The Locket
By: Melanie Billings
Diane was miserable,
lonely. Her parents seldom had time for her and when they did, the time spent was unpleasant. Diane’s social life wasn’t too cool either; she’d always been the “loner” in high school. College was worse. It felt like high school all over again, and her hopes of finding a circle of friends had evaporated on the very first day.
Somehow, Diane had gotten through the two years at Portley Community College. The transfer to Fairview College went smoothly credit-wise, but even after the first week, the only person who had even spoken to her was Amanda Keppler.
Amanda had a room in the same building as Diane, just down the hall from her. Amanda was okay, but a little too nerdy for Diane’s taste. There didn’t seem to be much they had in common, so Diane kept interactions to a minimum.
Ever since she had transferred to Fairview College from Portley Community College, she had kept pretty much to herself. The only real friend she had was Breasal, and sometimes she wondered how much of a friend he really was.
She’d met him on one of her loneliest days. Diane had just come from eating lunch by herself, in the typical corner of the dining hall. She was walking back to her dorm, irritated by all the smiling, laughing student groups she passed. Breasal seemed to materialize beside her. He had smiled and walked unspeaking all the way back to her dorm with her.
After that first time, he always came to see her late at night and was gone before the sun arose. Breasal had a dark sort of humor, but seemed harmless enough. The surprising thing was how much he already knew about her problems. Breasal offered a simple solution, so simple that Diane figured only a fool would pass it up.
A small golden chain with a tiny locket was his gift to her. Breasal promised that only this could cure her loneliness. All she must do is rub the locket between her thumb and forefinger and he would come to her and the loneliness would be gone.
The golden chain hung down to her waist and each time she rubbed the locket, the chain would shrink slightly in size. Even though she noticed the change in length, Diane was unconcerned.
One day, looking in the mirror, Diane noticed how short the chain had become. The locket rested upon the center of her clavicle. In desperation, she searched for a clasp; there was none. She pulled at the locket, but nothing happened. In a panic, Diane rubbed the locket. The chain closed upon the soft skin of her neck.
There was a knock at the door. Breasal entered.
“Brea, what’s going on? Why can’t I get this thing off?” Diane frantically pointed to the locket.
“I see no problem. It becomes you well,” Breasal’s eyes gleamed with a hint of red. Diane didn’t like this at all.
“Brea, can you please help me get this off? Your joking is starting to worry me.” Diane smiled and feinted a punch toward her friend.
“Sorry, kid. There’s only one way that thing’s coming off.”
Diane gasped. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what Breasal was saying. Did he really mean what she thought he meant? Death?
Breasal smiled wickedly, as if he could read her rampaging thoughts. He turned and exited, chuckling to himself. The door closing echoed the premonition of a coffin slam.
The tears began to streak down Diane’s face. She was in serious trouble and her only friend had refused to help—had insinuated something so sinister—Diane pushed the thought away. She fell on her bed and buried her face in a pillow. The sobs came pouring out like rain. The chain at her throat burned.
“Diane?” A concerned voice from the hallway behind her closed door brought Diane’s head up sharply. “It’s Amanda. Are you okay? Can I do something to help?” Amanda slowly opened the door and walked in. She sat tentatively on the edge of Diane’s bed, nervously pushing her glasses up higher on her nose.
“No! Just go away.” Diane sobbed, turning to face the wall.
“Okay. If you need anything, please call me, ’kay?” Amanda hopped off the bed and walked back to the door, glancing at Diane from over her shoulder. She opened the door and took a hesitant step.
“Wait! Please—” Diane jumped up from her bed. “I need—someone...please....”
Amanda shut the door and came to sit on Diane’s bed while Diane poured out her story.
“You’re sure there’s no way to get that off?” Amanda peered at the chain over her horn-rimmed glasses.
“Yes,” Diane caught a sob before it escaped, “I’ve tried everything. Whenever I touch the locket, it shrinks.” The tears began to roll down her swollen face again. Amanda produced a handful of tissues from her pants pocket.
“There’s something really weird about all this,” Amanda commented. “I’d like to try something.” Diane held her breath. “Can I pray for you?”
Diane exhaled sharply. “Do you really think that would help?” There was no disguising the sarcasm that laced her words.
“Yup, but only if you’re open to it,” Amanda said seriously, locking gazes with Diane. Diane’s irritation melted. Amanda really believed what she was saying.
“Okay, I’ll try anything,” Diane consented, not sure she could really go along with that sort of thing.
Amanda began to pray.
“Lord God, I just thank You for the chance to help Diane. Lord, You’ve seen me through so many struggles, things I never thought I would ever get through. Please show Diane that You are here to help her, too. Jesus, may Your name be glorified in this room tonight. In Your name I pray, Amen.”
Amanda looked up at Diane and grinned.
“Now you’re going to get that chain off.”
“How?” Diane actually felt better about the overall situation, but the chain was really starting to hurt.
“All you have to do is ask the Lord Jesus Christ to free you, and if you allow yourself to truly believe, He will.” With that, Amanda left Diane’s room.
Alone once more, Diane went to the mirror. The chain was irritating her neck; welts appeared here and there alongside the chain. The gleaming gold coating that had sparkled so enticingly against her skin was gone. The chain was black as oil and the locket a blood red.
Diane was frightened. What could she do? Her certain death loomed as a ravenous beast over a wounded animal. She placed her hands on either side of the mirror and leaned forward, her forehead resting on the cool glass. Diane squeezed her eyes shut.
“Lord Jesus Christ, I don’t know You,” she prayed, “but I need help. I’m scared.” The door opened and slammed shut again.
“Diane.” It was the familiar voice Diane had no desire to ever hear again. Breasal.
She whirled around to face the intruder. “Go away,” Diane snarled. Angry tears threatened to spill down her swollen cheeks.
“No one can help you.” In response, the chain began to choke her.
Diane gasped for air; her fingertips, tearing at the chain, bled.
Breasal smiled wickedly; a bead of saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
Diane was getting dizzy. The room began to spin. She fought for air. The tightening chain was a hangman’s noose.
“Please, Jesus, free...me...,” her raspy voice slowly faded into the blackness that fell like a fist upon her head.
Somewhere in the darkness, Diane heard a monstrous scream that froze her to the bone. Her eyes snapped open. She took a deep breath. Gradually, the room took on its proper shape and position. She pulled herself to her knees.
The chain lay, broken in two, upon the floor next to where she had fallen. Both the locket and Breasal were gone.
Diane cried out her thanks to her new friend and ran out the door to find Amanda.
}
~~~~~ <~
}
BIO
After four years at Roberts Wesleyan College, Melanie graduated in 1997 with a bachelor’s degree in her double major of English and Communication. Marriage and becoming a mother put her dream of being a full-time writer on hold. In order to keep up with all things written, Melanie has dabbled joyfully in freelance editing and proofreading work over the years. This dabbling has given her new excitement over the prospect of seeing her own writings published. She has the love and encouragement of her husband and two boys, and hopes to extend that love and encouragement to everyone around her. Melanie has a compilation of poetry, Climbing the Mountain: Inspirational Christian Poetry, available from Whiskey Creek Press (www.whiskeycreekpress.com) in both electronic and paperback format.
