The whole walk home, my mind was a confused mess. The previous day, my life had seemed kinda boring, but today? It was a combination of unreal and mysterious. Mysterious because of Lucy's pushy suggestions and unwanted stage management, and also because of a chance meeting with a new classmate that made my emotions dance like a marionette after mere seconds of knowing him. Unreal because of that one word and, not least of all, the dream that preceded it all.

The dream.

I still couldn't wrap my head around it. What did it mean? What was that ... thing ... that spoke to me? It was definitely supernatural and I had no doubt that it was real, but I wanted some clue to explain all this.

Something to piece it together.

There was a note stuck to the fridge from my mother. Pulling it free, I read it as I walked to my room to dump school stuff, and nearly tripped over the box sitting outside my door.

Hi honey. I'll be back around 9.30 tonight. Left some ravioli to reheat for your dinner. If you don't have any homework, there's a box of your grandfather's things outside your room. It was hidden away in the attic and it must have been sitting there since the lawyers wrapped up his estate when you were little. I know you don't have many memories of him, so I want you to have a look and see if there's anything you might want to keep. I'll be doing a proper clean-out this weekend. Have a good day and don't do anything silly. Love, mom. xoxo

Curious to see what was in it and glad to have something to temporarily take my mind off the day's events, I threw my bag to the floor and plopped down on the bed, opening up the storage container. The inside was dusty, my mother apparently never having opened it, or at least not for a long time. There were a bunch of old photos of my grandfather with her when she was a lot younger, including one when she was pregnant with me, and more of him in Asia, a couple of decades ago. Also, there were a number of papers, most of which seemed to be copies of some kind of official documents used in his work. With those papers were several diaries; undecorated, with plain leather covers and tightly bound. Lastly, there was another smaller shallow wooden box with a carved hinged lid on it. I cracked it open, carefully, and peered inside.

Oh, wow.

It contained an assortment of rocks and stones from all over the world. I knew that my grandfather was a geologist from my own scattered memories and what my mother told me, but here was concrete proof. Each item was tagged and labelled with a paper slip attached by string, that listed a date and location. All were precious stones of some kind, of varying quality and size, though most were pebbles or small enough to fit inside a clenched fist. Some had no more than flecks of colour or veins inside actual rock, while others were much more filled out, either partially or nearly completely pure.

Out of the collection, the two most noteworthy were also the largest by far. One was smooth on the surface, close to flat but with a slight convex curve. Almost like a polished roof tile but smaller, it was maybe four inches long and three wide, and less than half an inch thick. Pale sky blue and slightly translucent, the stone had a gorgeous vibrant colour, and although it was the only one that didn't have a label attached, I knew enough to make an educated guess that it was probably a sapphire.

The other had an uneven surface and was a long thin shape. The edges were rough, like it had been a part of a bigger formation before being broken off. Angular ridges protruded along the length of it, and it was about five inches long and one in diameter, a long asymmetrical splinter that was nearly sharp enough to cut the skin. More opaque than the sapphire, it was a rich bloody red. This one did have a label, and it said 'aluminium oxide, chromium repetition (red corundum/ruby) -- Thailand, July 2009'.

It's beautiful.

I stared at it, the way the light glanced off the surface and was highlighting the planes and facets of the gemstone's odd shape. It wasn't uniform or perfectly clear like a gem you could find in a ring or necklace, but the lack of imperfections in the stone itself and the strength of the colour was mesmerising and I found myself turning it over and over in my hands.

If this was given the right treatment by a professional, I bet it could be worth a lot of money.

BZZZZZT.

The buzz of my phone vibrating snapped me out of it. A glance told me all I needed to know. Ugh. She just won't fucking quit. I didn't want to read her texts or hear whatever stupid justification she was going to make, so I turned the phone off and dumped it on the nightstand. Slumping back on the bed, I stared at the ceiling and gritted my teeth. What if she decides to come here because I'm not texting back? She'd probably do something like that.

I didn't want to speak to anyone. I wanted to be left alone, so I could clear my head.

I wanted to understand.

It took all of ten seconds to make my decision. Sitting, I emptied my bag of its academia-related contents and put the collection box in it, along with my MP3 player, a blanket and an unfinished novel. Then it was to the kitchen, grabbing an apple and a bag of potato chips, and following that, out the door.

Our town, Mirrorvale, wasn't really small, but our house happened to be on a bordering side right next to the hills that half surrounded the suburban area. Crossing the back yard and over the boundary fence of our property, it was onto public council land, an undeveloped stretch of grass about the length of a soccer field. After that was a tiny drainage creek, not more than a dribble of murky swampy water, and then the thick brush and thin ranging trees that cluttered the lower slopes.

I had explored this area a few times before and never once run into any people. The forest wasn't really good for hiking or anything much; it was very closed in, the branches were scratchy and tangled and the ground could get slippery and muddy in the winter. Nobody was going to come find me, and that suited perfectly. Still, I was looking for a particular place to sit and contemplate for a while, and I knew that there was more than just trees.

Further up, there were several limestone rock cliffs, well hidden under the forest growth. Some of them had cracks in them and a couple had more than that; full limestone caves, disappearing into the hillside. The smallest were only big enough to crawl into, but the largest had enough space to fit a modest-size truck inside. It was this one that I was searching for, and once I found it, I retreated back until I saw a shelf elevated high enough to sit on, laid down the folded blanket as a cushion and sat back, leaning against the cave wall.

Sunshine filtered in from outside, and there was still plenty of light though I was a few feet back from the entrance. Earbuds went in, the MP3 player was turned on, and the apple retrieved. I bit into it, glancing around my shelter. The floor, walls and roof were fairly flat, with only a couple of little cracks making inroads into the rock here and there. A few stalactites clung to the ceiling, though these caves had long ago dried out and the water formations were small and stunted. A half dozen little shelves, like the one I was sitting on, poked from the walls, and close by my feet was a scratchy depression filled with a few oval-shaped rock bubbles, in appearance a bit like the surface of a geyser or mud pool, only frozen into immovable stone.

I balanced my backpack upright on the ground and pulled out the novel and the box. This was my own little private spot that no-one knew about, and I was glad I had never shared it. Not that I was expecting to use it to escape from my best friend, or anyone else for that matter, but I definitely needed some solitude.

A chance to think.

The dream.

The voice.

The new boy.

Fire.

What does all this mean? Still leaning back against the wall, I idly opened up the box and gazed at the contents as I thought over my day. Grey, brown, white, orange, green; muted layers, stripes, dots and splotches of colour and texture. Common stones, rare stones, precious stones.

Blue and red.

Turning the ruby splinter over and over in my fingers, tracing the irregular surface and feeling the solid hardness of it, I shut my eyes and sighed. I had the impression that someone was messing with me somehow, but nothing about my day had seemed orchestrated or fake.

I just want to know what the fuck is going on.

What explanation could there be? Where did this come from? I was still pondering those questions and more besides, the sliver of precious stone in my hand, my mind churning over what was probable and possible, when the fatigue and my lack of rest began to finally take hold. Completely without meaning to, and with the box in my lap and ruby in hand, I relaxed against the cool limestone wall of the cave and in moments, fell asleep.