His eyes were not friendly. Or were they? She could not tell. All she knew was that she did not have a choice, she needed to take a sip. But what if it was some kind of sedative, a poison of some sort? What would happen to her? What might he do to her limp body? She pushed aside the vile nightmare and decided to drink.

The sip was bitter, her body rejected it. She was sure it was poison. She felt her fingers go limp, or a strange kind of pins and needles pricked at them. Her mouth dried out, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes and she was sure she was about to die. The voice violently pulled her from her own thoughts.

“Is it too bitter? I can get some honey?”

Was this a joke? She wanted to say out loud, before realizing that she imagined all of the symptoms. Nothing was wrong and she did not die.

“Yes, please,” she managed to whisper in a broken voice.

The old frail man got up with great difficulty and she felt bad for a moment in making him get up. But the sympathy was gone before long. How did this old frail man get her into this room? Her mind shot to the most reasonable thing: K must have brought her here.

Before she could do anything, the old man returned with a clear jar filled with honey. Bits and pieces floated in the jar.

“Homemade,” he said and smiled as he sat down.

She added a spoonful of honey to her tea. The absurd moment unfolded ever so slowly. She did not understand what was going on but she knew she had to play by the rules now. No sudden movements, drink the tea.

She sipped from the cup and the bitter liquid became somewhat drinkable. And for that moment she felt it quench her thirst she did not even know she had. It soother her throat and the sweetness made her happy in a strange sort of way. As if this was her friend and they enjoyed a cup of herbal tea together before she had to return to her home which was just across the road. But the reality was she sat across a stranger drinking a foreign liquid in the middle of who knows where. Maybe K was even watching from another room, waiting for the perfect moment to -

“What on earth did you do alone in the woods that time of the night?”

She did not know how to respond. She took the last sip of her tea and placed the cup on the tray in front of her. Her eyes found the old man’s eyes and in a brief moment, she felt like he was an ally, someone that will help her. Her eyes told the story without words, and she reached out to the old man in that vulnerable moment. But he then looked away, as if the burden of her story was too much to carry.

“You know, my wife looked just like you.”

And in that moment, hidden in those words, she knew he was not a friend. He did not have to poison her, as those words alone numbed her. She could not stand up from where she sat. Maybe he did drug her? But she felt fine, well at least fine under the circumstances. Could she ask for a phone? For help? Or did she need to wait until he mentioned any of those things?

“Can I have some more tea,” she managed to ask.

He smiled and stood up to pour some more tea. She took the opportunity to get up and run. The door was not locked and she ran out but quickly stopped when she saw that she was close to home. She was not stranded in the woods, she was not abducted by K or this strange figure. She thought about turning around, but could not do that. She ran in the direction she thought she should and managed to find some familiar street names. Tears filled her eyes and it blocked her vision. What even happened, she thought. How? Who was he? Was he really trying to poison her or was he a good Samaritan? She came to a stop on one of the main roads. It was mid-morning. Some cars passed by her. Her hands trembled as she reached for her pocket. The book was still there. The sharp edges pressed against her thumb. Where to from here? She laughed at the situation and she cried tears of a sad and absurd joy. Where to from here?

Postscriptum, The Final In Sight

The final is really in sight. I know I have been saying it for a while now, but I think the story is almost done now. My girlfriend said she is tired of waiting for the story. She wants to read it in its entirety now. So, I think in the next one I will conclude the story. Or maybe the 20th rendition. That will conclude the story nicely, I think. I think I am at 18 or 19 now. In any case, I hope that the ending is good, otherwise, I will change it.

But for now, happy reading and be safe.

All of the writing is my own. The story is my own creation. The photographs are also my own, taken with my Nikon D300.