The Bottle

B.M.  Dre

wOlr dWOo fPuObicabWtn ssL

Copyright © 2022 by B.M. Drew

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No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the
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 The Bottle

A s I sit here now beside my pond and watch the autumn fog
dance along the water, and as the leaves whisper and chatter to
one another as the wind lets them, I think of my wife, and how sorry
I am I can’t live the rest of my days here like she wanted.
On our little 12-acre farm. Our little quiet heaven, or at least that’s
what it was supposed to be.
But the land holds secrets.
I know now, without a lingering question in my heart, that Hell
exists.
I wish that gave me comfort because that means that Diana is wait-
ing for me at our next quiet little heaven, one that doesn’t mock the
search for peace, but it doesn’t.
Once the sun winks its red eye closed and retires for the evening I’ll
be gone from this place. But there are two things I need to do Mrst, and
one of them is to write this down before I put it behind me forever.
2 B.R. DEW'

Although, a part deep inside of me, the part that canKt be lied to,
knows that the curtain will never close on me again no matter where I
go.

Cnows that I’m forever and always awake.

Sancer took her last year. The was thirty-seven. …here are a million
words in me I could say about losing her. …he shock, the denial, the
hope, the hope lost, and the twinkle in her eyes that was lost with it.
…he pain. …hose nonsense last words. …he last breath8
The’s gone now. …hat’s all that matters.
'e’d bought a twelve-acre homestead in Touthern Illinois to escape
the city. …he house had been built in 19(9 as a colonial revival home
and was more or less falling apart, but there was a secluded, rural charm
about it. It sat on a strip of land several miles o) of any main road,
with Melds used for harvesting corn nestling the house on either side,
and behind it was a fenced-in pasture that shot back into the woods,
which was perfect for our two horses.
'hen we did the tour we sat on the porch and looked out at what
might’ve been the most peaceful view we’d ever seen, with Melds of
wheat yawning and bowing in the wind like a sea of gold across from
us. I could see in her eyes that she was in love, and so we made our
minds up to make an o)er right then and there.
During the Mnal walkthrough, the sellers had forgotten they’d
changed the locks Lthey were going through what was apparently a
rough divorce3 and our agent had to call the estranged wife in to give
us access to the home.
The was amiable enough when she arrived and gave us a handful of
apologies for not remembering to provide a new set of keys, but what
struck me as odd, even then, was that she had seemed reluctant to step
 …HW BO……jW :

onto the property at all. The parked her car on the gravel road about
one hundred feet in front of the house and talked to us from there, and
when she wasnKt sure which key it was on her keychain to hand to us,
she looked disquieted. The walked briskly to the house and fumbled
with her keys and the deadbolt until she Mnally found the right one,
and opened the door without walking in, pulling her hand away from
the doorknob like it was something hot to the touch.
The said something about needing to get some fresh air, told the
agent to bring her keys after locking up, and then hurried back to her
car.
I thought there may have —ust been bad memories of the marriage
that she didn’t want to revisit, or that she maybe felt awkward, or that
she was intruding. It all makes sense now.
'e knew we had our work cut out for us from the beginning, and
when we settled in it was one thing after another; leaking toilets, bad
insulation, water damage z but we were happy. Diana got sick not
long after, but I’m truly grateful for that short period of time when we
would work on our old farmhouse, drink co)ee and watch the sunrise
from our front porch, taking in all of the life around us.
After she passed, her sister took her horses as agreed, as well as our
two dogs temporarily. …he dogs werenKt my original plan but I was
taking everything pretty hard and —ust needed to be alone for a while4
—ust needed some quiet, which I didnKt get anyway because of the
damned wind, with its constant howling and moaning through the
windows.
Ry drinking had overtaken me. …here are large gaps in my memory,
especially right after. I drank from the bottle like the evening’s watery
haJe would drink me in return, hoping it would dissolve me into
nothing.
5 B.R. DEW'

