Forever Poison

Forever Poison: A Fairy Tale

      It came in a wooden gift box with a metal lid, finely stamped saying: "World Teas." The metal lid slid off and revealed nine compartments within the box, each with different bags of teas: Lemon and honey, spice, green tea, raspberry. The bags were of silken smoothness, fragrant and luxurious.

     It was a gift from many years ago, stuffed deep in the cupboard, forgotten.

     Until now.

    Tanya faintly remembered her mother bringing it home from work many Christmases ago. At the time, neither of them drank tea, and so the box disappeared into the cupboard.

     But now years later, Tanya loved tea. Lately she had been trying more gourmet teas, fancier brands. She inhaled the exotic smells from this old box.

     Wonderful.

     Tonya hummed as the water heated and she checked her phone for the latest news on Facebook. When she placed the delicate tea bag in the hot water the spicy aroma seemed to invade the kitchen room. She took her cup to the living room and sat on the wide couch, grabbing the remote to turn on the TV. One of her favorites, Reality Brides, was on and she sighed as she slumped deeply into the couch.

     Her phone suddenly vibrated from an incoming text. She grabbed the phone and read:

     "Don't drink the tea."

     "What?" she said out loud. She looked around. Who could even know? She looked at her phone. Unknown sender.

     "Nice try," she yelled out to the empty house. "Very funny." She waited. The home creaked emptily. Only the music and narration of the TV filled the void: This bride was about to learn that Prince Charming comes with a price! The music swelled. A commercial brightened the screen.

     She stood up looking around the empty room. She glanced upstairs. Also empty. The windows blinds were all down, but she walked to the window near the door and peeked out into the dark neighborhood street.

     Empty and glistening from a thin, steady rain.

     She hit reply on the text and tapped in: Who is this?

     Almost instantly. Just don't drink the tea.

     She looked over to her cup of tea where it sat on the coffee table, steaming serenely, its spicy smell strangely exotic and wonderfully alluring. She wanted a sip up it so badly. Slowly she walked towards the cup till she leaned over and inhaled the intoxication deeply.

     She forgot about the text. She didn't notice the phone jump as it vibrated to life again. She stared into the swirling dark deep waters of the tea.

     Her phone, the text in CAPS reading: IT'S POISON fell from her limp hand, and mesmerized, she reached for the warm cup, lifted it up.

     She savored the sweet taste, drank deeply. Slowly with a slight shake she set the cup down, a smile brightening her face. Her eyes closed and she fell into deep sleep, her body slumping off the couch and onto the floor.

     A tall man silently entered the room. He wore black leather gloves. He bent over the body, pulling an eyelid open to reveal a wide, glassy eye. He smiled and then picked up the discarded phone. He typed into it: YOU'RE TOO LATE.

     He slid the phone into his pocket, and then bent over and picked up the sleeping girl, picked her up effortlessly and slung her over his shoulder. He walked out the back door of the house, and a moment later the sound of his car accelerating away filled the silent air.

     She slept. For untold years she slept in a dark room where the sun filtered in dustily a few minutes a day and lit her prison room where she lay in a magnificent bed, her long hair spread out, her face unchanged from the day of her disappearance. The room, shrine to her beauty, held her in its neglected embrace.

     Long ago her strange abductor had died. Long ago her would-be rescuer had grown too old for the journey, unable to continue his search for her. Long ago her family had faded away, like she had.

     On she slept, the poisons part of her blood forever. The room grew dustier. Cobwebs creased the corners, stretched around her bed. Cobwebs and dust.

     And on she slept.

     And the sturdy house around her slowly and inevitably slumped and warped under years of sun, as it protected her, imprisoned her. It caved in and became a moss covered mound, a tomb of nature.

     She became a statue, dusty and faded under cobwebs, but beautiful and forbidden. Lonely.

     Waiting.