“We’ll have to give it back.” It was never ours to keep, but merely hold on to until the rightful owner came back. We though it would be any easy task, but if proved to be anything but.

When the owner gave us the object, and told us we would be paid beyond our dreams for keeping it safe, we though “why not?” He was charming, powerful, we didn’t want to say no. Plus, for two broke artists, any income was welcome.

So he left it with us. We tried to ignore it, and just get on with our art; painting and writing. But it called to us. Glowing, mysterious, it promised to reveal secrets to us if we only listened.

So we listened. My roommate painted what he was shown, and I wrote what I was told. Food was forgotten. All we wanted was the knowledge. Until my roommate changed his mind.

“Maybe he won’t return, we can keep it,” I said. “No, it will control us, we should return it.” Was he crazy?! No, it was ours now. I would not let it go. It was mine, mine alone.

I picked up the object, to my roommate’s protests, and walked into the kitchen. He followed me, still saying something about returning it, or even destroying the object. Never!

The large knife was on the counter. Without realizing what I was doing, I grabbed it and attacked. He fell to the ground, throat slit.

What did I do? I loved him, or I though it did. Odd, as I looked down at his body, I felt nothing.

Walking back to the living room, the owner of the object was back. No idea how get in, but I wasn’t surprised to see him.

“What did you do?” He inquired, a cruel grin on his face.

“He wanted to return it. I want to keep it.” I still held the knife.

“Do you? Well, you cannot own it alone. It is too powerful for you.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked.

He merely reached his hand out, and I switched the knife to the other hand, with the object.

We vanished in green smoke.