Essay On The Crystal Ball

Improved Essays
The witch smiles her sweet grin. “Wonderful!” She rises from her chair and grabs a spherical green object from a nearby shelf. She sets it on the table with a thump.
“Is that a crystal ball?” Will asks. The sound of his voice sends my heart into a downward spiral. Heat rises up my spine. Whatever is in the air in this place, it’s making my emotions go haywire.
The crystal ball suddenly sparks into a cloud of green, producing sparkles within it. The woman laughs at the sight. “So much attraction! I’ve never witnessed the crystals igniting so fiercely before, darlings.”
I shy away from Will, unable to face him. The crystals settle in the bottom of the sphere.
“Exactly!” the woman say for the twelfth time. “Give me your hands, both of you! Quickly!”
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At this point I don’t bother to question her motives. This is so impossible and crazy I have no words. Heck, I can’t even look at Will in the eyes.
The woman takes each of our hands in her hands and moves them towards the crystal ball. The glitter resurrects its activity, swirling and churning wildly in its contained circle. Smoke that smells like warm cinnamon begins to rise from the ball.
My palm touches the crystal ball. I feel the buzzing of sparkles and warmth of the movement. The room becomes smokier, completely blocking everything and everyone from sight. All I sense is the warm glass and the scent of Will, that addicting warm cinnamon.
The crystal ball activates more and more. The smooth glass heats up, each little sparkle tapping against the glass so anxious to escape.
“Once upon now!” the woman shouts.
Green sparkles explode against my hand, zooming through the smoke. I close my eyes and scream. Jabs of the glitter melts away quickly like droplets of water on my
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“Hey, they match your suit perfectly, Frog Boy.”
We look at each other, smiling and thinking about how we even got here. The fairy lights around the gazebo brighten his eyes, causing them to twinkle.
“Let’s try this again?” Will asks.
“Of course,” I say. We step out of the gazebo, and Will reaches into a nearby bush to pick out his hidden corsage for me. I brush against him and reach around his arm, pulling a matching green boutonniere.
“Wouldn’t want to forget this again,” I say, wiggling the pinned flowers in front of his eyes. “Prom’s bisected flower, right?”
Will’s eyes widen at the sight of the flower in my hand. “I can’t believe I forgot.”
The pull of his voice draws us closer together. Slowly my hand glides closer to his until our palms nestle together. The warmth of his hand confronts me against the slightly cool air around us.
Will plays with our hands, bowing his forehead towards me. With a soft pull, he guides me up the steps of the gazebo again. I lift my blue dress with my free hand and let it fall over my legs once we reach the center of our hideaway. The boards creak under our feet.
“Finley,” Will says. His eyes stay ducked out of view, focused on our hands as he faces me. With a touch lighter than flower petals, he slips the corsage slowly onto my wrist. “Finley, Finley,

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