I turned it over in my hands, my thumbs worked over its edges, fingers dove into its depths. The chips gave the top an uneven look, a somewhat toothed rim.

No, crowned.

It did grant gold, after all, so it was only fitting to describe it that way. It fascinated me; the way it felt in my hands, the reflection of light playing across its surface, obscuring the delicate whorls of paint with its brightness.

I did the same thing that he did with it to prove its worth: I spat in it, then rolled the small bead of gold into my palm before watching it dribble through my fingers to the ground below.

Amazing.

But that was the problem with the cup’s power, its one falling point. It granted gold, but no-one would likely accept it in a liquid form. So I had to refine it somehow, turn it into a solid bar to shape and style. It seemed like I attempted everything in my attempt to create riches. I strained it just to find it waiting in the bottom of the bowl, a sparkling sea of metal. I applied great heat to it, but that only yielded a blackened lump that resembled the gold I longed for in no conceivable way. My last attempt came from desperation, my deep desire to assemble affluence almost exhausted. But it worked.

I poured my watery wealth into shallow pans and left them in the sun, hoping that evaporation would leave treasure behind. And that it did. Some quality of the sun, the golden fingers of its warmth, affected the shining solution and gave me gold.

Gold.

I had its secret, knew the nuances of my prize. It became my new fixation, a facet by which to find all the prosperity I would ever need, would ever want, and then some. My cup changed my composure, the affluence affected my appearance.

All for the better. Always for the better, I kept telling myself.

It would be cliché to say that I went from rags to riches, but that is what in fact happened. True, my ‘rags’ had no problems with them and were, by common standards were quite fine, but they paled when compared to my new finery, the fruit of my fortunes.

I smiled, knowing that everything was now in my grasp, nothing was unattainable. I had found love before the cup, and now I had both: love and luxury, the pleasures of privileged people.

Love.

And luxury.

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This is a parable of sorts. Having said that, you can probably see where this is going.
HOWEVER! D O . N O T . A D D to this.
Yet. I have to tell the full story, but after that I'm leaving it open to additions. After all, no-one said that I had to write and ending.

updated Sep 27 by JackRubashevskiy