Make sure you get your copy of the Poison Diaries ‘Weed’ out today!! http://bit.ly/weedpoisondiaries
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These bizarre remedies date back from almost 350 years ago and are found in an antique book set to be auctioned off.
A book by Royal Physician William Sermon, with age old remedies for cures including ‘stuffing your ear with bread to cure an earache’ is expected to sell for more than £500 this week. For a more affordable read (or gift!) The Duchess of Northumberland’s Poisons, Potions and Aphrodisiacs is very similar with cures for many ailments taken directly from the archives at the Alnwick castle library, some remedies dating back to 1576!! http://bit.ly/poisonandpotion
What poison has taken his life?’ He stares at me. ‘You!’ M. Ordinaire runs to the kitchen to inspect his distillations only to return moments later with the half emptied bottle of Mudwort.
‘You have poisoned my only son. Bastard though he is, if he is dead you will hang by the rafters here in La Cravache.’ That Weed. He poisoned you with this! I will call the sergeant and have him locked up! Locked up forever. Poisoner!’
‘I have seen such wonders in the glass tonight.’My green-eyed angel! You have discovered the recipe.’ I am glad when Pierre untangles his damp body from mine. ‘What is it father? What magic is in this bottle?’
‘It is Mudwort or Wormwood.’ M. Ordinaire says through his confusion. ‘Mud won’t do. Nor worms for what gifts it has bought me. What to call this elixir you have discovered sweet Weed?’
Absinthe it is! We will make millions from this drink! Millions I tell you! Let France starve but it will not go thirsty! And all thanks to this green-eyed angel!
As I mop the floor I dream of adding strychnine to their day’s end meal. Yet this time a smile plays on my lips for I have prepared a treat for the little devils
As I slop their slops into bowls I add a thick dose of Mugwort as their just desert. Mugwort; likely to cause madness in men at such a dose.
It is a sweet victory to watch the beasts blowing snotty bubbles from their snouts lost in a Mudwort fugue.
Pierre looks at me dead in the eyes. ‘You! You’ve done this!’ His sneer suddenly turns up at the sides into a big ridiculous smile. He takes a beatific breath then and grinning like a loon, keels over whistling like a falling tree trunk crashing to the ground.
The girl that I have been chasing for so long. She wears a simple linen dress and her arms and legs and badly scratched from where the thorns have cut her. She looks at me with tears in her mournful eyes. ‘Can you bring back my papa killed on the road this last month?’
‘No.’ It is a weak response. I feel the sweet medicine of Morning Glory leave my system and grim reality return unwelcome.
‘You are no good to me. For I can’t live without them. And nor can I live with my memories of them. Only the seeds of Morning Glory and their strange dreams bring me comfort. Until I meet my death I yearn only to forget.’
I cannot help her. I cannot bring loved ones back from death or end wars. But perhaps there is one thing that I can do. I fish in my pocket and produce six more seeds. We eat three each and I turn to the thicket and take her hand in mine.
The Morning Glory shows us a path drawn straight through the threatening bush and out, back into the embrace of nature…
A strange movement waves through the field, rippling the blooms like a stone cast into still water. Something arises from among the growing beds and stares at me. It is a blond girl, about my age, but under the strange medicine of the Morning Glory seeds I see a beautiful Sunflower instead.
A great dark eye swaying on a slender stem, framed by yellow petals. The dark eye blinks and the yellow petals shimmer in the breeze. And I return to trying to catch the hidden melody playing among the flowers.
They sing of sweetness and I chase the light at the end of the green tunnel; my target and my destination. I blink and my eyes are suffused with the glorious insight of Morning Glory’s strange vision.
The tree looks like a skeleton’s fist. It has been here forever, a solitary hardy growth in a wasteland of rock. I peer closer and see the girl leaping down the rock face, careless of rises and falls.
I fear no Green thing. After all the living word is mine to command.
I dive into the thick plantation and am shocked by the dense prison of thorns threatening from every side. As I approach the trembling heap it unfurls into the image of a teenage girl…
From The Poison Diaries short story ‘The Green Fairy’ -http://bit.ly/thegreenfairyss
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Poison diaries Team