One morning, I’d woken up to a massive hangover that felt like it

couldn’t be cured by anything other than the sun and a walk, so I threw
on some coveralls and went on into the woods behind the property.
I’d known there was a stream or a creek of some kind that ran Wast
through it, but the thorns and brush were so overgrown I couldn’t see
through more than ten or so feet. …here was a supposed path of some
kind that led to the stream, and I thought if I could —ust push my way
through enough, I’d eventually run into it.
It only took me about Mve minutes until an overgrown - but -
manageable clearing revealed itself and led me to the small stream, a
steady ?ow of water running through it. It was only about six or so
inches deep but had carved its own winding path deep into the dirt
over the years.
I followed, thinking I’d see the tracks of various animals nearby that
came to drink from it, and I did. I continued on and in the water, I
started seeing these broken fragments of bottles. …hey were old4 very
old4 softened and smoothed by water and sediment and time. …hey
were the kind of bottles you’d see on a movie set in some 1(th-century
period piece Mlm, with deep brown and emerald glass with all of those
gaudy, oblong angles, like some sort of snake oil elixir.
…here were —ust a few scattered fragments at Mrst, but the further I
trudged on, the more abundant the shards became until I came to the
streamKs watershed, and —ust beyond that was an opening in the ground
that looked like some sort of den, big enough to walk in if I crouched.
…here mustKve been a doJen or so broken bottles in front of it. It was
like someone had dumped them in a hurry all at once, or had drunk
them in unison and then smashed them for some reason.
6utting out of the sand in the water, was a green bottle that seemed
like it had remained intact over the years. It had two circular Mnger
 …HW BO……jW 7

handles on either side of its neck and some kind of impressed label in
the glass, but the letters were immersed and I couldnKt make them out.
I pulled it free and rinsed it in the water, and I was —ust able to make
out the smoothed letters stamped into the glass; Arsenic.
Bottles of poison... but whyN 'hy hereN And how had this been
here all these years without being found or picked up by hunters or
one of the previous ownersN I reached into my pocket to take a picture
of the whole scene with my phone but realiJed I had forgotten it.
…he hole bellowed at me as if commanding me to gaJe into its
swallowing darkness, and although I couldnKt see anything, I felt I was
being watched from within it.
A coldness crawled up my spine. I shoved the bottle into the big
front pocket of my coveralls and made my way back, not being able to
help but check behind me several times along the way.
'hen I got back to the house, I poured myself a neat glass of
whiskey. It was still early in the afternoon, but hunting for little
treasures on the land was something Diana had loved to do, and so
the thought of coming across such a strange Mnd made the antique
arsenic bottle quite heavy in my pocket. I thought IKd lighten it with
bourbon.
I placed the old, green bottle on my co)ee table and sat across from
it on my couch, and I sipped my drink. I stared at it in my quiet, empty
house, quiet save for the wind. I sipped again. It was so interesting. I
thought deeply on how it got there4 how it hadnKt been found in, well,
I donKt know z one hundred thirty years, maybe moreN I knew arsenic
had been used in tonics and pesticides before they knew how deadly it
was, but it —ust seemed such a strange place for them to be.
I thought maybe the isolation and grief had made me paranoid. I
sipped my drink again. I poured another glass, and then a few more.
G B.R. DEW'

…he room went orange as the low sun came through the glass and the
wind howled through the poorly-sealed windows.
…he old poison bottle had entranced me, and in staring at it IKd
lost track of time. …hings went soft around the edges and the whiskey
numbed my tongue, glass after glass, but I remember at some point IKd
imagined it had comforted me4 spoken to me with silent words.
Drink it had said.
Drink it in.
And I did. It knew my pain and wanted it gone.
I sunk into the bottle and faded with the evening.
I awoke on the couch with a massive hangover, the bottle still star-
ing. An empty one that had housed the whisky the night before now
rested beside it.
I fumbled around in the medicine cabinet for some spare aspirin
and forced them down with some water from the sink, and went to the
front porch to sit in my favorite chair and catch some crisp morning
air.
'hen I stepped outside, I noticed that the chair had been turned
around, toward the windows, facing right into my living room where
I had slept the night before.
It had been pulled close to the glass, almost like whoever was sitting
in it wanted to be as close as possible to get a better view of the inside.
It had to have been me, IKd thought. But why the hell would I do
thatN
…he wind had been howling and was known to blow things around,
sometimes clear into the yard, but this chair was made out of cured
oak and weighed thirty, maybe forty pounds. It didnKt seem likely to
have moved it.
 …HW BO……jW F

