Changeable Obsidian

  By Meah  

Chapter 1 - The Statue

It was a Monday morning when Thomas Caldwell missed his train to work for the third time that week. The subway platform was wet from an earlier rain, the tiles slick underfoot, the air carrying that familiar cocktail of damp concrete and exhaust. Thomas stood at the edge, staring down the tracks as if sheer will could summon the next train.

"You're unlucky today," a voice said beside him.

Thomas turned. A man stood to his right — tall, in a beige coat too clean for the weather, holding a black leather satchel. His face was narrow, foxlike, but not unkind. What caught Thomas’s attention most, however, was the small object in his outstretched hand.

A bust — maybe four inches tall, made of something that looked like obsidian or black marble. It was a strange figure with many faces, not quite human, not quite demonic. The statue shimmered subtly, as if the shadows loved it.

"I want to give you this," the stranger said, smiling politely.

Thomas furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Because I give it to someone when it’s time. And it’s your time.” The man looked out over the tracks, calm and unblinking. “You will accept it willingly. And you must understand what it means. If you take it, truly take it, you will enjoy prosperity unmatched. Through your twenties, you will not suffer consequence — not from indulgence, not from missteps. You’ll be powerful, healthy, admired. Everything you do will bloom.”

Thomas laughed a little. “Right. And the catch?”

The man nodded once. “At thirty, the statue takes. It begins collecting the price. And it does so through the lens of the seven sins — gluttony, lust, envy, wrath, greed, sloth, and pride. It does not forget.”

Thomas looked at the little bust. “What if I throw it away?”

“You can’t,” the man replied. “It returns. It stays with you until you pass it on — the same way you received it. Willingly given. Willingly taken.”

Thomas hesitated. “You’re serious?”

“As death.”

A strange vibration passed through Thomas’s chest — like a tuning fork struck within his ribcage. He didn’t know why, but he felt his hand reach for the statue.

“I’ll take it,” he said, half-smirking. “But only because it’s weird and I’m curious.”

The man bowed slightly, then stepped back. “Then it’s done.”

And without another word, the stranger turned and walked calmly away, vanishing into the crowd. Thomas stared after him, then looked at the bust. It felt warm in his hand.

By the end of that day, he felt it.

His headache vanished. His boss emailed him out of the blue, praising his recent sales numbers and offering him a raise. On his way home, two women smiled at him on the sidewalk. At the gym, he lifted heavier than usual, barely breaking a sweat. He caught his reflection in the mirror and for the first time in years thought, Damn, I look good.

That night, he had sex — unexpectedly, passionately — with someone who had once called him “too vanilla.”

And as he drifted to sleep, the bust sat quietly on his nightstand.

Its many faces were smiling.
4 chapters, created 3 weeks , updated 2 weeks
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Comments

Belyn 1 week
Wow. Very different type of story but I enjoyed it a lot. You have a lot of talent my friend
Kyeskrid1992 2 weeks
Fun concept