Edith hobbled down the sunlit street, leaning heavily on her cane as she took her daily walk to the park. She had lived in this village for her entire life, though it had never been boring—not a single day. She had many grandchildren who brought joy to her when they visited, and yes, her life was still full of joy, especially when they visited from the big cities. Her only longing was to be filled with energy again, to be able to run and run and run without ever tiring, to be able to play with the little ones on the playground and chase them round and round. For now, at least she was still able to make it down the familiar block every morning, greeting the worn pavement and bricks—old friends to her by now.
Today, however, a new poster haphazardly taped onto the wall caught her eye. She had never seen it before, but it looked crumpled and worn, as if it had been hanging there for well over a year.
POTION OF EVERLASTING YOUTH, it advertised in big red block letters. FOR MORE INFORMATION, ENTER THE THIRD HOUSE ON THE LEFT.
Edith looked down the street—eerily empty. She glanced at the narrow brick houses that lined the road, and sure enough: the third house on the left, its door painted the exact same shade of red, though a little washed out from rain. She had never noticed that house in her life, despite its strange door, as Edith had never seen anyone leave it, nor anyone enterenter or leave it.
Furrowing her eyebrows, she slowly made her way to the house, wheezing up the stairs to the door. She knocked once. Twice. The door swung open, revealing a man grinning widely at her. Tall and slim, he wore an eccentric tophat, suit, and gold monocle.
“Come in, come in,” he greeted her warmly, still wearing that strange smile. “Come for the youth potion, have you?”
“Yes,” she replied, smiling back wearily. Edith followed him inside, the interior smelling of something like incense. “I suppose I’ve grown tired of these old bones.”
“Well, then,” he opened the glass door of a cabinet filled to the brim with little bottles of various shapes and sizes. “I suppose believe we should discuss pricing. But please, have a seat first. Care for tea?”
She declined politely, sitting in an old-fashioned chair of dark wood. Edith watched as the man’s fingers hovered over the bottles before he picked out a simple but elegant glass vial. Inside, a clear liquid could be seen, almost like water.
“The cost of my youth potion will be that necklace there,” he said, pointing to the simple light blue pendant hanging from her neck. He sat down across from her. The wide grin had returned to his face. “I don’t suppose you know where you got it from?”
“No,” Edith admitted. She recalled being able to remember the origin of her necklace perhaps earlier in her life, but now her memory felt foggy, the answer just out of reach. “But are you sure your potion works?”
“Of course!” He exclaimed. “Why else would I sell it? Upon drinking, it will quickly transport you into a state of youth, and you will be able to enjoy life once again! Your spirit will fly high among the sky, and you will be in an endless paradise! And, as advertised, your youth will be everlasting. Not a single thing in the world can change that once you consume this potion! Do we have a deal?”
Edith smiled gratefully as she unclasped the necklace and set it on the table. She noted the small engravings on the back of the pendant, but thought nothing of it.
The man handed her the potion, and Edith returned home, her trip to the park all but forgotten.
“When I drink this,” she thought. “I will truly be in Heaven.”
The man watched her go from the window, the necklace clenched in his fist, a cat-like grin of greed pasted on his face before he turned away.
Feeling a prickling sense of dread, Edith turned back to the house suddenly. Strangely, the building seemed to be covered in moss and vines and the bricks worn and crumbled, as if abandoned some hundred years ago. Brushing off the odd appearance of the house, she continued on her way home.
Upon arriving at her humble abode, Edith eagerly uncorked the vial. Inside, the potion, barely a mouthful of clear liquid, waited for her. She quickly downed it, chasing following it with a few quick gulps of water.
A few moments after, she felt peculiarly drowsy, as if she could sleep for a thousand years. Stumbling her way to her bed, she barely had time to pull the covers over herself as she fell into slumber.
The next morning, a featured headline in the small town’s newspaper read: WIDOW EDITH PRESCOTT, 82, FOUND DEAD IN HOME. Next to it: PRICELESS DIAMOND NECKLACE SOLD FOR $2 MILLION AT AUCTION.
Today, however, a new poster haphazardly taped onto the wall caught her eye. She had never seen it before, but it looked crumpled and worn, as if it had been hanging there for well over a year.
POTION OF EVERLASTING YOUTH, it advertised in big red block letters. FOR MORE INFORMATION, ENTER THE THIRD HOUSE ON THE LEFT.
Edith looked down the street—eerily empty. She glanced at the narrow brick houses that lined the road, and sure enough: the third house on the left, its door painted the exact same shade of red, though a little washed out from rain. She had never noticed that house in her life, despite its strange door, as Edith had never seen anyone leave it, nor anyone enterenter or leave it.
Furrowing her eyebrows, she slowly made her way to the house, wheezing up the stairs to the door. She knocked once. Twice. The door swung open, revealing a man grinning widely at her. Tall and slim, he wore an eccentric tophat, suit, and gold monocle.
“Come in, come in,” he greeted her warmly, still wearing that strange smile. “Come for the youth potion, have you?”
“Yes,” she replied, smiling back wearily. Edith followed him inside, the interior smelling of something like incense. “I suppose I’ve grown tired of these old bones.”
“Well, then,” he opened the glass door of a cabinet filled to the brim with little bottles of various shapes and sizes. “I suppose believe we should discuss pricing. But please, have a seat first. Care for tea?”
She declined politely, sitting in an old-fashioned chair of dark wood. Edith watched as the man’s fingers hovered over the bottles before he picked out a simple but elegant glass vial. Inside, a clear liquid could be seen, almost like water.
“The cost of my youth potion will be that necklace there,” he said, pointing to the simple light blue pendant hanging from her neck. He sat down across from her. The wide grin had returned to his face. “I don’t suppose you know where you got it from?”
“No,” Edith admitted. She recalled being able to remember the origin of her necklace perhaps earlier in her life, but now her memory felt foggy, the answer just out of reach. “But are you sure your potion works?”
“Of course!” He exclaimed. “Why else would I sell it? Upon drinking, it will quickly transport you into a state of youth, and you will be able to enjoy life once again! Your spirit will fly high among the sky, and you will be in an endless paradise! And, as advertised, your youth will be everlasting. Not a single thing in the world can change that once you consume this potion! Do we have a deal?”
Edith smiled gratefully as she unclasped the necklace and set it on the table. She noted the small engravings on the back of the pendant, but thought nothing of it.
The man handed her the potion, and Edith returned home, her trip to the park all but forgotten.
“When I drink this,” she thought. “I will truly be in Heaven.”
The man watched her go from the window, the necklace clenched in his fist, a cat-like grin of greed pasted on his face before he turned away.
Feeling a prickling sense of dread, Edith turned back to the house suddenly. Strangely, the building seemed to be covered in moss and vines and the bricks worn and crumbled, as if abandoned some hundred years ago. Brushing off the odd appearance of the house, she continued on her way home.
Upon arriving at her humble abode, Edith eagerly uncorked the vial. Inside, the potion, barely a mouthful of clear liquid, waited for her. She quickly downed it, chasing following it with a few quick gulps of water.
A few moments after, she felt peculiarly drowsy, as if she could sleep for a thousand years. Stumbling her way to her bed, she barely had time to pull the covers over herself as she fell into slumber.
The next morning, a featured headline in the small town’s newspaper read: WIDOW EDITH PRESCOTT, 82, FOUND DEAD IN HOME. Next to it: PRICELESS DIAMOND NECKLACE SOLD FOR $2 MILLION AT AUCTION.