'The Amazing Elixir'

One might consider my story a fairy tale-it seems illogically fantastical and cautionary, with a clear lesson to learn. I’m sorry to say that this isn’t one of those. It all started I guess ‘once upon a Thursday morning, February, 2018. I’ll never forget that day, or the days that followed.

I was a proud and easy-going father of two beautiful girls at the time, Hannah, 8, and Chloe, 7. As the manager for a diner now derelict and dead, I was what you might call a ‘workaholic’. My wife, Cindy, was the one who spent the most time with our daughters, and I was always the distant one in the family, never having enough time to spare other than the weekends and, well, now. Fortunately, my staff and co-workers were always there to support me when she couldn’t, being a carer who was well-used to dealing with lonely, tired and often stressed people. I loved my job, but I loved my daughters more than life itself. Despite my efforts, the place wasn’t as popular anymore, with new food chains and restaurants opening everywhere in Topeka, Kansas, stealing away many of our former diners. We knew we wouldn’t have long left, so my efforts slowed down and I started to collect my earnings, dreading the day of closure upon us.

But there was an upside-I didn’t always have to spend as much time working there, meaning I could finally and fully prepare for the first time, in advance, for Hannah’s birthday on the 15th. Prior to the diner’s dying days, Cindy would have to suggest a present she found herself and I’d purchase it, but I never got to pick out something for their birthdays. I was so irresponsible, so lazy and so pathetic, that I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to finally decide for myself what my little girl would open up on that morning. ''Something I’d chosen. Something she’d love and adore.''

When I arrived at the toy store on the Monday afternoon, with little time to choose and hide it from prying eyes, my attention almost immediately drifted to something in one of the corner stalls. It wasn’t a huge place, but an ordinary, dimly lit, traditional toy store clustered with LEGO sets, stuffed animals, plastic guns and swords, action figures, dolls etc. But that glistening golden bottle, sitting tucked away in the far right corner of the shop behind a shiny jack-in-the-box and a Jenga set (the place wasn’t well-organized), caught my eye. With the shop bustling with fellow parents and some toddlers, I didn’t hesitate to stride over and pull out the gleaming flask.

On the front, in a sparkly, spiral, neon pink font was written ‘The Amazing Elixir’ on a crimson-red sticker, surrounded by silver sequins and a tagline ‘helpfully heals and carefully cures’, but no other text other than another sticker saying ‘Suitable for all ages’ and a clarification that it came as part of a ‘brewing set’, presumably for kids. What had struck me as odd wasn’t just the absence of any company name or logo, and the contents being nothing more than what seemed to be water filled with golden spheres, was the absence of any packaging information or ingredients. There was no indication as to whether it was consumable or not, just blemishes of random text on the back such as ‘curs’ and ‘ference’.

Focus, I’d said to myself, won’t be here long...It was apparently part of a ‘potion-brewing set for young witches and wizards’. Hannah loved magic, witches and even chemistry at an early age, and there was little else in the store I could see through the crowds as I glanced around hoping to find something more legitimate in time. I was desperate to get my hands on whatever I could as quick as possible.

Intrigued, I’d asked the elderly, heavily tanned shopkeeper about the product. “Ahem-apologies sir, but there doesn’t appear to be any such brewing set that you described” he coughed out with a tone of mock sympathy. “I did, however, find a children’s cauldron and chemis-oh...sorry, alchemy set that bears some resemblance to what you asked for”. “That’ll do. It’s fine-as long as it’s in good condition, that’s all I care about. I’m just curious as to why there’s no ingredients information on the bottle.” I asked sternly, steering the subject towards the mysterious nature of the ‘toy’. “Would you mind if I take a quick-” “Yes, yes, yes-just please don’t be long. I’m in a bit of a hurry.” I answered impatiently. A quick glance at my watch affirmed I didn’t have much time. The girls would be home soon from school.

I noticed the golden figure’s eye’s twitch as he glanced lazily over the back of the bottle, as though something brushed against his face, blurting out several more coughs. The bored expression he maintained changed briefly to what may have been a toothy grin to himself that spread across his faintly golden face, but I doubted anything was wrong with the product-he didn’t seem concerned, so I didn’t feel as though I ought to be either; he did, however, seem to unscrew the cork on the top and take a small sip of the liquid before murmuring something to himself, something I couldn’t make out; the language didn’t seem familiar from what I’d picked up from staff, customers, school and TV. But I didn’t want to make a fuss. Nutter’s probably just testing it...Just clean it when you get home I thought, Hannah won’t notice.

“Everything seems fine to me,” he wheezed. “It looks like it’s been here a while. We take in all sorts of stuff, you know. The info’s probably just faded away over time. Just to be safe, I’d recommend using just what comes with this kit. Better to be safe than sorry!”

