Chapter Five: Family Secret Brew:

I didn’t make it back into the early hours of the morning. It felt so strange to be walking home so late. The quiet made me shiver. Had it always been not that normal? When I woke up, I was alone. My heart sank a little. I should’ve known. But I had hoped.

I looked around at the dark street ahead of me. There had never been streetlights that stayed on in this village. It was said that they would attract “them” at night. (Who “they” were, no one even explained it to us.) I gulped as I forced myself to keep walking. Some of the farmers weren’t even up now. I didn’t know when the sun was going to rise.

I shook my head. I needed to stop thinking about that. I had to get home. I forced myself to keep walking down the dark streets. I shivered as I rubbed on my right arm.  Maybe it would be better if I ran. Not like anyone could see me out here. But still…

I closed my eyes and started running. I had been down this street many times before when the light was out. All I had to do was slip into my window and go to sleep.  I held my breath and pushed myself to run faster. I just prayed that everyone was still asleep. My father wouldn’t enjoy that I was out all night with some stranger who just breezed into our town. I pushed the image out of my head and kept running.

I could make it back to my house in my sleep.

Before I knew it, I was stepping on wet moss. I opened my eyes, but I didn’t need to see to know that I was home. My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I walked through the backyard. (It wasn’t a real backyard. It was just a path that led into the woods. No one rarely went back there.) I could see the small open window where my room was. Luckily, I was still small enough to squeeze in. I hoped that everyone in my house was still asleep.

I managed to work myself back into my room without any problems. Once inside, I stripped down and threw on a nightgown. I collapsed onto my bed and fell right to sleep.

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In the morning, I lay there on top of my sheets. I knew I was in my room, but it didn’t feel like it. The world felt different around me. I couldn’t quite explain it. It was like the blindfold was ripped from my eyes. This didn’t feel like this was my world. I shivered as the thought of something dying in me crossed my mind.

I put my hand to my chest. Did that beautiful man do this to me?

“Rose! Get up! You have to help around the house today!” I heard my mother from down the hall.

“Coming!” I shouted. I sat up and jumped off the bed. For now, I was going to have to pretend that everything was fine.

I found my mother in the kitchen. She stood over the stove, stirring a giant pot. For some reason, part of me was afraid of her. I didn’t know how I was going to approach her. Suddenly, she stopped stirring.

“It’s about time you got up,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” I said with my head bowed. I waited for her to turn around and scold me. Instead, she kept her back to me.

“Never mind, come over here,” she said. Almost reluctantly, I walked over and stood next to her by the stove. It felt uncomfortable.

“Yes?” I asked. Mama shifted her eyes over to me.

“It’s about time you learned the family recipe,” she said. I looked confused at first.

“Which one?” I asked.

“The one from your great-grandma Georgia,” she said. I pressed my lips together. Oh. That one. I guessed that she decided that it was time. I lifted my chin. Mama picked up the spoon again. The recipe goes like this:

Six leaves of mint

Three stems of aloe

Handful of rose petals

Rain water

Bee balm

Foxglove

Ginger

Lavendar

Lemongrass

Lovage

Rosemary

Nightshade

I had a hint of what was coming when she and I picked these herbs five days ago. Mama had that look in her eye. I’ve seen that look before. This morning, she had a batch of the brew boiling right now. Now, I would have to be the one to mash and chop the herbs. Drop them into a pot with the rainwater. Throw in crushed cinnamon and let it boil. Cool it down. Bottle it up. The key ingredient was nightshade.

“What is this for?” I asked in a whisper. Mama looked out the window with no emotion on her face.

“It’s a special brew,” she said. “You will need to use this later.” Mama would have me gather the herbs and cook this brew every day from that morning on. I didn’t know that she would be right in the days and weeks to come. I picked up the knife and started chopping.

However, there was going to be one little extra ingredient I would add to my brew. And that was going to be my ticket out.