He looked at her from behind his thick glasses and white beard, she sat on his lap and the chest lay before them. He ran his fingers over chest, smiling. "Vicky, do you see this? This is a language of oriental mysteries. Of men in silk robes and strange antiquities. They speak with sharp tongues and their words are drawn like pictures" he explained with such a faraway look, "Oh Vicky, you should see their treasures! The whitest porcelain you'd ever see, encrusted with gems you could only dream of! Blue, red, green, every colour imaginable!" her father let her look closely as he watched from his big armchair, smiling at her curiousity.
Victoria held the broken lock in her hand, she twisted it and unlacthed the lid. The contents of the precious trunk shone in the dark room, there it was. The ball made of pure crystal, with voices that could tell the future. She held it in her palm. waiting for a sign. Nothing. She shook the fragile ball, an army of voices moaned inside the sphere.
"Show me the truth" She told it.She stared into its dark clouds, and no doubt, they were swirling in the small, trapped atmosphere. They navy mist started turning into a pink haze and a hollow, shrill voice spoke from it.
"Your dreams are more than pictures in your mind. Your dreams have a purpose, a destiny. Your dreams do not lie to you, what you see is what will happen." it sang.
Victoria watched, gutted. Her anger boiling under skin. The smoke inside the ball danced into pink and then turned into the darkest shade of the night sky.