He shoved the vial, a small, matte black cauldron and a brightly coloured box of ‘Cool Chemicals and Crazy Compounds!’ into a plastic bag. “Thanks” I mumbled absent-mindedly as I scurried out of the store, the wheezing coughs of the shopkeeper drowned out by the crowds. I didn’t have time for that old guy to prattle on any further, even if he was finished giving advice. I couldn’t miss this opportunity. I needed to see the look on my daughter’s face of joy and delight from me, and to overcome the jealousy I’d always harboured for Cindy. I would be just as responsible as her. I felt I needed to prove it to not just her, but my girls as well.

Finally the big day came, with my gift having being carefully wrapped and hidden behind my bedside table, bearing a smug grin across my face as I looked back at my wife, just starting to wake up on that chilly morning. I’d wrapped each present neatly, including the cauldron and the chemistry set (taken out of the box to not ruin the illusion), with ‘The Amazing Elixir’ wrapped separately, hidden near the bottom of the gift bag. I could hear Hannah’s high pitched squeals as she dashed down stairs with a yawning Chloe, and again in response to the sight of the presents we laid out all over the floor the evening prior. Cindy and I exchanged satisfied looks as we joined them downstairs by the sofa, Chloe slumping on the armchair and Hannah in the centre, wide-eyed.

“Would you like to open ours first Hannah? Mom and I-” “‘Put a lot of time and effort into getting these’, yes I know Dad.” She responded with a smile. I edged closer to her than Cindy, surprised at my proactive behaviour, and handed Hannah the bag.

She loved the cauldron, she liked the chemistry set but her reaction to the supplementary present was quite odd. The bottle sat in her palms, the label shimmering in the sunlight, as she held it close to her face, acting unusually inquisitive. Overly-curious, I guess you could say. Wasn’t too weird, but I was just worried she didn’t like it.

“Do you like everything, sweetie? Is everything alright?” I asked, noticing Cindy’s anxious look.

No response. Hannah just sat there, staring at it. It wasn’t like her at all. She was always very grateful from a very young age, and to see her almost glazing over was disturbing. Her hand was shaking as she held it, with a weak, dreamy grin plastered on her face.

Then I’d noticed Hannah starting to unscrew the cork, her pupils fixed on the watery liquid inside. “Hannah, don’t drink it honey! It’ll make you very, very sick! Just put the top back on...” Cindy warned. Hannah had taken no notice of her pleas, and after removing the cork, started to tip the contents onto her lips and into her mouth, and we lunged forwards.

I ran her mouth under the tap, as Cindy softly scolded Hannah, as though she were a kitten who’d scratched a guest. There was no trace of the liquid, and I prayed to God she hadn’t swallowed any of it. Maybe she just didn’t hear her properly. I thought. ''She’s tried to eat clay before. Kids often do crap like this. It’s just Hannah being Hannah.''

Hannah was fine for the rest of the day, and when we asked her about it, she just mumbled something about not hearing Cindy, and we responded naturally by reminding her not to lie. She wouldn’t speak clearly, as though she feared telling the truth like she would get in trouble. “We’re not angry with you,” I insisted to her sulking face “We’re just trying to keep you safe and healthy, okay? Tell us when you’re using it, and we’ll make sure it’s safe, okay Hannah?” She nodded.

Cindy kept the bottle on her bedside cabinet for the rest of the day, so I was obviously startled in the morning to find it in Chloe’s the next morning while cleaning up.

It was just over half empty.

We immediately confronted Chloe, who behaved exactly as Hannah had-defensive, quiet and refusing to give us a straight answer as to why it was half empty. Cindy rushed the two to the doctors, fearing they’d drank their share of the stuff, with the two having the convenient habit of sharing things with each other, which wasn’t as admirable as it was before. Cindy came home with the two, letting of little more than a sigh of relief and an expression of severe tiredness. I wasn’t satisfied with this.

“Hannah, come here.” I said, anger in my voice as I raised the flask to her innocent face. She had looked so confused, and understandably so-I’d never had to raise my voice like this to her. “Hannah, listen to me very carefully-do not drink this. Don’t start dragging Chloe into this either! Stop it, alright! You’re a big girl now, an-“ “But Dad, I c-couldn’t help it. I was th-thirsty. My throat was s-so dry. I had to d-drink it, Dad. I h-had to. Pleas-” she whimpered.

“ENOUGH HANNAH!” Cindy screamed. “STOP LYING TO US! This isn’t like you! You’re a good girl!”

And with that, Hannah had dashed upstairs, crying softly. Chloe had sat silently in the armchair, head in her hands. Cindy took the bottle, and put it high on the furthest kitchen shelf in the corner, above their nimble fingers, and then stormed out. She’d left me, standing there, gazing at the flashing flask. I remember being nervous, fearful for my family. The shopkeeper, he took a sip too, I nearly took a sip and they drank half the damn bottle I thought.

