The Essence (Part three of three) (standard:mystery, 1408 words) [3/3] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Jan 03 2009	Views/Reads: 2452/1685	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Conclusion of my three part story which sees a cyclist seeking refuge from a snowstorm, finding himself in a village inhabited by strange people and an even stranger potion.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

of his congregation, circling me, their latest convert. 

But somewhere inside, in a tiny hollow the intruder hadn't reached
something stirred. I saw a face; I'd been going somewhere, seeing 
someone – only – 

The green liquid they called the essence had been on my lips, enticing
me in its irresistible way – but not any more. 

Something ignited within, provided by the spark from the hollow. I
hurled the jug against the bar, dived out the door just as the two 
thugs from the smallholding came through carrying further supplies of 
the essence. 

At this stage I should point out that I am a driver, just not a very
good one, especially in the snowy conditions that now prevailed. 

However the sight of the keys in the Jeep's transmission was nectar to
my eyes – my escape route, as slithering and sliding down a deserted 
main street I made good my escape in the only vehicle in the area 
capable of negotiating the conditions. 

As I drove out of the village that one segment of my mind still
operating seemed to be stretching out, guiding me through a route 
becoming increasingly familiar. 

Donna's place was little more than a mile away now. I knew I was late,
just how late I wasn't sure, but soon to find out. 

I'd parked the Jeep at the far end of her village, in a recess by the
fish pond, mindful that the vehicle wasn't mine and that despite the 
thugs' dubious nature in effect I'd still stolen it. Not wanting any 
retribution lying at Donna's door I trudged through the snow, the half 
mile or so to her cottage. 

Even as I opened the gate she'd opened her door, arms outstretched,
‘Nick what's happened, where've you been. Get yourself in for goodness 
sake.' She practically lugged me inside, ‘I've been that worried I 
called the police...' 

I must have looked unkempt, and something worse, because Donna's pretty
eyes seemed to fill her sockets, ‘You look awful, have you been in an 
accident – what time do you –‘ 

I shook my head, slumping into an easy chair in her lounge, ‘I'll tell
you about it, whether you believe me or not is another matter.' 

So I told Donna sketchy details in a still-fuzzy head while she merely
listened with raised eyebrows, ‘I'd better let the police know you're 
safe,' she said at the finish, ‘teach you to lay off the booze eh?' I 
swallowed hard then, feeling the green stuff had done the job 
permanently. And later when I opened the fridge, spotting the bottles 
of ale Donna had bought for me I almost vomited at the sight of them. 
It was then that I heard the evening news report on her radio – 

“Local police have made several arrests in an East Anglian village
following a bizarre incident. Called over concerns for the safety of a 
cyclist caught in the largest snowstorm for thirty years, they 
discovered a large proportion of the village community in what is 
described as a brainwashed state. 

A link has apparently been established between events in the village and
robberies that have been instigated against a remote East Anglian 
monastic order, in which several hundred boxes of what has become known 
as “The Essence,” were stolen. 

Although not as yet deemed illegal, authorities in Norfolk have known of
“The Essence” for some time. It is believed to be a non-alcoholic 
substance which interacts with brain fluids including serotonin to 
produce a chronic reaction to alcohol. The Order is currently under 
investigation concerning its production of “The Essence,” a liquid its 
elders vehemently contest is legal. 

“However a local clergyman, Parson Peters, is believed to have
masterminded the robbery; a well known campaigner against the vices of 
alcohol he is said to border on the fanatical. Parson Peters has been 
detained by police for questioning.” 

Later that evening two police officers arrived to take a statement,
after which I lay on the sofa with Donna and watched a video she 
bought. I say “watched” but in truth my mind wasn't with it, and even 
now, two years down the line and following inconclusive medical tests, 
my brain seems to empty its memory at random intervals. 

And I still can't face the sight of ale. 


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