The Collector of Beautiful Things

Michael Hutchens had come to Sheffield to see the famous Winchester Diamond, also known to the world as the God’s Eye.

He’d waited eight hours and stood in a mile-long line. He’d had run-ins with various folk. Odd people, obnoxious people, strange individuals—annoying folk.

Then he’d made it to the front of the line and saw the Winchester Diamond; also called the “God’s Eye; it had the power to change people’s lives. He’d seen it for only second, but had not notice anything particular about his life.

Then he hit his head on a stanchion. The security brought him back to see the manager of the store.

***

A long mane of curly red hair hid a woman’s face. She sat at a desk too busy and unwilling to let go of what she was reading. She reluctantly looked up through the veil of red hair and saw Micheal. He greeted her. His voice was friendly. Pleasant. He smiled. He laughed. He was too friendly. He was too pleasant. His voice was too melodic, and he smiled too much for a normal greeting.

She noticed it.

She noticed everything about him—his eyes, his hair, his height, his age, his his manhood, the size of his wallet—she was not impressed.

“Mr. Hutchens,”

“Call me Michael...”

“Mr. Hutchens, do you need medical care? I can call a doctor for you,” the woman said.

“I’m alright. I’ve been hit harder. I have two brothers that used to use my head as a football. They even left a dent on the side of my head. That’s why I keep my hair long.”

Michael read the woman’s name tag.

“Saphire ... that’s a fitting name—considering you work in a jewelry store,” Micheal said, which Saphire took as small talk. She wanted no part of it. She saw Michael’s eyes searching for hers. She avoided his gaze. If she did happen to catch his eyes, she gave him an annoyed look. She was a beautiful woman. Men came on to her all the time. She knew the effect she had on them, and she was in no mood to play the game.

Michael, on the other hand, noticed that Sapphire looked unhappy. In fact, her unhappiness had an air of misery, which was strange considering how beautiful she was. It’s no secret that beautiful people have great lives. Being beautiful is better than winning the lottery. As beautiful as Sapphire was, she should have been bouncing off the walls with bliss. Something was a miss.

—Look at her, Mike. She’s a dream, a wet one. If only life could be like them movies where the woman locks the door, lets her hair down, then sits on a desk with her crotch at eye level. What do you think, Mike? G-string or no undies at all? — said the voice in Michael’s head. His inner voice had a way of explaining things with a wit that was at times as sharp as a switchblade knife.

“That’s quite a security system you got out there,” Michael said.

“Just sign this waiver, Mr. Hutchens, and we’ll get you on your way,” Saphire said, bothered and frustrated; she couldn’t wait for Michael to leave.

“What’s that, you say? A waiver?” Michael was feeling the sting of being rushed out the door by the mechanical woman. He wondered if there was a heart inside the shell. Was she even human?

— Forget it, Mike, she’s as cold as ice. There’s no fire hot enough to heat up them bones.

“This is a waiver saying that you’re okay, and you’re not holding us responsible for any injuries,” Saphire said.

“And if I don’t sign?” said Michael.

“Then we’re basically at your mercy, Mr. Hutchens. We will live in fear and tremble at the thought of you taking us to court and suing us for all we have,” said Saphire.

“Really?”

“No, I was bluffing, Mr. Hutchens. Honestly, if you tried to sue us, our lawyers would eat you alive,” she said, with a smirk that said—Checkmate, game over, you lose; sign the waiver and get the fuck out of here, you bastard!

Saphire’s smirk dazed Micheal, and he looked like he’d been shot with a tranquilizer dart. He had a dopey look on his face that went beyond the typical boy meets girl — love at first sight. It was a look that Saphire knew all too well because she saw it every day---and she knew something about Micheal, even if he didn’t know it himself; but would soon find out.

That Crazy Little Thing Called Love... It’s a spell. It’s magic. It’s a trap. Once caught, the victim is rendered powerless. That is love; the effects of love; it’s the loss of the mind.

Her years in sales had made her keen on people. She knew the look of desperation. The look that said, I have to have it or else. She’s done great in sales because she knew how to spot the look---the look of love. The look of desperation. The hunger in the eyes. The hole in the heart. The desire in the loins—that could only be filled with the object of desire.

