[Brewed Beyond The Woods]

She stares into her warm cup of tea, the steam gently slithering out of it. The warm cabin creaks under the strong wind, it’s a sunny day accompanied by a strong breeze. In front of her is a spectre, sipping his own tea and enjoying the taste of it – but she doesn’t know whose spectre it is – she dares not to look at it. Averting any eye contact, she remembers the howls of the wind, it sounds just like it was on that day a kind man had saved her.

The sky screamed.

A lightning, then thunder.

Clouds mourned, as if God Himself had sworn them off from ever seeing the Heavens.

Peter listened to the wind; threatening to break and demolish his own home, yet he still calmly sips his strawberry tea. Unshaken and assured that the howls are more bark than bite. Something did not sound like the wind, though. It sounded like..

“Help!”

He stood up from his chair and bolted to the door of his home. There she was – a nymph with fern embroidering her body, but something seemed off. Blood was oozing out seemingly all over her. He ran towards her and hurriedly brought her into his home. What to do, what to do..? The sight was horrific, it looked as if the poor nymph had been trampled all over by a huge beast. He did not know where to begin. 

⋆˚✿˖°

A morning jay sang with the sounds of rustling leaves. Her eyes gently fluttered as the sunlight kissed her and she slowly realised that some parts of her body had been gently wrapped with bandages, many stitched up with threads. She was wearing someone’s garment, an unusual act for her people. She silently wept in her bed, unsure of how to process anything that had taken place the night before. Unsure of how to soothe her, Peter quietly came up to her and carefully picked her up then brought her to his garden. A mat already laid out in the lush grass, he gently put her down. Her soft hiccups filled the silence in the garden.

“I apologise,” Peter said as he delicately held her hand – garnished in fern and a bluish tone. “But I never quite catch your name,” his sky-blue eyes stared into her own hazels. Her voice was stuck in her throat, unable to speak anything as she continued to weep. Her teardrops fell onto the earth, and a flower; pink, abundant with a fragrant that of sugar had sprouted from his soil.

He was breathless.

“Azure. I am Azure.”

He nodded as her tears continued to sprout more flowers in his garden.

⋆˚✿˖°

Peter ran the mysterious flowers through cold water, rinsing them thoroughly and ensuring that they are clean of any debris. They looked nothing alike any of the flowers he had made tea with before; not chamomile, lavender nor rose. The petals of the flower glimmered from the droplets.

“Nerium oleander,” he named it.

The kettle whistled and Peter prepared the flowers to be steeped. He was positive that the outcome of this new flower would be lovely, only judging from its sweet fragrance. As some time had gone by, he sipped his new invention. It was rather salty at first, but his taste buds were surprised by the overwhelming honey-like sweetness enveloping his tongue. The tea was exquisite, and he knew this would be the solution to any of his problems from then on. He began drying these flowers, assured that the people of the nearby village would love his new finding.

Days passed by, and as he predicted, the tea sold like hot cakes. Her tears brought him bags and bags of shillings, bringing him riches he had never grasped before. 

Azure; however, was healing. Time had slowly, gently healed her wounds. The garden is no longer filled with her flowers and that concerned Peter. His riches would not live long, and he feared what the future would bring upon him. Every breath she took is both a blessing and a curse to him. Was it love or hatred he has towards her?

Nevertheless, he gave her more reasons to weep.

“Does your kind hate you so, that they do not bother looking for you anymore?”

His hands replaced her worn-out bandages.

“How unloved and unwanted are you?”

A kiss on her knuckles.

“Must you be so useless now that you live here with me?

.. Cry for me.”

The flowers bloomed.

⋆˚✿˖°

Time was anything but merciful, and his tearful words had poisoned her heart; his momentary kindness confused her. A screaming, aching feeling welled up deep inside of her chest – as her only purpose to him now was to adorn his picturesque garden with her melancholy. One last straw, one last chance.

“Why is it that you cannot fathom you are unimportant here?”

Snap.

“You can’t do this to me, Peter. You can’t keep telling me I am unlovable just to gingerly kiss me right after!” Azure screamed at the top of her lungs, tears welled up in her eyes. “This is unfair! I hate this, I hate what you’ve become!”

He blinked, surprised by the sudden outrage.

“Ungrateful brat. I saved your life, tended to your wounds and this is how you repay me?” Peter loomed over her, his eyes seemed empty and his voice as cold as ice. 

“I am anything but ungrateful!” She shoved Peter but the tall man was unwavering. “I wish you would’ve let me die right in front of your bloody porch!” The storm got stronger, the thunder louder. “I wish I was nothing to you!”

“You ARE nothing to me!” A hand struck down the nymph. A booming thunder. A bleeding forehead. A tugged heartstring. The last gasp of air.

Peter fell.

"Do you remember now?" he asks. Azure sips her tea, grasping the cup dearly. She looks up at the ghost. 

“The flowers.. were poisonous. You hit me and..” The house rots, turning dreary and abandoned as Azure stares into the dead eyes of Peter. 

".. The poison worked." 

"I shouldn’t have treated you so horribly." 

"I know." 

"Please forgive me." 

The nymph softly cries, and tears drop onto the corroded table. No flower grew this time – instead, golden mushrooms came to life. She plucks one of the funnel-shaped mushrooms and eats it. A bittersweet smile takes place as the delightful taste of the mushroom fills her.

“May I rest, darling?” the spectre asks as he gazes at her warm smile. Her eyes glance at his corpse, sitting in front of her. She slowly nods.

Azure grants him a silent forgiveness as she finally buries his body in his own garden. A fairy ring forms around the area, decorated with plentiful golden mushrooms.

She leaves the cabin, the golden fungi following her trail. Adamant on showing anyone who crosses her path the same kindness Peter had given her. Adamant she will never turn as cruel as he did. To this day, chanterelles can still be found near hardwood trees.

The End