…his heavy, ?oral smell clung to the wood, like some sort of gaudy
lavender perfume youKd Mnd buried in some box in your grandmoth-
erKs basement.
"ot thinking of the absurdity of it, I went back inside and sni)ed
the mouth of the old bottle. "othing but the remnant smell of water.
…he pain from the hangover pulled the turned chair to the back
of my mind. I had been in a drunken stupor and couldKve fumbled
around out there, doing Pod knows what. I only managed to make it
a few hours before heading to the liquor store to grab another bottle.
I sat back on my couch, across from the old green bottle and its
drained companion from the night before, and I drank in silence, —ust
like it wanted me to.
Tometime during the night, maybe eleven or so but ItKs hard to say,
I was very drunk, I was browsing my phone from my couch, and three
soft knocks tapped at my door.
I didnKt see any car lights come down the gravel road that ran ad—a-
cent to my house. Raybe one of the neighbors needed something, IKd
thought.
0or reasons I canKt quite comprehend, I o)ered a consulting glance
at the bottle on the table. It told me to answer in its wordless way, and
I listened.
I got up and went for the door, ?ipping the light switch to the porch
on and remembering there had been a short in the wires. I opened it.
…here stood a thin young woman, faintly bathed in what little
light the only lamp in the living room o)ered. It was hard to make
out her features, but she looked like she might have been in her ear-
ly-to-mid-twenties. Her hair was long and looked like it could’ve been
a light brown, draping halfway down her back. The wore this white
embroidered nightgown that might have been beautiful, except even
in the timid light I could see dirt on it in several places.
9 B.R. DEW'

…he shadows hid much of her face, but even then she looked pallid,
her eyes bringing about this astounded look on her face as if she were
confused or lost.
I stood there with my drink in my hand, unsure of what to say or
how to address such a strange and unexpected visitation in the middle
of the night.
The said that she was sorry for disturbing me, but that she was
looking for her dog. The said she lived about a mile down the road and
had been hearing prairie wolves the past few nights, and her dog had
run o) into the woods and was nowhere to be found. The said she was
getting very worried they might have tricked him into chasing after
them.
I told her I hadnKt seen or heard of any coyotes and then asked her
about the dog. The said he was a collie and his name was Sopper. I
looked down and noticed she didnKt have any shoes on and her feet
were covered in mud.
UDid... you go running through the woods in a gown without shoes
on to look for himNU I asked her.
The glanced down and studied her muddied feet with that same
surprised look and said nothing.
I thought maybe she was drunk or medicated, but she looked harm-
less and the whiskey had always made me well-disposed. I told her to
wait a moment and IKd go get a towel so she could wipe her feet o)
and could come inside and warm up for a moment. …hen, weKd take a
spotlight to go looking for him.
As I reached to close the door handle and grab a towel, I noticed her
eyes, so daJed and cloudy and confused before, now sprung alive in the
dark with a distilled intensity, focusing in on the green arsenic bottle
that sat on my co)ee table.
 …HW BO……jW (

The took a single, eager step toward it, stopping —ust before my
doorway. I held my hand out to halt her, a little startled by the ap-
proach but still attempting to be polite.
The gave a sheepish grin and shook her head, UIKm deeply sorry. …he
cold has made me too eager for warmth this evening,U she said.
It was so fast I couldKve easily missed it, but as she smiled I noticed
the inside of her upper lip stuck to her teeth, lagging on one side before
breaking free as if her mouth had been exceptionally dry. …he ?esh
of her lips looked -- harder than usual4 sti)er, thin slivers of her dark
gums revealing themselves. …he whiskey had dulled my senses, but
when she stepped in closer, I also noticed a lavender perfume smell on
her and thought of the chair outside.
The couldKve —ust been dehydrated for all I knew, but the whole thing
—ust felt o)4 felt wrong. I closed the door and caught her glance at the
bottle with that same look again, unable to will her eyes from peering
at it.
I stood there for a moment, hand still on the doorknob, and then
?icked the deadbolt locked with careful Mngers.
I thought about calling the police at that instant.
It was weird, sure, but IKd ran out after our dogs half-dressed, with
no shoes on before when they chased deer or a passing car or some-
thing, so it wasnKt unthinkable.
But that smell. …here was no mistaking it.
Behind me, I could feel the bottle was displeased.
Let her in.
I shook my head at it and then downed the rest of my drink. U"o.U
U!ardonNU I could hear her say from the other side of the door.
UActually, IKm very sorry, but itKs late. I can call someone for you
if you like. IKll keep an eye out for Sopper and will take him to your
1 B.R. DEW'

