Mother Vugger

When I was maybe nine, we went to a church friend's house for Easter. They lived in the mountains, right next to a little creek that came down through their yard from the woods. I got bored waiting for dinner and decided to explore the creek, and I started finding crystals.

I was wearing a really pretty Easter dress with pockets, so I filled them up as I climbed the hillside. There were all sorts of pieces, but the one I remember the most was the clear quartz crystal, about as long as my finger, with what looked like a cloud of blood suspended inside it. I pulled it out of the water with my own hands and it was like magic. A switch flipped in my head and I was hooked for life.

I don't know how far I walked, but suddenly there was a man on the hillside, yelling at me to go back, that I was on private property. So I turned around and went back to the Easter house, soaking wet and covered in mud. My mom was pissed, but I didn't care. I had zoned out in the hunt, and my pockets were bulging with rocks.

Some months later, my friend from across the street stole the blood crystal. I saw it in his sock drawer when I was over visiting one day, and didn't have the courage to steal it back or confront him. I never got it back.

The same friend's little sister also tried to steal a beautiful V-shaped twin crystal that was my second-favorite piece, but when I caught her and tried to take it back, she dropped it in the street and it broke. I kept the pieces on the roof with my toys and wished I could put it back together, but I didn't have access to superglue and never thought to ask my parents for help. I like to think the broken crystal is still up there, along with all the toys I abandoned when we moved, bleaching in the sun this past sixteen years.

And that's how I became a rockhound. The frustration, the hunt, the prize--I crave it every day. I dream about it at night. I lust after another man's collection. I covet my neighbor's rocky backyard. I whine and pine over the one that got away. I undress roadcuts with my eyes on every car trip. I'm a sick pervert and there's no fixing it. The only cure is the disease. I'm doomed.

Anyway, today I was checking DA and came across a specimen of blood quartz that reminded me of the small crystal I found all those years ago. On a whim, I checked out eBay to see if there were any smaller pieces for sale that looked like my long-lost specimen.

And what did I find? Oh, golly but it's glorious.

Check out this spectacular fakery.



I sent an email to The Vug about it, because dude.... air bubbles!? I'm no expert in minerals or nothin', but even I know not to buy supernaturally polished crystals full of swirly air bubbles. Maybe as a paperweight since it IS pretty (for a piece of polished glass). But Jeeesus. Air bubbles. I wonder if they'll add it to their spectacular fraud page.

And so, the hunt for blood quartz continues.