I didn’t mean to stop and stare like that - but I couldn’t help it. It was… hypnotic, to say the least; every word rang out harmoniously, every note resonated vigorously - yet, despite all that colour, it remained calm in nature, his words eloquently cutting away at my worries and distractions till all I could do was focus on him.

Alas, it didn’t seem like the world wanted me to feel such peace for very long. My phone, its vibrations dragging me right back to the present moment, rang out in rude defiance, reminding me why I was here in the first place.

“It’s about time you picked up, Serah,” his sly, mocking voice pinged in a distorted tone, “I’ve been waiting.”

It was hard to hide my frustration at hearing his voice and a sigh escaped my lips against my will, “Just cut it out Sebas. I’ve brought the money so tell me where we’re meeting.”

His stupid chuckle made me want to be sick.

“What’s the rush, hun? I’m not going anywhere. This is a cause for celebration, don’t you say? How many generations has it been - three? Four, even? Finally, you guys have decided to end this feud.”

His words made me shudder, which I guess he must’ve heard, since he began cackling animalistically.

“Well, I say ‘you guys’, yet really it’s just you, isn’t it? Ah, this is truly golden - all this just to hide one measily secret from your family.”

“Disrespectfully, go fuck yourself.”

“Feisty one, are we? Careful now - you wouldn’t want the price of my silence to rise, would you?”

I bit my tongue at that, less to keep silent and more to find some sort of outlet for at least a tiny portion of of the bubbling pot of frustration I was feeling.

As if to make it worse, the man was packing up his equipment now - I never even realised when his angelic voice ceased to paint my background in hues of pink and orange. I walked over to him, blending in with the crowd of people he seemed to have summoned around him so naturally, and slipped a tenner into the cup I saw.

It was an intriguing cup; it seemed to be a simple paper cup at first glance, yet the more I looked at the cup, the more I felt uneasy - like watching a moth get closer and closer to an open flame, idly floating towards it with blissful ignorance to the danger it was putting itself in for the sake of sneaking one extra look, closer and closer until it inevitably—

“… Miss?”

His voice dragged my focus almost immediately away from the cup, snapping my head upwards with stirred ferocity, only to fling it right onto his poor chin, sending the both of us clutching for our faces in pain.

“I - I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me—“

“Don’t… don’t stress it, Miss, it was a simple mistake. Are you okay?”

He looked even better up close.

Stopping my jaw from hanging like a limp arm was a conscious effort; everything from his deep, polished mahogany eyes, to his chocolate-smooth skin. Not to mention his voice; here I was praising his singing, not even wondering just how refined his speaking voice could possibly be.

Jeez, I sound like some desperate fan girl.

“I’m fine, really… oh, right, have this,” I finally put the tenner into the cup, followed by his genuine gratitude, “Your voice really is something else… you should make a career out of this if you can.”

“I’ll definitely keep it in mind. It’s a shame how family and responsibilities can get in the way of your freedom though.”

Never has a sentence resonated with me on such a deep level.

I gave a general, people-pleasing laugh, realising o didn’t have time for any more small talk. Try as I might, there’s no avoiding the harsh reality of my situation right now.

It was a lovely café all in all - it’s a shame this is where I have to make such a one-sided choice. The money doesn’t even guarantee me his silence, it just buys time for me to get my mess of a family together and stop them from destroying themselves from the inside out.

Who knew time could be so expensive.

“Ah, you came after all. Have a seat - I made reservations.”

I turned around to meet his narrow, slit-like eyes goading me to sit down. The only thing stopping me from putting a foot through that stupid skull was the fact that it was a pretty public place - as well as the fact doing that just wouldn’t benefit me in the long-term.

Reluctantly, I sat across from him, my heart beating for all the wrong reasons. I took the envelope out of my purse and slid it across from him, “You’ll keep your promise, will you not?”

“Telling you I will won’t change the doubt you have, so just see this as a temporary contract if it helps you better,” he laughed, irritating me that much more.

“Before we part though, there’s someone I’d like you to meet; I’ve figured you might go behind the deal and report me to my family Patriarch, so I’ve decided to bring him here to show the officiality of this deal. How about that, Sarah?”

My heart stopped.

I hardly get to see my own family Patriarch - let alone the one of our enemy. This could go so wrong, so fast; for all I know, this whole café could be under their jurisdiction, every single person here one of their own, waiting for their Patriarch to give the signal before they do the unthinkable.

I needed to get out of here; and fast.

