Potions, Hence Spirits

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
The narrated tale of Roy Finnegan, a lone, arrogant farmer who is visited by his long-dead relatives of the past.

Submitted: March 16, 2016

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Submitted: March 16, 2016



 "Stray away from this place!” the inanimate scarecrows seemed to say, striking fear into the hearts of crows near. Settling on one of the many pieces of farmland was a scrawny, handsome farmer. This man was like any other ordinary farmer; he would treat his crops fairly and with care. He tended to them whenever he felt like they needed to be tended to. Obviously, anyone would assume that this man is just trying to earn some hard-earned cash from something he loves to do. The man is just an ordinary farmer indeed, with nothing to see or catch your eye. However, there are flaws in humans, even in a simple, innocent farmer.

 Unlike the majority of people living on this Earth, he was barbaric and lacked sophistication. The farmer lived the life of a caveman. He never performed the daily routine that other normal people perform. He’s never washed his clothes, taken a shower, or cleaned his house. The only productive things he’s done in his life is eat, sleep, and sit on his sturdy, wooden chair on the porch and admire the elegance of the world. He would often gaze into the sky, thinking about the things that stood of great importance to him. The farmer pondered of the mysteries of space, the myths of the ocean, and, most importantly, the unknown feeling of love. Would he ever be loved? Most likely not, but the man thinks otherwise.

 “Can I not sit here in peace, enjoying the beauty of nature that the world has permitted me to enjoy?” the man would protest, saying this to his close friends and colleagues whenever they questioned his uncivilized lifestyle and behavior. Surprisingly, this response would always work, for no person with a sane mind would ever tamper with the opinions of Roy Finnegan. Of course, thinking differently about Roy’s opinions would often lead to a dramatic increase in his temper.

 The land that Roy owned was massive. Long fields consisting of a large variety of crops spanned across the terrain, and a large house belonging to the farmer was centered in the middle. The two-story house was once painted with a beautiful mixture of blue and white; however, as the long, tiresome years pass by, the color started to diminish. The house was no longer attractive, and the crops located in the area are disgusted by its bland, ugly appearance. Attached to the front of the house was a large porch, the same porch that Roy occupied for the majority of his life. The wooden chair that Roy sits on is located on the left side, and beside it is a tiny table composing of a small can of soda and an ashtray.

 “It’s a beautiful day out,” Roy mumbled, slipping a cigarette into his dry lips. The revving of an engine was heard from far away, and Roy sighed. His sister Addy, a skinny, sophisticated and hard-working citizen, has come from the city to visit him. Again, an ordinary person would immediately start cleaning up their home when a visitor would come. Sadly, Roy Finnegan surely doesn’t. He is known to be a great example of a human being who lacks sophistication! When a person criticizes him for not having it, Roy simply doesn’t care! May you be reminded again, he’s careless! No insult nor complaint will change him; nothing can.

 A yellow cab arrived, dragging its poor, dirty wheels along the dusty road. An unlucky predicament has arrived for the car, unfortunately. It had just been washed before Addy beckoned for it to come to her, and now dust has accumulated on every inch of the poor cab. Its newly-cleaned wheels were now useless sacks filled with air, covered with muck on the outside. Addy, who normally wore a dress and heels, now fitted herself with a white, short-sleeved shirt, blue jeans, brown boots that ascended to the halfway point of her shins, and a baseball cap.

 “Hello, Roy,” Addy said calmly, climbing up the stairs. Roy stared at her angrily, knowing that she had disturbed him in his time of peace. “What do you want, Addy?” Roy spat. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

 Addy confidently stepped in front of him, blocking his view and angering him even more. “Addy!” Roy continued to cry, whining like a child.

 “Roy, I don’t want you to do this anymore! You’re smoking, throwing your trash all over the porch, and God knows what you do inside that house!” Addy complained. Roy replied furiously, “You think I haven’t heard those words comin’ out of other people’s lips? You’re not the only one, Addy, and there’s no way you can convince me to change!”

 “Don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” Addy protested. “You’re almost thirty-two, and you don’t even know what it means to respect other people! You’re my brother, which makes me sad because you’re the most ignorant person I know! You don’t care about anyone, not even your own family!”

 Roy quickly emerged from his chair and screamed with hatred. “I just want to be alone! Can’t you see that? I don’t care about how dirty I am or how rude I am! The only reason why I don’t want to do the things you expect me to do is because I want to be alone! Just leave me alone!”

 Addy, with tears rolling down her cheeks, pulled her gazing eyes away from Roy and headed for the stairs. She then walked towards the cab and grasped onto the handle of the door. Roy was still standing where he was, staring at his sister as she prepared for her departure. Addy paused then turned around, facing the porch where Roy stood.