I’d attempted that Friday after work to try and research about ‘The Amazing Elixir’ product, and found nothing useful but the definition as some sort of ‘magical medicine’, so I reasoned as a product clearly marketed for children it wouldn’t be too harmful, especially with such a title, but I still had my doubts. Cindy reassured me that night that the doctor found that there were no ‘serious symptoms’ he’d observed, but had recommended another check-up on the Saturday morning since he’s noticed their throats were unusually dry, Cindy commenting that they had dry coughs all the way home until she stopped to buy drinks that they accepted eagerly. I stayed awake nearly all night, checking on Chloe and Hannah constantly, listening for coughs, but none came.

''I shouldn’t have been so impulsive buying that crap. Damn stupid. So stupid and irresponsible.''

I’d returned to the kitchen for a coffee, when my eyes again drifted to the vial hiding on top of the mahogany shelf. It was mesmerising; the sparkles of light reflecting of the sequins and globes of gold shining in the darkness. I’d felt it again, that night. That urge, the craving to drink it, like I somehow became certain it was the most thirst-quenching, delicious, tastiest liquid that I needed as much as air.

Drink it.

I’d remembered brushing it off, trying to think clearly, but all I could think about was the concoction that almost seemed to bubble as I edged nearer.

Just a sip.

It was in my hand, the neon font contrasting against the dull peach of my skin in the dimly lit room.

Drink it.

I was unscrewing the cork, and I raised it to my lips, tipping the bottle.

Drink it all.

The taste was unimaginable-sour and sweet and bitter, then sour again. It felt runny like treacle, yet not sticky and thicker than water. I felt 'quenched', yet still thirsty. It was so addictive, and I was so thirsty.

“D-Dad? W-What are you doing?” said a small, hoarse voice. Hannah’s voice, yet not like hers at all.

In the doorway I saw Hannah. Despite the dim light, I noticed something wasn’t right about her. Hannah’s normally tanned skin was darker, but seemingly shinier. Her face and hands were golden and wrinkled.

“H-Hannah?” I whispered.

“H-Honey? Are you alright? I d-don’t...” said another voice. Cindy’s voice, but not as warm or motherly. It sounded painful, but most of all, very, very dry.

My face contorted into one of fear as I saw too that my wife was also aged and golden. She wasn’t as bad as Hannah, or Chloe, who I’d noticed was lurking behind Cindy, groggy and the doppelgänger of her sister. The girls looked like they’d been deep-fried, while my wife looked like she was covered head to toe in yellowish-orange paint.

We had stood there silent for what had felt like hours before Cindy slowly took the bottle and placed it back again on the top shelf. As she walked past the kitchen mirror with the girls in tow, I’d noticed at that moment that none of their reflections bared the wrinkly golden skin, and they never seemed to question their noticeably slower walking speeds, especially for the girls.

Saturday morning had arrived and I was stunned to discover the bottle by my bedside, now nearly empty. Swear she left it on the shelf I thought. I had struggled to sit up and jumped at the sight of my own hands, which were as sagging and old as my wife’s. I heard footsteps thump downstairs before an eye-piercing cry of terror fully woke me. As I tried to race down the stairs I’d groaned in agony as my spine ached, but I continued and let out a dry cough.

On the living room floor was Cindy crouched over the bodies of Hannah and Chloe, all three of them coughing heartily, with blank eyes and expressions.

Cindy had screamed for me to call an ambulance, us both fearing the worst, which I did without hesitation. By the time they arrived, they started wheezing in between coughs. They were laid in beds at the local hospital with respirators, the doctors and nurses alarmed by their skin, as well as Cindy’s, and mine...

It’s been two days since Saturday the 17th and they’re still there, the doctors still trying to diagnose an exact illness, baffled by the series of symptoms they’ve developed and the effects on their ‘osmoregulatory system’ and whether it’s a single disease or a combination. Me and Cindy fear for our lives almost as much as theirs, since we too are told we look like our daughters, but not in the normal complimentary way. The bottle’s vanished too-no idea where it’s gone. I’m watching over them in their ward, and I know it won’t be long before I’ll be in a similar position. As I briefly look away, I catch a glimpse of a familiar face-the shopkeeper, walking down the furthest corridor. He turns to look at me, and I gasp in horror.

This isn’t the shopkeeper I’d met on Thursday.

His skin is a perfect peach and pristine, giving off a more youthful image, but his identity still remained.

No coughing. No wheezing. Nothing. He’s...younger.

As the truth dawns on me, he gives me a sinister smile, baring chalk-white teeth and a flicker of light in his eyes, before walking calmly off, out of sight.