The year 2018:

I was on the cheapest flight I could possibly get to Romania. The attraction to the capital city of this country had stemmed from my study of Art. In most of my lectures at the University of Michigan, the lecturers would talk about Picasso and Da Vinci for days on end. I began to get bored with the same old Art and artists. I started my research on international artists. I had never heard of the famous Romanian artists Nicolae Tonitza or Stefan Luchian. Their artwork as original and as fascinating as those I studied at Ann Arbor.

Getting to Romania had been a trek in itself. My road trip to New York City had been exhausting and very time-consuming. The drive had taken about 15 hours as I had stopped at various points for about 3 hours in total. But it was all worth the hassle as I knew the benefit in the long run. As soon as I got to NYC, I ate breakfast and made my way to JFK international airport. The flight from NYC to Bucharest took about 13 hours in total. My patience was wearing thin at this point, but my fascination was more significant. When I finally reached the hotel at 19:30, I collapsed onto the bed. The next thing I knew, it was 10:38am. I had slept for about 15 hours.

I had a shower, got dressed and went out the door ready to explore this country without actually leaving the city. I had brunch at Frudisiac and then roamed the streets. I happened to bump into individuals who spoke English. They directed me to the art gallery where I got to see the artwork that inspired me to travel a good thirty-five hours. The atmosphere within the walls of the gallery was a multitude better than at the university. I was happy for once in my life.

Art had been something I studied before. It became something I lived by. A hobby, a pastime. Being, held a new, better meaning. I had something to live for. It was after this discovery I decided to stay in Romania for a month longer. Although my vacation was supposed to be two weeks, I asked my university if I could get two weeks extra. My excuse had been to finish off my study on a particular piece of art. I was granted an extra couple of weeks.

I had the best few weeks of my life. I made friends; went clubbing. I had experienced a lifestyle I could only dream of in Ann Arbor. My life there was uninteresting and tedious. Here I appreciated life. I wanted to live forever with these people and the art galleries.

About a week before the end of my holiday, I spent some time exploring the markets. I searched for souvenirs that reflected the fantastic time I had in this underrated city. I found a rare pendant for my mother and a traditional Romanian shirt for my father. As a token to highlight my travel, I searched for the best shop where I could find Art.

On a steep road at the corner of a deserted street, my eye caught sight of the perfect framed photo. The color and exquisite details of the painting were beautiful, despite the image being gory. Tears came to my eyes. The beauty was so exhilarating. I walked into the shop, absolutely sure I would buy the painting.

The interior of the store was quite different from what was advertised on the glass. The lighting dim and ominous. At the desk stood an eccentric-looking woman. Her hair striped white and gray, yet her face and body were youthful. Her clothes billowing even though there was no wind in the humid room. Her head wrapped with a silky baroque patterned cloth; her white dress and the bulk of gold around her neck weirdly suited. The juxtaposition between the thin material of her clothing and heavy jewellery stark; it looked magnificent.

The content of the store had nothing to do with art. Instead, it had ornaments of the supernatural, orbs; large crucifixes. Suddenly, a ghostly hand touched my back and began speaking. I jumped back petrified. The trill of her voice causes a chill to run down my spine. I couldn’t understand what she was talking about, so I got out my phone and translated her voice. It first said: Pot să-ți ofer ceva ce îți dorești, dar nimeni nu este conștient că îl dorești așa de rău. Bea asta și dorința ta se va împlini. Then it translated it so I could understand. “I can offer you something you desire, but no one is aware you want it that bad. Drink this, and your wish will come true.” I laughed and said in an intentionally bad English accent,” I am not interested, ma’am.”

As I was about to leave the store, she says in perfect English- “Mia, I know what your biggest wish is and if you take this potion, you will become immortal.” I stayed in the store. My feet felt like they were cemented to the ground. The woman’s proposal was so absurd I decided to listen to what she had to say.

To my surprise, she held my hand and pulled me further into the store. The back of the store had the most illegal items in the world from caged bootleg animals to the most dangerous medicinal drugs. Amongst them was the potion she was offering. Deep down, I knew I wanted to be immortal as I could live on to make art and see it become popular. I would be rich forever. I then said to her,” surely, I would age even if I am immortal.”

She replied,” This potion not only gives you nemurire but it also gives you everlasting youth and beauty. Underestimating her promise, I bought the potion and drank it.

The year 2118:

The witches potion not only worked but it gave me the life I had dreamt about. In terms of age, I am 120 years old. Over the years my art career took off and I am currently the most affluent and influential artist alive. My beauty is reserved as if I have been frozen and I have not aged even an inch from when I was 20. I am good friends with Codruța Mihai, the witch that gave me the gift of nemurire. She is still alive to this day as she is the first to drink the potion of immortality.