Sapphire knew that for those in love, NO was never an answer. They would die or kill to get what they wanted. It was hunger, a sickness. A desperation of an animal in a cage. A starving man in need of food, a man dying in the desert in need of water. That was love, and she knew the look and Micheal had it.

That Crazy Little Thing Called LOVE...

At first, Micheal’s gaze had caught her off guard; she hadn’t expected it. But now, it was as if providence was answering her prayers. She realized the man in front of her -- Micheal Hutchens -- the man who had slipped and hit his head ---was the universe’s answer to her prayers. She was not a religious woman, but she thought, Thank you God.

So she did the unexpected. Sapphire got up. She went to the door. She locked it. Then she walked over to the desk. She let her hair down and sat on the desk in front of Michael with her crotch at eye level and her legs partly open in front of him.

Micheal’s eyes went wide.

—Oh, my god, Mike! It’s going to happen! It’s really going to happen—just like in them movies, eh? Just wait she’s till she parts them legs!

Only, Saphire didn’t part her legs.

—Damn it!

“I don’t know if I should call the police on you, Mr. Hutchens,”

“The police? What for? For hitting my head on a stanchion?”

“No, Mr. Hutchens ... for murder,” said Saphire.

“Murder? What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t kill anyone,” Micheal said.

“Not yet, Mr. Hutchens, but in a few hours, you will. They call the Winchester Diamond the God’s Eye for a reason. Looking at it for even a split second can change your life. You’re going to wish you’d never come here to look at the Winchester Diamond, and you’re going to wish that you’d never seen me,” said Saphire.

“Oh?” Micheal said.

That Crazy Little Thing Called Love...

“I see the look in your eyes already. You’re not going to be able to get me out of your mind. You’ll drive yourself mad thinking about me, imagining me in all sorts of nasty positions you men like so much. The mind is a monster sometimes, Mr. Hutchens; it can be hard to control. The mind can lead a man to kill ... himself ... or someone else. The mind is a beast; we’re lucky that most of us don’t have much of it -- if we did, we’d all be in big trouble.”

’When your mind gets a hold of you, Mr. Hutches, you’ll realize that you have to have me—that you can’t live without me. You’ll see me everywhere you go. It will drive you crazy. You’ll stalk me till, eventually, you’ll kill me,” said Saphire.

“You’re insane!” Michael said.

---Get out of there, Mike! The birds a psycho. She’s gonna boil your bunny!”

“And remember this, Mr. Hutchens, when you’re rotting away in a prison cell — realize you had no control over this; it was your fate.”

“My fate? You call killing someone my fate? Which I would never do,” said Michael.

“You’re not a bad man, Mr. Hutchens, but it’s just so happens that I’ve triggered your switch,” said Saphire

“My switch?” said Michael.

That Crazy Little Thing Called Love...

“Our minds have switches, and once those switches get triggered, we’re never the same. A person could walk down a street a hundred times, then one day the sun hits them in the face just so, they are never the same again. From that point on, their lives are forever changed. This is what’s going to happen to you, Mr. Hutchens. but after today, your life will turn to shit. You’ll stop eating. You’ll lose your job; your money; your home; your friends; your family. You will beg for death. You will cease to function in life and live in utter misery. There is only one way to save you, Mr. Hutchens,” said Saphire.

“How’s that?” said Michael.

“We have to have sleep together,” said Saphire.

— Now she’s talking. I sure thought this was going down a bad road for a minute, Mike, but we’re back on track now. Oh, yeah!

That Crazy Little Thing Called Love...

Mike smiled. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had to pinch himself to see if he was awake or dreaming.

“Before you get excited, Mr. Hutchens ... realize that everything has a price—and the price for me is — the Winchester Diamond,” Saphire said.

“The Winchester Diamond?” Micheal said, laughing madly. “Why don’t you just ask for the moon, it would be easier to get? How do you suppose I get it? Magic?”

