Rosa Damascena

A fragrant taste of rose lingered in his mouth. Turkish Delights, he thought, just like the ones at the consulate in Constantinople.

I struggled with myself, trying to quell the cold, crippling fear inside of me. My surroundings were silent, but time and again there would be noise - ordinary sounds you would hear in the late hours. But for every one that I heard - rustling, clinking, creaking - I imagined for each one something horrific and terrifying that words couldn't begin to describe.

I hurried to finish the mixture - there was no time. For every moment that I spent dawdling, the Shadow drew closer, and I could feel it embracing me in its malevolent grasp.

After a few moments of battling with the components I sought, the tonic finally sat in front of me on the desk, in a small glass container.

For a few moments, I paused, staring at the familiar pink liquid, and pondering my current course of action. Will there be anything left? Is this really for the best?

A faint moaning in the distance made my decision for me.