The Crystal Store

An exorcism story

• The beads of the Unakite bracelet that I had purchased a week earlier were wearing down, revealing underneath what seemed to be clear plastic. What once posed as small, polished stones or “Crystals”, now looked like nothing more than painted, plastic balls.  The bracelet was one of the less pretty, less “crystal-y” ones that I wore in bunches, dangling from my skinny wrists, not sparkly or shimmery, but dull and earthy. For this reason, it is unlikely that I would have chosen it myself. The tiny, blonde, fairy-girl at the Crystal Store had a way of sizing me up, and telling me exactly what I needed based on her reading of my energy.  “Unakite! For sure.” She said as she slid the beads onto my arm, where it met all the other beads with a satisfying, clicking sound. To be fair, I had asked her, “What do I need?” searching, desperate for anyone to tell me what I might do to feel better. Now, as I looked at the fake bracelet, I felt rage boiling up within me. I couldn’t remember what the…