 “Our father died, Roy,” Addy yelled with sadness in her voice, the tears still streaming down her face. “His funerals being held this Sunday. Not like you wanted to come anyway.” Addy has realized how stupid she was for even trying to invite her brother, knowing his absence in the past. She was brave enough to try, but she should’ve known better. Addy entered the cab, and Roy’s face was full of anguish as he watched it slowly drive away.

 Thoughts of his father flooded Roy’s mind, and he noticed that he was crying, too. Roy had come to the realization of his messed-up lifestyle and personality. He had remembered the wrongs that he had done and the people he insulted and ignored. Roy had never lived the normal life of a person, and now he wants to. He wanted to be sophisticated. Kind. Generous. All of the traits that a person had, he wanted. Roy also wanted to build a prison. A prison strong enough to contain all the anger, the hatred, and the ignorance that lurks deep inside him. He wanted to change. Roy needed something; something that will never allow him to become the same, ungrateful person he is now.

 Roy needed to change.

 Several minutes had passed, and finally, after countless years of daydreaming and gazing at the sky, a miracle had occurred. What a wonderful miracle this was! It was a miracle that no person would have imagined until after the depressing days of Roy Finnegan’s life were over.

 He had begun to clean his house. Roy organized his furniture, wiped his windows, and repainted new layers over the old blue and white. During the long, untold hours that had conceded, Roy was still cleaning up his house, eliminating any trace of dust placed in every crack, every shimmy, and every small, little opening.

 With only one sentence slithering out of Addy’s mouth, Roy’s personality had changed. If you would pause and just think about it for a long second, you would also think that it’s truly strange. An ordinary farmer with a filthy lifestyle and vulgar attitude has now changed into an ordinary farmer with a changed lifestyle and changed attitude. He was no longer the old Roy Finnegan; the man has now become the new Roy Finnegan - repaired, refurbished, and rebuilt into the next product. Like a sequel to a movie, as you should think.

 However, not all sequels live up to the greatness that the original achieved, for the original, if done right, would dazzle the audience. And although adding to its story would further have the viewer delve deeper into its mysterious world, there is a chance that it will crumble. Piece by piece. Many want to ensure that their sequel is done right; they want to ensure that it will live up or be equal to the greatness that the original achieved.

 But let’s not dwell on that topic. The point is, will the new Roy Finnegan achieve the equal status of popularity as the old, possibly even greater? The answer is pretty obvious, and it’s not like the old Roy was popular anyway. He probably wasn’t even known at all!

 Roy quickly wiped the dust that lay still on the calendar hanging on the wall. Taking a long examination of the calendar, further detailed as a large, bland piece of white paper with dashes of black letters and lines, he began to puzzle about the long, amount of time that he hasn’t touched the thing. He had just removed the dust off of it, and it wasn’t easy nor was it hard. So obviously, he hasn’t touched it in a long while.

 He noticed the faint outline of a word, in which due to his absence of caring for it, the word’s elements have began to fade. The black color slowly fused with the white background of the calendar as the days progressed and passed by. But fear not, faithful reader! Roy hasn’t given up hope yet in his perilous journey to solve the mystery of the diminishing word. Although the word was almost naked to a man’s eye, it still had some of its clothes on.

 The word revealed December. The month of Christmas Day, the month before New Year’s Day, and the month of joy. It was then that Roy noticed the other word on the top left corner of the calendar. That word was the year.

 No wonder why it’s body was riddled with dust! It’s been eight years since Roy even touched the darn thing! And his eyes were set on the one square, the square that remained in the same status of dead as its fellow brothers, the month and the year. Roy’s red, teary eyes were set on the day of the twenty-fifth. Christmas Day. The last moment he’s spent time with his family, before shutting them out with his newly-found arrogance.

 That was eight years ago. It was now October, and now that his father has died, Roy wants to find the key that he’s abandoned for so long, open that door, and no longer shut them out. He longs to spend time with his family once more, this time with his newly-found change of personality.

 So, the month is now October. His father’s funeral is being held this Sunday, and today is Monday. Roy has exactly a week to become even greater than what the old Roy ever was. This sequel must completely burn down the original and turn it to ash. Until then, he has a long way to go.

 Yay! Excitement! New things to explore! But boo! Sadness! More things to go in depth about! I will proceed to shut up now, as you wished for me to do ages ago. Enough of my dilly-dallying, let’s begin.