“How else does someone get something they can’t afford? --- You steal it. Today is the last day the diamond will be here. Old Man Winchester is taking it back and locking it up. It’s my last chance to have it. I have to have the diamond, and I will do anything to get it. Anything, Mr. Hutchens—anything. You see I share your fate. I need this diamond, Mr. Hutchens. If you don’t steal it for me, I’ll go crazy. I knew the moment I saw the diamond that I had to have it. I have a fetish for these things. At first it was fine just seeing it at work everyday and on my days off ... but now Winchester is taking back his diamond and I’ll never see it again. I’ll just die if I don’t have it.”

“Bullocks.,” said Michael. He got up, signed the waiver, and went out to the door, but before leaving, he looked back at Saphire for one last look.

“You have until eight o’clock,” said Saphire.

“You crazy bitch!” said Michael.

***

Micheal Hutchens walked out of Bailey Banks and Biddle Jewelry Store, taking a last look at the diamond behind the glass case.

For the next few hours, he drove around Sheffield in an attempt to put everything out of his mind, especially Saphire. Any other man would have just gone to a pub, had a few pints and forgotten about it.

— Let it go, Mike. She’s put the whammy on you. It’s what they call manifesting reality. She put the idea in your head to make it a reality. She’s nothing but a gypsy — a witch, and she’s put a spell on you, said the voice of reason.

An eruption of emotion surged within Micheal Hutchens. It was Saphire. He tried to block her out of his mind. He began to see her everywhere -- in alleys, in storefront windows, in cars as they passed on the street.

“Saphire ... Saphire ... Saphire.” He couldn’t stop saying her name. In his mind, she appeared naked — doing things — things he loved. She was a contortionist. He was mesmerized by her perfection — her perfect flesh — so soft and smooth.

— Get a grip, Mike! You’re losing it. You’re so far gone, you can’t even hear me. Well, as-ta-la-vista, brother, you’re on your own.

Michael opened his eyes and found himself stopped at a red light. What street was he on? It didn’t matter because he knew where he was going now, and it was a one way road to hell.

He called Saphire on his cell phone, with a quiver in his voice. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

***

At eight o’clock, Micheal met Saphire at her place. She gave him the keys to the store, access codes for the alarm, instructions on how to turn off the video camera, and all the ins and outs of where to walk and not to.

At eight thirty, Michael left, and by 10 pm he was back at Saphire’s apartment with a velvet bag, and inside was the Winchester Diamond.

The joy that should have been on Saphire’s face when Micheal first met her was there now. He realized that she was under the spell of the God’s Eye, just as he was under hers. That is why she looked miserable. Micheal stood there looking at her, watching her every move as the Saphire glistened.

“Well, I’ve completed my part of the deal,” Michael said, giving Saphire a big smile.

Saphire’s incredible look of amazement quickly soured when she remembered what she had promised to do.

“Do you really expect me to sleep with you?” Saphire said.

“No,” said Michael.

“No!” Saphire said, surprised.

“Don’t get me wrong, I would do it in a heartbeat, but ... wait here ... I have something for you.” Micheal left.

Saphire had no clue what Micheal’s plans were. This was unpredictable and her intuition was no help. “I can not let this go too far,” she said. She poured two Scotches—one for her and the other laced with strychnine for him. “That should drop an anchor on his voyage.”

Micheal returned to the apartment carrying a large hexagon-shaped box wrapped in tin foil.

“This is for you,” he said.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Saphire said, feeling that what was inside the box could have the same effect as the drink she’d just handed Michael, which he set down on the coffee table without sipping.

“But lucky for the cat, it has nine lives,” Michael said, with a big grin.

Saphire looked at the box. She was scared to open it. But she couldn’t keep away from it. It called to her like a moth to a flame. She had no choice but to open the box, and inside she found — a dress.

“It was Queen Victoria’s dress,” Michael said. At first, Saphire was speechless. The dress was nothing like she’d ever seen. It was a dress covered in diamonds and gems.

’It’s... it’s...” Saphire was speechless.

“Beautiful. Yes, I know,” said Micheal, and he looked at Saphire’s eyes. “All I ask for your payment is for you to wear the dress. I want to see something beautiful.”

