IN THE WORKS
Chapter 1
A spirit in a bottle. Janessa's shook her head. She had seen a lot of strange things in this tiny antique store filled with curiosities, but this one beat them all, hands down!
Leaning forward, she stared at the bottle locked in the small glass case. The jar was perhaps eight inches tall, very old looking, with curious little squiggles and symbols etched on the glass. The stopper resembled a pyramid. The jar seemed to be a dull smoky gray in color, though she couldn't tell if the color came from something inside the jar, or if it was the color of the glass itself.
The price tag read $895.00. A small index card stated that the bottle had been found inside an old hawthorn box inside an ancient burial site surrounded by skulls, along with a small black book, the pages of which had disintegrated when brought into the light of day. According to the index card, the proprietor made no claims about what was inside the bottle and stated emphatically that the bottle was a curiosity, nothing more, yet the last line on the card warned that the bottle should NEVER, under any circumstances, be opened.
Janessa leaned forward for a closer look, jerked backward when a light seemed to glow from within the bottle. For a moment, it seemed as though the contents turned blue but when she blinked and looked again, the glass was gray. Another trick of the light? Or was there something alive inside the bottle?
Janessa shook her head. What could possibly live inside a bottle for hundreds of years? A genie, perhaps, she thought, with a chuckle.
Turning away from the cabinet, she continued down the aisle, pausing to admire a piece of delicate Spode china, a crystal lamp, a chess set made of ivory and jade.
She moved through the shop, nodding at the other patrons, until she found herself standing in front of the glass bottle again.
"Quite fascinating, is it not?"
Startled, Janessa turned to find Mr. Edwards, the shop proprietor, standing at her elbow. He was a wizened old man, five foot nothing in height, with a shock of snow white hair and a wispy beard streaked with gray. He regarded her through watery blue eyes.
"Yes, it is."
"There were originally two bottles," the proprietor remarked.
"Oh? Where's the other one?"
"It was broken by the man who found them."
"How did you get this one?"
"It was part of his estate."
A cold chill ran down Janessa's spine. "He's dead?"
"Yes, he died shortly after dropping the second bottle." The proprietor's gaze moved to the bottle. "The colors change from time to time," he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. "Time seems to lose all meaning when one is watching, waiting… yes, sometimes I find myself tempted to open the jar, to look inside and satisfy my curiosity once and for all…"
He shook his head as if to clear it. "Listen to me, rambling on like a silly old fool." He laughed self-consciously as he turned and made his way back to the front of the store.
Janessa stared at the bottle, and then unable to resist, she opened the cabinet door and picked it up. It warmed in her hand. It was a decidedly pleasant feeling, soothing, mildly sensual. She was about to put it back when a voice in her mind whispered, Take me home.
Startled, she almost dropped the bottle. She replaced it quickly and shut the cabinet door. What the heck?
She huffed a sigh. And then she laughed. It had just been her imagination, quickened by the old man and his tale.
Still, as she left the shop, she would have sworn she heard the voice again, pleading with her to take the bottle home.
#
So close, he thought, so close to freedom. How many more centuries would he be trapped in this hell before another human came along who could hear him? How long before he drew a breath, made love to a woman, felt the wind in his hair? Tasted the elixir of life? Anger and hatred and a burning desire for vengeance were a waste of energy and of little use when he had no way to express it.
He was drowning, he thought bleakly. Drowning in a thousand years of despair.