 Roy continued to gaze upon the one square with anguish and perplexion. The anguish being the thoughts of his family, and the perplexion being the thoughts of the amount of time that he hasn’t spent with his family. His father was gone, and the friendship he had with Addy, even though they were siblings, has shattered. What would she be thinking about him right now? Roy’s mind began to wander, with the burning feeling of rage and grief gnawing at his slowly decaying heart. His imagination was a bit too wild, for he began to think about all of the insults his sister would be throwing at him right now. Very harsh, these words were since he contained a cruel and ill-stricken vocabulary. A cacophony of insults, shouts, and screams soon roared in Roy’s head, each of the words imagined with Addy’s cold voice. It was no longer utopia for the thoughts of Roy Finnegan, whose imagination slowly broke apart bit by bit, piece by piece, and block by block. No, it surely wasn’t; the support beams of his mind have been detached, and the roof all comes tumbling down with a loud boom. No one can help him now. Chaos has broken out upon this utopia, like the fictional Atlantis sinking into the sea.

 Then the doorbell suddenly rang. Order has been established into Roy’s mind as quick as a flash. The thoughts of Addy’s insults stopped, and his wild imagination was extinguished. Turning his head around from the calendar towards the door, the feeling of joy swept across his face. “Addy?” Roy cried. He excitedly ran down the hallway, keeping his eyes on the door with content. Once he was there, he slowly turned the knob and prepared for what was going to emerge from the outside. Smiling with delight, Roy swung it open.

 No one was there. Roy sighed, with the feeling of sadness overcoming the joy that once swept across his face. He expected Addy, and he got nobody instead. He began to slowly close the door until he noticed something sitting on the doormat. It was, after further observation, a glass potion, with a blue, unknown liquid inside it. Roy picked it up, not knowing where it came from or what it is. His keen eyesight also detected an envelope sitting beside the potion bottle, so he picked it up, opened it, and soon grasped onto a large, white note with the words written in black ink.

 Dear Roy Finnegan,

 I am terribly sorry for sending this to you right now, but time is at the essence! I understand all of the drama that you’ve had with your sister, and especially the unfortunate death of your loving father. But let’s get on with it. Who am I, you may ask? Well, that is the question of the day isn’t it? Sadly, I am not able to tell you as of now, for things are best-kept secret in these types of situations. Beside this note as you may have hopefully noticed is a potion. Now don’t worry! It isn’t anything dangerous! I can assure you that, or else sue me. After you read this letter, you must drink it. This isn’t a decision you must make. You have to do it. Whether you like it or not. I know you have a lot of questions, but I must leave them unanswered for the time being, I’m terribly sorry! You’ll see why in a jiffy, that is if you actually drink it. Oh, and one more thing! Do not take little sips! I mean it! Imagine I said that in big bold words! Anyway, enough of my rambling. Just drink the potion, I beg of you! This to you may seem like a random stranger pestering you with a favor, but I can prove that I’m not. Nor am I some lousy, pathetic stalker. Oh no, I am much more than that. Drink it and you’ll see. This isn’t just for me and my needs, it’s also for yours, too.

 Sincerely, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 “What do a stranger and his sorcery have to do with my needs?¨ Roy muttered to himself, closing the door shut. He brought the mysterious potion up to his face and stared at it with interest and fear. Should the writer be lying, it would be a handful of poison ready to engage at his gullible and weak body. Should the writer not, then Roy’s needs would be fulfilled. It really is a life or death situation. Live the rest of his life in solitude, or take the potion.. with a risk of dying.

 Roy calmly strolled over to the living room, where he sat on the rickety couch with the potion still in hand. ¨This better be worth my time.¨ Roy said, deciding on whether to drink it or not. ¨But hey, I got nothin’ else to live for.¨ Snickering, he pulled the brown cap off of the potion and quickly gulped down the contents of the bottle. As he continued to drink the potion, a cold sensation filled Roy’s throat with pleasure. As of its taste, it wasn’t that of anything from this world; it tasted light, refreshing, and mysterious - like drinking ice-cold lemonade on a hot, summer afternoon. It exploded with flavor, giving him a big kick in his mouth, and the yearn for more of the drink was unending.

 But it’s aftereffect, sadly, wasn’t so much. Roy immediately dropped the bottle after savoring so much of it and passed out. His mind felt like it was turned to mush, and the living natural world around him has turned to pitch black.

 ..Was he dead? Maybe. Maybe not. It’s a strange thing, really, being dead. Can you think while you’re dead? Because that was what he was thinking about right now. A flood of questions filled the curious mind of Roy once more, and he couldn’t feel his entire body. The little nerves of his brain refused to make contact with any part of his body, and all he could do is think and.. float? Stand? Lay on the ground? Another question has popped up. Oh, goody!

Ten minutes of thinking has passed, with Roy still unknowingly pondering the sacred commodity of life known as death.


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