The drink sat before me, bubbling over its brim with misty bursts. The coiling vapor fell heavily over the sides of the glass, cascading onto the table in a flood of wispy tendrils. A Bog-Tog, they had called it; a sort of tonic or panacea for all hexes and curses.
I didn’t let myself think. I could sit here contemplating the drink forever. I grabbed the glass and tossed it back. Draining the contents in a gulp, I slammed the cup down with a gasp. My stomach hurt, and I burped out a green cloud.
She laughed.
“Oh dear,” she covered her smiling lips. “You’re supposed to sip.”
“Well—” I started to speak, but the words all looped around and wouldn’t catch on my tongue.
“What’s done is done,” she observed, coming round to my side. Pulling me by the arm, she lifted me out of my chair. I felt light as a feather, and she felt irresistible as breath. I pressed my face toward hers, hoping to meet her lips, but she played a trick on me somewhere and escaped, though she would not let me escape.
“This way,” she said. “Come along—ow!” she chirped at the end as I managed to pinch something.
She laid me down in the bed, and though I tried to hold onto her, she rose again. I watched her, gliding like an angel about the room, hearing here and there a few words: “…supposed…share…drank all…” and then she was standing over me, the lantern in her hands. She kissed the light and brought darkness. Then I felt her warmth against me, and her whisper: “You owe me half of that drink.”
Then her lips were on mine, and I was hers.
Tale Told 