Suellyn gazed at the sky-blue decanter on the table in the cellar, biting her lip as temptation grasped at her with hooked claws. Its rippled label, written in fanciful font, read “Drink Me”.
The glass was completely smooth; no insignia of its craftsman was present on the bottle. It felt chilled against her skin, as though it had been removed from a freezer. The air was cool in the cellar, but for it to be so cold was mysterious. It was unreasonably light, as if it was empty, yet she felt the liquid slosh inside.
