Hello, R. L. Stein Story Club members. I'm Ivy, your ghostly host and keeper of those

strange and spooky tales from the hidden vault of R.L. Stein. Today is yet again another

chilling tale. This shattering tale story club members might make you not want to pick up stuff

that you randomly find. It's one I call the painted eggs cracked. Catherine Price saw it as she

walked home from school one spring day. It spoke to her, well not literally, but the way it

caught the sunlight, the way the light glinted off its smooth, shiny surface,

it seemed to speak and want her attention.

It was a rock, but not your ordinary garden variety rock that's dull and gray and boring.

No, this rock looked like stained glass.

It had swirling colors of berry purple, midnight blue, and fire orange.

Beautiful.

The pretty rock was down in a hole.

The city power company had dug some ditches to lay some new underground cables.

Catherine had seen crews of workers in bright orange hard hats and dirty overalls working in this area every day as she walked to and from school.

Nobody was around today, though. It was just her

and the rock. She had to have it. Setting down her backpack on the sidewalk, Catherine climbed down

into the four-foot deep trench. The shiny rock hid in the dirt bank, but stuck out enough to catch

the rays of the afternoon sun. Catherine clawed the soft dirt around the rock and pulled it free.

The swirling colored rock was about the size of a softball in her hands.

She shook it and estimated that it weighed about four pounds.

Looking close at the swirling patterns under the light, it seemed to spin and dance like clouds.

Was it the light playing tricks on her eyes?

...