“Woah, woah, woah there,” he reached over the table, grabbing my arm as I began to sit up, “What’s the rush? Where’s the feisty girl that spoke to me over the phone? Are you trying to make a commotion **here **of all places?”

Chills went down my neck at those words; was I right? What could he possibly mean by that? No, I had no time to think about that - I have to get out of here.

I tore my arm from his grip and hurriedly stumbled out of the café booth, heading straight for the door. I could see him getting up out of the corner of my eye - presumably to chase after me - but I had no time to stop, no time to think, no time to—

**_BAM!

_**I fell onto my back, stunned temporarily as I tried to figure out what on earth just went down. Wiping my eyes, I looked ahead only to see the same guy busking earlier - beautiful face and all!

To say I was confused would be an understatement. He got up before me, helping me up to my feet before also recognising me and breaking into the hottest chuckle I’ve ever heard in my life.

(… I gotta sort myself out…)

“Seems fate decided to have you continuously injure me today, hasn’t it?”

I laughed nervously at that, dusting myself off, “It would seem so, I’m really sorry about all this…”

“I-It can’t be…”

That voice snapped me right back to about 5 minutes before my second run-in with Mr Heartstopper - wasn’t I just running away from Sebas??

I looked back at him, wondering if I had any time to quickly slip past Mr Heartsnatcher (wasn’t it just Heartstopper a paragraph ago?) and make a run for it, but after seeing those sly, coin slot-like eyes so panicked, a sense of satisfaction and confusion came over me.

“… Patriarch..?”

…No, I must’ve heard that wrong. There are plenty of words he could’ve meant; maybe Pastor, Patrician, maybe even just parachute - see? Plenty of words he could’ve meant. I must’ve heard that wrong - no, I definitely heard that wrong.

The silence that rang out was beyond just deafening. I couldn’t tear my eyes off Sebas - I didn’t have the nerve to look anywhere else, nor the nerve to look back at Mr Wifestealer (okay this is getting ridiculous now).

“Sebas… why aren’t you sat with the client? You told me we were meeting someone. I didn’t rent out a whole café for nothing.”

He put his arm on my shoulder, and I swear to you I’ve never been so close to crying. What kind of timing is this? God must be rolling in his golden bed because there’s no way he’s not pulling my leg here.

“Well, about that—“

“Before that,” he interrupted, spinning me around to face him, “I’m very sorry about all this, I’d love to catch up later but I’m currently on some struck business… music-related business you could say.”

“… What..?”

“No, sir,” Sebas quickly interjected, “You don’t understand—“

“Silence, Sebas. Can’t you see I’m talking to a good friend of mine?”

“… Good … friend..?”

“I’m afraid we must catch up later,” he pulled me closer (ohmahgodohmahgodohmahgod) and whispered into my ear, “Just pretend you know me, you kinda got yourself in a sticky situation; under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t allow you to leave, but just promise to pretend nothing happened here; I trust you.”

I nodded, as confused as physically imaginable, and waddled out of there unscathed. The second I felt fresh, free air on my cheek, I sprinted out of there with such efficiency I’m surprised I didn’t break any world records on the way.

… Maybe God doesn’t hate me after all.

“The only thing we ever get enough of is love; and the only thing we never give enough of is love.”

“… Why are you saying this now?”

“Simple: I’m going to give you all the love you couldn’t be bothered to give me - in my own way.”

And then, warmth.

How could something so cold feel so warm? My stomach felt as though it had been brushed up against a radiator, yet at the same time its numb with feeling. I can’t feel, I can’t see clearly, and the ringing in my ear is a drowning loud - what is happening to me?

How did it even get to this?

I was walking back from another ordinary day, the rain accompanying my every step. I had forgotten my umbrella, so I was in a hurry to make it to my car. I open the door and sat inside - shelter, at last - then revved the engine and turned on the lights.

“Don’t. Move.”

My body locked up almost instantly. A voice whispered in my ear, a knife to my neck and a gun to my side. I couldn’t even turn around, but I recognised that voice clear as day; I raised it for 19 years.

“… Kenny?”

“Shut up; don’t even think about that name. It’s been dead to you for a long, long time; treat it no differently now. Now, drive.”

We drove in murderous silence. The shade of trees stretched out and over my car over and over again as we went past old playgrounds and closed ice cream shops, the scent of damp moss so strong it made its way into the car. Twigs that we once used to play 3 Musketeers snapped irrelevantly under the pressure of the car, under the pressure of my fear. It was the longest car ride.