Saphire couldn’t say no. Being asked to grace the world with her beauty was more of an obligation she had. Besides, it was easier than sleeping with Michael.

She disappeared into the bedroom with the God’s Eye Diamond and the dress. Michael sat on the couch, looking around the apartment. There were paintings, sculptures, and other beautiful things. Hanging over the fireplace was a painting by Vermeer — Girl with a Pearl Earring. Micheal smiled knowing it was a fake. He saw the drink Saphire had poured for him on the table and picked it up. He was just about to drink it when Saphire walked into the room wearing the beautiful dress.

He was awestruck and dropped his drink. The glass shattered on the floor. Sapphire saw it and winced, then something came over her.

Saphire. Never in her life had she ever been made to feel so beautiful. Sure, men came on to her all the time, but they treated her like a woman. But here, wearing the dress, she had transcended human beauty. She loved beauty. there was nothing more precious to her. Now, she felt like a painting by Vermeer, Picasso. Like Davinci’s Mona Lisa. Like Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel; like the God’s Eye itself.

Saphire felt beautiful like a creation of art — a masterpiece.

She felt incredibly gracious towards Michael, the artist who had created her. She found herself opening up. Her cold heart, that had been frozen for years, had finally warmed and it was ready to erupt like a volcano.

She wanted Michael. She desired him. She wanted to give to him, to fulfill him. She looked at Micheal with loving eyes. She was willing to give herself to him ... for eternity.

Micheal stepped over the broken glass like a dazed man. He walked up to Saphire and kissed her lips. It was mind-blowing.

Saphire felt a warmth, not just from the kiss but from the dress. She figured the material was making her itchy, but when she tried to scratch herself, she couldn’t move her arms.

Michael saw it in her eyes.

“The dress is covered in a neurotoxin. It won’t kill, you, I swear it. I mean you no harm,” said Michael, with a devilish smile. Saphire frowned as the toxin had not frozen her face yet.

“Stop that, my love. Stress causes wrinkles. And I need you to stay perfect,” said Michael.

Saphire felt herself stiffening up. She looked at Michael’s drink splattered on the floor. Michael saw her gaze and realized the drink had been poisoned.

“Tsk, tsk, love, nine lives,” said Micheal.

She wanted to kill him, to claw his eyes out with her long nails, the same nails she had imagined clawing into his back. If she could move, she would have done it, but she couldn’t. All she could do was breathe.

Micheal reached into Saphire’s hand and pulled out the Winchester Diamond. He held the diamond in front of her eyes, and she stared at it with great amazement.

“Exquisite, isn’t it? I came to steal it and then I saw you. I knew then that I had to have you. You were right. Now I have you both,” said Michael.

— Good going, Mike.

***

The next day, Michael Hutchens entered a large mansion and was greeted at the door by an older man, in his seventies, wearing glasses and a black pen-striped suit; a butler.

“Thompson, take care of that for me,” Michael said, and he tossed the velvet bag at the man who caught it skillfully in the air. Thompson opened the bag and saw the Winchester Diamond and smiled.

“Good show, master Hutchens. This is a great fortune indeed,” said Thompson. “I’m guessing it was all a success?”

Michael smiled at him as he climbed the stairs. Thompson knew the smile.

An hour later, Micheal Hutchens — owner of a mansion, professional art collector, professional thief — who had an incredible collection of beautiful things in his house and an even more impressive one under it — walked through an underground cavern , passing the original painting of Vermeer’s, Girl with a Pearl Earring next to the Mona Lisa, and went into a room where the God’s Eye gleamed magically under a spotlight along with hundreds of other diamonds and jewels.

He passed the God’s Eye and the rest of the treasures without giving them the slightest look. He went deeper still, into the cold parts of the tomb where he found Thompson standing.

The older man’s breath steamed from the cold as the room was as cold as a freezer. Micheal Hutchens stood next to Thompson, and the two men looked up at a glass case where Saphire in the beautiful dress stood frozen in perfection.

“Well Thompson, what do you think?” said Michael.

“She’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”