Game: Horses Hologram
Shane Jones

She sits on the carpet in a spot where the sun enters in the shape of a triangle. She wears a thin gray nightgown, transparent, her spine visible from the doorway. Lately her body aches, nights unable to sleep from the pain and heat. She predicts her crystal count to be less than fifty.
From the box, sitting to the side of the triangle of sunlight, she takes out the crystal and dips it into the light. The triangle warps. Long yellow beams reflect off the crystal. Mom tilts her hand until a hologram of another black crystal appears in the middle of a light beam.
During her best games of Horses Hologram, Mom produces eight individual holograms in eight beams of light, her hand contorted in a new symbol. The highest crystal nearly touches the ceiling, grazes corner cobwebs. The lowest hovers, flickers, near her ear, and once she tilted her head and half the crystal, part of the yellow beam, disappeared inside her hair.
Last week, after reaching eight holograms, she stretched her fingers into positions that burned the joints trying to get one more.
Two black horses appeared and floated above her hand. She held back laughter and contained her shaking. Physically she was a small woman, but she felt big, massive, a giant creating unusual shapes from her hand holding a crystal. A pool of green-felt expanded under the horse's feet. A red box faded in around the black crystal and her hand. The oozing green-felt formed a solid side. Her hand disappeared inside. The horses became a solid shine and shook their manes. They stomped their hooves and the blast radiated a ring, then a lake, of white light. Mom moved her fingers, but she couldn't feel them. She dropped the crystal and everything vanished but the triangle of sunshine coming through the window.