Brew

Feeble sun rays filtered through the blinders and danced their playful jig on Charlie's face.
He opened his eyes and groaned in frustration.
"Not again!"

He stifled a curse, rose and staggered to the kitchen. From behind, a voice startled him.
"You must bring me the elixir. Now."

"Again? Promise it would be the last time."

A scornful chuckle met his request.
"I make no promises."

Charlie knew he couldn't refuse. He turned nervously and kicked the coffee mug. It broke with a loud crash, and it splintered in thousands of pieces. He rushed over the shards and felt them piercing his skin.

He dressed in a hurry and cursed the button of his shirt, hanging loose. He pulled his shoes on and hurried through the sea of shadows. They'd not harm him if he ignored them.

There was the gate, to the ever flowing source of the elixir. A guard stood inside, and Charlie stopped and tried to remember.

"What were the words? Nevermind."

He needed the brew, so he pushed hard and the guard fell. Charlie seized the moment, run past the man, and stopped in front of the fountain. He reached in his pocket and drew the bribe for the other guard. It always worked. The fountain guard gave him in return a cup with the mysterious liquid.

His uninvited guest warned him not to taste, yet, his hand guided the cup to his lips of its own accord. He drew a long, thirsty sip then dropped his head and looked at his feet, bewildered to find no blood. He startled when he heard the man on the floor.

"Charlie, you looked like a zombie a moment ago. Why in the world would you push me? I was just trying to get out the shop, man."