As I fumbled with the keys, he seemed to relax his grip on the knife to my neck. I wanted to move - jolt back and elbow him in the face and run for the hills - but he must’ve sensed my desperate hope as he cut into my neck, fresh blood ruining its stainless steel, and laughed to himself.

This really wasn’t Kenny.

Then again, how should I know? I only raised him for 19 years.

We walked down to the basement, where he finally let go of my neck and kicked me to the floor. He sat down on a certain white chair; it was the most ironic scenario imaginable.

“You remember this chair, don’t you, ‘father’?”

“…”

“I’m sure you do; you’d always be sat on it, watching me from the basement door playing with the neighbours. You’d always be sat on it, reprimanding me for the silliest mistakes. You’d always be sat on it, hitting me with your god-forsaken belt whenever you had too much to drink.”

“L-Listen, I—“

“SHUT UP. I’ve done enough listening, praying, begging, binding my time - **I’VE DONE ENOGUH OF IT,” I **couldn’t help but flinch at his outburst, which only seemed to make him laugh even more.

He leaned back into the white, weathered chair, and sighed, the stench of alcohol wafting from his lips. Now that I looked closer at him, he could pass as homeless; ragged clothes, shoes with holes like Swiss cheese, and a sense of strained desperation.

“You know,” he began again, freakishly casual, “I contemplated what to do to you on the drive here. Should I whip you black and blue like you always threatened to do? Should I just hurl this knife and wedge it right in between your eyes?”

“… Please, let’s just not do this at all,” the words seemed to clog in my throat. Was this fear? Why was I so afraid of my own son? Though you can hardly call him that now, he’s still the boy I raised for all those years.

Suddenly - hope. Could I out-pace him? The tool box is on the shelf to the right of me, if I rolled towards it in a dash, could I get to it before he—

“Just what the fuck are you thinking?”

The reality of the situation crashed down on me with that sentence. “W-What do you mean-“

“Are you being for real? That sickening face you do when you think you might have a shot at the lottery, or when you find a wallet on the floor — are you being for fucking real?”

He got up in a rage, the chair flying behind him and crashing into the shelves. Boxes moved by the commotion fell down, their contents spilling onto the floor like rain, and among them I saw something - a picture frame.

He must’ve seen it too. He walked over to it, his back completely turned to me, and picked it up.

This is my chance, my brain would say, you can do this if you dash for it now. __ __ Yet my legs wouldn’t move.

He turned back around and I cursed myself for missing that window of opportunity. He was studying that picture really intently, as if he didn’t recognise something in it.

“… this was that day, wasn’t it.”

“After the funeral… the picture we took…”

“…”

He melted onto the floor like ice cream left in the sun, like mud washed away by rain. He got onto his knees, his face in his hands, and seemed to cry.

“Why am I doing this… she wouldn’t have wanted this…”

Again, another chance.

But this time, before I could do anything, he yelled out in an animalistic shriek, before stabbing himself in the leg with frightening intensity.

“…No. I can’t think like that.”

He slowly inched closer to me, dragging his foot scross the ground, a contain of my own blood following him; in front of him.

I backed away - genuine, instinctual fear gripping control of my body - until I hit a wall; nowhere left to run.

He looked upon me, a piteous look projecting like a programmed facial expression, and then sighed.

“The only thing we ever get enough of is love; and the only thing we never give enough of is love.”

“… Why are you saying this now?”

“Simple: I’m going to give you all the love you couldn’t be bothered to give me - in my own way.”

And then, warmth.

How could something so cold feel so warm? My stomach felt as though it had been brushed up against a radiator, yet at the same time its numb with feeling. I can’t feel, I can’t see clearly, and the ringing in my ear is a drowning loud - what is happening to me?

“Now, say hello to Mother for me. I’ll be right behind you.”

You sit next to me, You talk, you laugh, We talk, we laugh, Yet it’s never anything more, Never anything less.

                                                    You walk with me,
                                                But at the same time,
                                          You’re in your own world,
                                 One separate from mine,
                      Miles and miles of distance,
                Covered in the inches that 

Separate us.

A layer of separation, A thin veil of the realisation That I’m not for you, And you’re not for me— That layer, thin as it may be, Stops me from holding your hand From taking your arm And running across hills of Lovestruck green and unrequited blues.

We dance, yet our rhythm is staccato

We sing, yet our harmonies are different,

We walk, yet you’re 2 steps ahead of me

We live, yet you’ll never belong to me.

