Chapter 6 Cursed

'No. Does it turn people into frogs?' He was starting to get a kick out of this.

'No, it doesn't. This is not one of my surprise jokes if that is what you are thinking. I am being serious and I ask that you respect that,' the stern expression on Howard's face agreed with him. 'This potion is called an "Oxygen potion",' he continued. 'That's one of the few things he told me about it. It enhances its drinker's strength and speed making him or her, you can say...superhuman.'

Brendan could not restrain a small and brief giggle at these words. 'There is no such thing as a "superhuman being",' he said shaking his head skeptically. 'That's just ridiculous,' he let loose another giggle.

'That's what they used to say about magician scientists and the next thing you know, a man is being accused of being one and burnt alive right before his son's eyes.' A tear rolled down his cheek. This made Brendan become serious once again.

'So why do you keep it? Isn't it evil?' he asked in a tone of pretend innocence.

'There are so many things that I want to tell you about, but for your own safety I cannot. You were born and raised here in this city and my past could affect you. That's why I want to leave you this Oxygen potion. I take the smallest of sips once every ten years because its effect is strong. That small sip can keep me going for a decade.'

'Whoa, whoa, are you telling me that you have super powers right now?' A mocking grin was stretched across his face.

'Yes, I do,' he answered him, looking irritated that Brendan did not believe him. 'But I am only careful not to take more than a small sip and after every decade of course. Any dose exaggerated to this could cause unspeakable and unimaginable misfortunes and disasters. Do you know how old I am, son?' he asked him.

'Eighty-two. But what does that have to do with this?' His mouth was now stuck in-between a frown and a smile. He was beginning to think that Howard could maybe, possibly, just may be telling the truth.

'Name one 80 year old or even 70 year old who can do the kind of work I do? I still have the back to clean the house. Any other old-timer would have broken his back.'

Brendan shook his head in objection. 'I still don't believe you. This is all just a joke or something,' he said.

'I have never been this serious since the day I made a bed for you sixteen years ago and laid you down and decided to raise you as my son.'

'Even if what you're saying is true, why choose me?' he protested.

'Because you're the only family I have left.'

'And the only reason you have only me as your family is because you outlived all of your relatives because of that!' He was now pointing at the vile container in Howard's hand, his eyes filled with spiteful contempt. 'Do you know what would happen if the police found out about this? Do you want both of us to be burned alive? Don't you know how serious of a crime witchcraft is in this city?'

'With the sips you'll be taking from this, you can escape from persecution,' he tried to reason with him.

'Why don't you just put an end to this silly family tradition and throw away that potion or just give it to me and I'll spill the contents into the drain right now?' He reached for it but Howard pulled it away from his reach. Brendan fumed.

'If I threw away or even got rid of this potion then my father's work would have been for nothing. He told me to keep it safe no matter what and when I asked him what if maybe I was not going to have any children then who would be the beneficiary? And he said good will come my way. Then the next thing I know, my wife dies three years after our marriage and another woman dies soon after giving birth to her child in my living room. Don't you think that is some kind of sign?' He looked at his son with eyes that searched for an undeserved understanding.

Brendan began pacing up and down the room. His mind was at work, trying to ponder over what Howard was saying. 'You know what I think, old man?' he said finally. 'I think old age is getting the best of you.'

'Yes it is getting the best of me, Brendan. My time is almost up and if you value my love for you then you would honor this wish.'

'You don't expect me to just go along with this that quick, do you? All these years you have kept this serious secret. What if you had been found out? What then? You want me to watch an angry mob burn you alive before my very eyes?' Brendan's eyes twinkled with tears.

'I have always been careful. You know I would not expose you to such a threat if I could. I only desire the best for you, my son and that includes a longer and more prosperous life than my own. I don't want you to make the same outrageous and reckless mistakes I did. All I want is for you to keep this potion. If you choose to use it, use the amount I told you. If you have children, then you can relieve yourself of this burden and pass it down to them and tell them the same...'

'So you want me to pass this curse down to my children?' he interrupted, his eyes still twinkling with tears. They were tears of anger, and, yes, a little sadness.

'I'm asking you to live,' Howard begged him with his eyes. 'It's not like the potion won't run out. Eventually it will and our family can rest.'

Brendan stared at him with rage-filled and swollen eyes. The tears in his eyes were now merely peeking, ready to burst at any moment. 'Our family?'

'I am asking you as your father.'

'You're not my father, Howard, never were and never will be. Try to get that through your head...' He was pacing up and down more furiously now. 'And in light of what you just told me, I don't think you're any different from my real father.' After these words he rushed upstairs to his room and slammed the door shut. He threw himself onto the bed, the pillow suffocating his tears back into their harbor.