The Blue Stone

The night of my attack last week, Vincent’s mom told me he was half asleep saying I needed to find the “blue stone.” Well, I did happen to see one a couple of days before, and told her so. She was shocked.

A couple of days later, Jane messaged me saying he asked her again, if I had found the blue stone. I sent her a picture of the blue stone I was talking about, and she showed it to him. He looked at it and asked if I found the blue stone.

I sent her another pic of another blue stone (turquoise actually). He again said I needed to find the blue stone.

I went to the local metaphysical store and took pictures of blue crystals. Nope.

I took pictures of a local diner, “The Blue Moon Cafe.” Uh… no.

He asked again, a couple of more times this past week. “He’s really focused on you finding the blue stone,” Jane told me.

Vincent said that before I move on I need to find the blue stone and make a movie about my book. Sent Jane the book trailer. (“Scared the shit out of me to be honest with you.”) She told Vincent I had done it. He smiled and said, “He’ll hear good news soon. Did he find the blue stone?”

“I have an idea,” I told Jane. “Ask him to draw what the blue stone looks like.”

Around 3:30 this morning (6:30 pm, Australia) I received a messaged. “Your blue stone.”

Guess, what I’m looking for today.Harold and the blue stone

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