#FlashFictionMagic: Kaleidoscope

“Let me have another turn.” Sorcha, lying beside Rigel at the edge of the lake, put her hand out for the kaleidoscope. 

“Just a minute.” His right eye was pressed to the eyepiece, and Sorcha imagined the dancing fairies and blooming flowers he was seeing. Uncle Phobus had given Rigel a lot of amazing magical objects, but Sorcha liked this one best. 

“Come on, you’re hogging it!” Sorcha poked Rigel in the side where she knew he was most ticklish. When he went to block her fingers, Sorcha grabbed the kaleidoscope and rolled onto her stomach. 

Peering into the eyepiece, Sorcha took in the dreamlike images of gorgeous little sprites in daffodil crowns and clover kilts and of shimmering beetles with shells like stained glass. These beautiful scenes of perpetual summer helped her forget that soon their island would be separated from the mainland by a solid sheet of ice, and that when the lake thawed, she and Rigel would be leaving school, and who knew what would become of them then.

Beside her, Rigel said, “We need to head back soon. If the street lamps are on before you’re home again, your mother will kill us.” 

Sorcha murmured her agreement, and told herself it was time to go, and yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to relinquish the enchanted toy. As she gently rotated the tube, hoping for more beauty and more contentment, the images began to subtly change. A red fog seeped in from the edges of her vision, and the fairy dances slowed under the weight of some invisible force. One by one, the flowers in the foreground wilted,  revealing the hunched and shriveled body of a small red nymph lying on the ground. It opened its mouth, bearing crooked yellow fangs, then turned to look directly at Sorcha. She gasped and pitched the kaleidoscope into the grass.

“Careful!” Rigel retrieved the kaleidoscope before it could roll into the water, and he stowed it in his pocket, then turned back to offer Sorcha a hand. When his eyes met Sorcha’s, his expression changed instantly “Hey, you okay?” 

“Sorry.” Sorcha hesitated for a moment, shaking her head to banish the disturbing image of that fearsome nymph. “Yeah. Just thinking about all the housework I’ll be doing if we don’t get a move on.” She got to her feet, smoothing down her blouse and skirt. 

The ease of the lie startled her. She hadn’t planned to be dishonest; it was simply her first instinct. She told herself she just didn’t want Rigel to worry, or to stop sharing his family’s magic with her, that he was overprotective, and she should easily be able to get over being spooked by a silly, impractical magical item. 

But on the journey home in the skiff, even snuggled against Rigel’s side, she couldn’t shake the chill she’d felt when she realized how much the sneering, wicked creature that showed such malice toward her resembled Rigel’s favorite uncle.