Instinctively he caught the tree of crystals that was as big as his head.Several branched cracked off. He placed the main bunch on the ground, squatted down and picked up one of the broken pieces that was about 15cm long and 2cm square. He held it near the lantern and watched as the dark green colour lightened and took on a brightness of its own.Fascinated he watched as it changed to become pale yellow and more translucent. As he moved it in the light of his oil lantern, he accidentally touched the metal lantern with his other hand. He yelped in pain and dropped the crystal as he shook his hands.“Buggar me!” he exclaimed, shaking his hands as they still tingled. He bent down and looked at the crystal. It was dull again, but as he watched, it started to lighten again. He then realised that it was sucking up energy from the lamp. He racked his brain as he felt he should know what type of crystal it was. He knew damn well he would be taking some of them with him when he left.He took off. I didn’t need the image in my head of my mother spending hours thinking about my penis. There was something so very wrong about that.Mom obviously had a sit-down with Dad. I mean, Dad had never talked about, well, anything icky. No birds and bees talk, no condom discussion or even joking about girls. Computers? We could talk for hours. Sports? Sure, we could discuss the finer points of Major League Baseball, but nothing even remotely personal had ever been discussed.Yet here was Dad, standing in my doorway and looking like he would rather be diving naked into a swimming pool full of razor blades.“Son, your mother came to me and, well, she told me ... she told me to come and talk to you about your penis.” he stuttered, not meeting my eyes.Jesus. Fucking. Christ.“Dad, do me a favor? Go tell mom we had a good talk and you and I will pretend like this never happened.”“Good talk, son!” he said, beating a retreat down the hallway.I spent the week restricted to the house, and forced to do.
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