The sky tasted of sunlight. When you walked by my side, My eyes saw scents, my worries were paperweight, My skin heard the music of the world, opened wide Like a treasure chest, bursting, brimming With walks, talks, ice creams, sunsets, telling A story of what we couldn’t become, Unrequited love under a spiteful sun.

The sky cried in sunlight. It opened its heavenly bowels, Filling my clarity, in hopes I might Feel as light as a monk’s cowl Feel the veil cloak my insecurities As time profounded my anxieties Forboding of what love’s desperation Can do to the walls of my mental fortification.

Your lofe is my sunlight. The oak woods of your eyes held a warmth That sustained, a warmth that I’d fight For, for it shone like my own star up north Shone upon me like revelations of peace Peace you took from me with such cold ease Left me dark and alone, away from my one light, My shadow remained, evidence of your sunlight.

The world could not house your sunlight. The accused you of being dark in their city, Solely because you shone a burning white Only for me, only for my sake, because you loved me, You shone to direct me, you shone to guide me, You left me permanently, left me too quickly, Time rolled in its ranks, now I’m dark and alone You parted from me, your life forsworn, To live without you; a struggle like no other, I breathe in the sunlight; farewell, my almost lover.

“Bro I promise you, this one is the one.”

I looked onto the room, yellow and black tapes all over the floor, officers walking back and forth with officious zeal, as if this was just another work day. I looked st the blood-stained marble, the black chalk outline - the only memento he left behind.

I should’ve realised the first time he introduced me to her. He can be so… so lovestruck, so blinded by the irrelevancies of love, of caring for other people; how could you not have seen?

Why did he not listen to me?

“Sargeant,” someone’s voice brought me back from my train of thoughts, “The detectives have arrived now. They’d like some time without the officers in the building.”

“I already said we didn’t need them; I know who did this.”

“As true as that maybe, Ma’am, it’s their job.”

“… Fine. Call all units to stand down around the perimiter. I want this place on lockdown; no one goes in, no one goes out.”

Begrudgingly, I paced out of the house, catching myself shooting a look at one of the detectives that came in. I know it’s their job — I know — but where do they get off kicking me out of my own home?

What bull.

I sit inside my car, the rain decorating this melancholy I feel. I catch myself looking at the raindrops on my window, watching out for which one would overtake which, like we used to do when we were kids.

“I’m telling you, she’s not who she says she is.”

Why am I remembering that now? I was right — and now he’s dead. I should’ve acted, but he looked so happy, so fulfilled in life; who was I to rob him of such joy?

Then, a shadow from the basement, a light flickering, movement.

Without a second thought, engine roaring, I gave chase.

Walking through those many people I saw You standing all alone on this fine eve I could not help myself, for what I saw A girl most beautiful like none I’ve seen.

You, standing all alone on this fine eve Your velvet coat a shield from all around A girl most beautiful like none I’ve seen Can’t spend an eve like this with naught but sound.

Your velvet coat a shield from all around, You stood there, looking onto cars below, Can’t spend an eve like this with naught but sound, Lest sound became as sweet as your own voice.

You stood there, looking onto cars below, With snow just dancing to your gentle hum Lest sound became as sweet as your own voice All I’d e’er want to hear is what you’d say.

With snow just dancing to your gentle hum, The rhythm of your heart in time with mine All I’d e’er want to hear is what you’d say If I asked you to come back round to mine.

The rhythm of your heart in time with mine, You looked at me with eyes longing to dance, “If I asked you to come back round to mine? Would you?” “Of course, I would.” No shame in that.

You looked at me with eyes longing to dance, Then asked me, “How is it you love me so?” “Would you?” “Of course, I would.” No shame in that, I swore this eve to never let you go.

Confession is my key. It opens the doors of my mind And lets thoughts run free Giving me ample room to find Whatever excuses I can To justify why I ran.

Confession is my door. It closes all room left for doubt Gives security, what I’m looking for, Saves me from the utter drought Of sympathy that surrounds me Sympathy I don’t deserve, really.

Confession is my room. Comfort I feel here is unmatched Ignoring my fate society spins on that loom Giving me a roof of ignorance thatched Over my head, They want me dead.

Confession is my life, A constant attempt at justifying my strife The parts they don’t see, the parts rife With fear, shame, the pain of time’s knife As it draws fresh new lies, playing doom’s fife In my ear, though I hear it through my skin Another layer to hide what’s within.

Free winds gingerly played and rolled over my flowing hair, filling my lungs with unfiltered purity. The sea stretched endless, completely uninterrupted, overpowering the scene as it reached for the horizon, tickling the sky with its colossal waves.

