'Elixir'

My eyes snapped open and I gripped the quilt. What was it? What was it?

I leered into the face, squinting.

My heart skipped a beat, as I realised the faces around me were those of the owners.

Why were they angry, I hear you ask?

Heh, now that's a story.

It all started on one of my early morning walks through the forest. When you are as old as me, your limbs often seize up, so regular walks are a necessity. Anyway, it was on this particular morning that i happened to stumble across a quaint little cottage hidden among the trees. I stood still for a moment and observed it, the wind whistling through the trees and the door creaking open. At any other time, I would not have ventured inside, but my eyes fell on something within that caged my interests.

The house was built as a cottage, with delicate wooden furniture and aroma of breakfast, but the family sitting at the table were unlike anyone I had seen before, if they were even human.

Creeping closer, I peeped through the window to see if my eyes had deceived me, my heart thudding against my ribs. The family I saw had fur for faces, claws for hands and were twice the size of anyone I had come across in the village.

They were not human, yet together they sat, united by what I observed to be three wooden bowls. Frozen to the spot, partially by fear, but mostly by curiosity, I found myself wondering what kind of concoction resided within. Some kind of elixir, perhaps? The secret to immortal life? Forgetting my morning walk and the searing pain from my limbs, I calculated the numerous possibilities over and over in my mind, knowing very well that the existence of such a thing was impossible.
I could not wonder for long, for soon they began to move, great shuffling movements in the darkness of the room. Wincing, I fell to my knees and watched as the clawed beasts disappeared into the forest. Their lumbering footsteps seemed to last for an eternity, but finally they ended and I realised that now was my chance. Now I would know what mysteries the creatures held.

With a trembling hand I pushed open the front door, trying my hardest to ignore the riveted claw marks that had replaced all other decoration. In the dim light of the room I could make out the shadowy forms of furniture - a cuckoo clock in the corner, tattered rug underneath. My attentions were most focussed, however, on a table in the corner decked with a threadbare cloth. I approached cautiously, barely daring to breathe. The three wooden bowls loomed in front of me, threatening to scream the truth of my intrusion if I only got too close.

When I was within reaching distance, I picked up a small gold spoon from the centre of the altar, taking in the sweetened smells evaporating from around me. Timidly, I dipped the spoon into the first bowl and then froze. What if this was some kind of trap? What if I had been drawn there purposefully?

I knew I should have left, but deep within I knew that I would not. Where is the joy in a wrinkled face, limbs that barely function? I yearned to be young again and in that moment of dire desperation believed that the pots in front me had to hold some kind of answer.

Taking a spoonful from the first bowl, I put it to my lips and immediately squealed in pain as the liquid burned my skin and throat in unison. I choked, dropping the spoon to the dust and gripping the side of the table. It seemed I was correct to be timid.

After I regained my temperament, I gazed down at the second bowl. This one was just as humble as the first, except with the subtle difference of a silver spoon. Filling the spoon, I put it to my lips, only to be proved wrong once again. This potion was sweet and sugary, but I have never been a great lover of sweet things and promptly vomited to the floor.

My grip on the table was still strong as ever and I dragged myself back into a standing position once more. There was just one bowl left, just one. It was the same size and shape as the previous two, but adorned with an iron spoon. I half expected the third to be filled with poison - I stood there for a while, gripping the edge of the table and waiting, but nothing happened.

Nothing. No change, no consequence. Just regular porridge. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. All that worry over three bowls I could have made better myself. The owners of the cottage still had not returned and by now I was beginning to remember my limbs. Gripping the table so tightly was a bad idea indeed, for now I could barely move my arm from the pincer grip I had put it into.

From my position by the table, I could see a small flight of stairs, leading to what I assumed to be the bedrooms. I noticed that the woodwork was adorned with yet more claw marks, but by this point, my joints screamed for rest and I climbed them without fear.

There was just one room at the top of the landing, filled with a single bed. The blanket covering it was frayed in several places, scratched on the exposed wood. Laying my head on the pillow and taking in the musty scent of fur, I wondered what kind of creatures lived here, crawling into dreams where I was lost in the tombs of Babylon, running from the beasts we left to guard the King.

My eyes snapped open, yes, I remember now. The moment I woke, I was the subject of three pairs of eyes, eyes I had no intention of staring into. I had slept for two long, now I was no longer a simple ‘curious guest’ - I was an intruder.

They watched me, beasts with human faces, as I climbed out of the bed, expecting to fall but instead landing softly on the floor. Watched me knowingly as I stared down at my hands, no longer hands, now paws of the same clawed frame as theirs. They watched, almost amused, as I stroked my paws over my face, finding fur instead of skin. Had they been human, I’m almost sure they would have laughed as I howled in horror and ran from the cottage, knocking over their porridge bowls as I went.

An Elixir for a poison, trade fairly met.