to be used as a bookmark. I unravel the book from the dark leather string and shake it out into my hand. The coin flops out into my palm and I begin to flip it over. It had some good weight behind it.

I wonder how much I could get for it. Pocketing the coin, I toss the black book back into the sand. As I make my way back to my painting, a harsh wind picks up. My paints and canvas come tumbling to the sand.

“Dang it!” I growl as I pick up my pace into a jog. I reach my things and begin to pack them away. ‘So much for painting the beach today,’ I think as I pick up my painting to see it covered in sand. After wrapping my painting, I pack the rest of my things up and begin my trek home.

I didn’t live too far from the beach. I was home within 30 minutes. Once inside, I drop my bag to the floor, on the side of the door before turning the lights on. The house was quiet and clean. Just the way I liked it. The horrendous woman who birthed me loved the total opposite. I shut the door and unravel my ruined painting. I sigh and still myself to look at it. Acceptance of the once beautiful horizon I painted, now ruined, washing over me before I held it up to look at it.

The painting wasn’t covered in sand like I thought it would be. Instead the painting was picture perfect. Everything I painted was as it was, except for an added detail I did not paint. In the corner was a figure in shadow. It looked to be a man with a scarf. His scarf blowing in the wind while his shaded hand held up a small, round, golden object.

My blood ran cold as my quivering hand reached into my pocket pulling out the coin I found. I shakily held it up to the picture. The small coin in my painting was the exact replica of the coin in my hand. Cold fear washed over me as the light I was standing under shorted out.

Darkness surrounded me. A cold hand creeped along my shoulder and rotten breath filled my ear. “Thank you,” A torturous, melodic voice spoke. The air from my lungs left me before I could draw on it to scream. A cold vibration started at my toes as my bones began to bend awkwardly. The sound of pages fluttering rang through my ears. Looking down the darkness that surrounded me deepened into everlasting nothingness. I fell. As my arms reached for purchase, I could see the figure above me getting further and further away as I fell into shadows. The pages above me flutter over like a closing book.

“The one who accepts the gold will open the fold. The curse within will transfer again.” Its whispers surrounding me. The breath I lost finds me as I open my mouth to cry out but am silenced by darkness. I feel a rope being wrapped around me as if I myself am being bound like a book and not this prison. As I drift in this unending darkness I can feel the cold, hard gold of the cursed coin pressing into my hand.