And oh, the sky; an amalgamation of opulence and untainted innocence, with pure white clouds moving with lethargic elegance, decorating the deep orange sky with delicacy and grace. The birdsongs that echoed, bouncing off the clouds like a child’s plaything, moved all the way until they reached me, mixing and combining to make the most sonorous cacophony of music I could’ve asked for, an ensemble of natural beauty that did not need to be seen for it to be felt.

What a day. Truly, what a marvellous day.

The grass beneath my bare feet felt fresh and young, and as I walked towards the edge, I knew a sight like this was one in a million. Below, golden sands rolled over each other in playful harmony, silk-like in motion.

The jagged rocks, mighty fangs of Mother Nature, seemed to welcome a plethora of life; from barnacles to crabs to baby turtles waddling along, full of life, full of potential.

I wonder if they will welcome mine.

I breathed in this moment one last time, even though I knew my mind would never be truly able to grasp it all, and let go.

It was such a wonderful fall-

You’ve left me. Without remorse you took flight Spread your wings in your eye-catching fashion Stretched out and captured the whole world Captured my world, left me with nay but a burn A burning feeling that ripped my heart into Tiny little rainbows everytime I saw your face, Yet now you’re gone And so is your love, withdrawn From me, my kriptonite The blissful pain I felt in seeing you from afar Now I can’t do naught but watch you slip away.

Did you even care? You ripped yourself away from me Like a preschooler rips a bandaid They don’t like the colour of, did I Mean that little to you, little enough For you to be able to fly away from me Without even looking back, back to see Who you were leaving behind, back to feel Some semblance of human emotion, some pity For my lonely person?

You’ve left me. You left me and took my heart with you, You’ve left me, My heart beats only for you, yet you took What was mine, Left me without a second thought, not a time Did you sit and think That maybe I couldn’t bare to live without you, That maybe I’d sink Back into the state I was before you, no, you Simply left me.

_A tear trickled down her eye as she closed _ Yet another chapter of her life. Only difference this time was that it was one _Chapter she was not ready _ To close.

If you could restart your entire life, would you do it?

For me, it wasn’t even a question.

For that reason, when I saw this old book hidden amongst my late grandfather’s boxes, there was no shot in hell I wasn’t about to give it a read. It carried it’s own mesmerising air, like the contents of this book were of some mystical origin.

I sat down on the dusty, weathered sofa of his old parlour. In all fairness, when I was still a kid, he would always talk about Nan and her ‘superstitious little trinkets’, but I’ve never seen one of them till now.

The book looked important - too important to be left in a box in an attic. I wonder why Nan hasn’t done anything with it; maybe grandad was the superstitious one all along?

As I gently dusted its hard leatherback casing, I felt a sharp sensation on the tip of my finger. The book suddenly came alive, as if reacting to my person, and the dull umbre that was the leather reinvigorated into a bright, deep crimson.

My finger felt unnaturally warm, and I looked at it, only to realise I’m bleeding. I didn’t feel panic, however, it was more of a gentle realisation, the way you realise you’re going to be late for work, or that you’re about to miss your train.

I opened the book, and I just sat down and read. I read about the lion eating the sun, about salt, sulphur and mercury, about the gold and the silver, I even read about the “truth” of the world; I read and read till I realised too late that it was almost evening.

I looked at my phone - 21 missed calls from “Mum”, 3 missed calls from “Dad”, and even one from my sister, which honestly shocked me the most. I accepted I’d be finished when I got home from my Nan’s, and continued to read, encapsulated in the contents of this book.

It was addictive to say the least. I didn’t even feel like I understood what I read, yet I couldn’t find myself questioning any of it. I just read and digested till reached the final page, titled “To Live Twice”, a very interesting title for the end chapter of a book, I thought.

What I read next made everything I’ve lived for till then, everything I’ve endured to get to where I was, all the disappointments, the losses, the highs, the lows - all of it felt naught.

It was like I knew exactly what I had to do.

“Why would you come home so late? Your Nan has been worried sick,” my mother sighed as I walked through the door, book clutched tightly in one hand.

I waved her off and took off my shoes, “Sorry about that, I just needed some time to absorb this shock I guess. You know, grieving and all.”

“You hardly knew him,” she began, cutting the cucumbers and throwing them into the salad, “What do you have to grieve about?”

I looked at her, at a loss of words, “You know, you’re a really blunt person, Mum.”

“I get that a lot. Dinner in 20, don’t be late for that one as well.”

“Sure, sure. Oh and, by the way, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could buy sulphur, no?”

She looked at me like I was speaking in Latin, then just shrugged her shoulders and continued making the salad. Well, that was helpful.

I sat down at my desk, pulled out my laptop and did some research. According to the book, the most important things I needed for this to work were 50 grams of salt, which was easy enough to obtain, 66.60 grams of sulphur and 140 millilitres of liquid mercury. Where I’d find those last two I had no idea, and the book also mentioned that the purity is also something that will heavily influence the effectiveness of this potion.

A couple of unfruitful minutes later, I had a moment of common sense just hit me like a truck; mercury is something we experiment with at school, so I’d just need to bottle some up and take it home.

2 down, one more to go.

Finding where I could get some sulphur was nowhere near as simple as I imagined. All the sites I found were either shady or the sulphur looked less like sulphur and more like frozen piss, so it took me a while till I stumbled upon someone selling 99.9% pure sulphur on eBay.

Stroke of luck. Finally.

It’s been a few days, the sulphur should be arriving this evening. I can feel the cold sweat trickle from my brow - am I nervous? Why should I be? There’s no other options for me, regardless; this either works or it doesn’t.

Finally, the ringing of our doorbell breaks that exhausting silence. I rush down and collect the parcel, then run back up to my room before my mum could even call my name.

Alright, we are all set.

Mix water that has been sanctified by an ordained priest with the salt, then the mercury, and then 20ml of fresh dew water. Crush the sulphur into a fine powder together with 50 caterpillar heads, 20 pairs of fly wings, 2 scarab beetles and a drop of your blood to finish it off. Mix the 2 mixtures together in a quartz or marble bowl, and leave in the sun for 20 minutes.

If successful, the mixture should smoothen over into a rich, green colour, with no lumps or bits or whatnot. I stared at that bowl for what felt like years, hoping and wondering wether I really had lost it after grandad died.

Please… just work… __ __ The 20th minute came upon me, yet nothing happened. I felt a tear burn its way across my face.

What was I missing?

I looked through the book again, reading it carefully this time rather than in that state of trance I always fall into while reading it.

Of course it didn’t work - I missed something!

Something that… didn’t make sense?

“What on earth is pixie dust?”

I felt at a loss. Was this whole thing just a big joke? This isn’t a fantasy world where pixie dust existed, right? Whatever, I was too deep into this now to turn back empty handed; I needed to find this so called pixie dust.

I sat down at my desk and thought of what I could do now. How would I go about finding something that isn’t real? Maybe there’s a real life counterpart to a pixie I can use, the way crocodiles are referred to as modern dinosaurs and whatnot.

I searched on that laptop for what felt like the most pointless 50 minutes of my life. I couldn’t find a single lead; everything just led back to fantasy core and ore nonsense that couldn’t be based in any facts. I needed something — something I could look at be certain that what I’m doing isn’t an unironic waste of time.

That’s when I saw it — apparently, pixies were known to have a spiritual connection with horses, riding them and frolicking with their manes, so if I was going to find pixie dust anywhere in the world, it would be in their manes for sure.

Luckily for me, I’ve been doing horse riding since I was like 5 and only did take a break because of an injury; long story short, if pixies are truly real, the best place I could find them in this city would be at the stables my aunt owns.

A careful drive later, I arrived at the stables, greeted my aunt and made a beeline for the horses. I got a pair of scissors, snipped at their manes and grinded the horse hairs into a fine powder. Out of an airtight container, I pulled out the concoction I had earlier. I’m assuming that since I’ve done the 20 minute waiting, all I’d need to do was add the powder and recite the the 5 letter word the book gave me.

I poured it all in, and almost immediately I saw a change in the concoction.

It actually worked, for the love of heaven, it actually worked.

“Alright… **_Vivus.”

_**A small pop escaped the bowl as the concoction fully transformed into a rich green. Without hesitation, I drank that whole thing down and prayed for a miracle.

I closed my eyes, imagining all the things I’d do differently if this potion actually worked. The mistakes I’d amend, the life I’d live, the sorry’s I’d give and the—

Suddenly, my vision went blurry. My mouth foamed like a hot bubble bath, and I clutched my stomach in searing agony. My mind was doing cartwheels in my throat, my heart was beating in my feet and my ears were hearing through my skin.

Was I dying?

I opened my eyes, though I could only see with the clarity of a camera built in the early 19th century. I saw a pair of feet, though they did not touch the ground. However, the shoes I saw we’re unmistakably recognisable.

“Good to see you again, my boy. Now, stand; your life will never be the same again.”**_

_**