house if he turns up. 'hich house did you say it was down the road
againNU
…here was a pause that felt like an eternity. UOh,U she said, Mnally,
not answering my question. U…hatKs a shame.U
The sounded disappointed. "ot angry or insulted, —ust let down. I
opened my mouth to apologiJe again, but the words never managed
to crawl out of it.
…he lampKs dim light didnKt reach far enough to illuminate the
porch through the windows, but in the darkness, I thought I could
see the silhouette of a head tilt its way into view from the side of the
windows the front door had been butted up against. …he soft creaks
of graceful bare feet on wooden steps groaned as she left the porch and
she walked into the night without saying another word.
I grabbed my nine-millimeter and made my way around the oth-
er doors to double-check the locks. Ry mind was reeling4 trying to
process what had —ust happened. U!rarie wolves...U I said to myself as I
poured more bourbon into my glass. 'ho calls them that these daysNU
A part of me felt guilty. Raybe IKd —ust sent a poor girl with a missing
dog back into the cold, but her mouth4 that perfumed smell on her
that saturated my chair the night before4 how she looked at the green
bottle on my table.
Ry heart pounded in my chest. I didnKt think she could pose any
real physical threat to me, but I felt uneasy. n-alone. I took another
drink from the glass.
I pulled my phone out to call the police, trying my best to stay out
of the line of sight of the front windows. Although IKd heard her walk
o) moments earlier, I couldnKt help but feel naked through the glass.
I got ready to dial the local stationKs number, but the old green bottle
beckoned me over to it.
 …HW BO……jW 11

Drink it had said. And I did. I thumbed my phone back into my

pocket and sunk back into the couch, and drank myself into an empty
void.
…hree empty bottles greeted me from the table in the morning, the
newest member laying on its side.
I was on the ?oor.
Wven with the throbbing headache, I thought of the strange
woman, and how I managed to get drunk instead of calling the police.
I looked around. …he house was trashed. I hadnKt cleaned it in weeks4
hadnKt even swept up the clumps of dog hair that accumulated in the
corners of the rooms and under the furniture from months before.
And now my drinking had gotten so bad, I couldnKt even manage
to call the police before blacking out.
Diana wouldKve been heartbroken if sheKd seen this. The hated my
drinking. I let shame hit me like a pu) of heavy smoke, and then I
called the sheri). As I dialed I could still feel that green arsenic bottle
pulling my gaJe toward it, weighing the room down from that co)ee
table and anchoring everything in place, drawing me in like a dancing
Mre in the dark.
…he sheri) came by not long after and I told her what had happened
the night before4 that a strange young woman was knocking on my
door in the middle of the night but hadnKt actually done anything
illegal that I could be sure of, but that she might have been trespassing
on my property the previous night and might have been on drugs.
I told the sheri) where the woman said she came from and asked her
if she knew any of the homes along the road the woman had described
to me. The said there was only one within a few miles on that particular
stretch, but the house had been condemned twenty or so years. The
said drugs had gotten pretty bad in the neighboring town, and it was
12 B.R. DEW'

possible the problem had made its way to the more rural parts of the
area.
The told me she would ask around in the area to see if any of the
other homes experienced anything similar and then o)ered to check
in throughout the night.
I told her it wasnKt necessary and that I had plenty of guns in the
house to protect myself with if it came to that.
After the sheri) left, I uncorked my bottle and poured a glass. I —ust
needed to take the edge o). 'hen I looked over at the co)ee table I
noticed the antique bottle was gone.
!anicked, I searched the house for it for Mfteen or so minutes before
I realiJed IKd put it in my coat pocket before the sheri) came by earlier,
—ust to keep it close.
A few hours later, as the sun was going down, I went around back
near the gated strip that led to our pond and pasture that was butted
up against the woods, where DianaKs horses used to be.
…here had been some equipment IKd left out there for weeks and
there was supposed to be a storm coming that evening, and so I’d
wanted to move everything into the barn.
'hen I got back to the gate I noticed it had been opened, which was
something I never did, even with the horses gone. In the fading light,
I made out... footprints, along a thin beaten path that ran through the
center of the strip where the horses used to walk up to get feed.
Bare footprints, from small bare feet. The had walked through the
woods, through the pasture to come knocking on my door.
I thought I could make out at least two sets going both toward the
house and then back down the path again, but with overcast blocking
the moon and stars it was getting hard to see anything.
 …HW BO……jW 1:

I followed the footprints two hundred or so yards until I could

see them cut down into the pasture and to the gate that led into the
woods.
It had also been left open. I reached for the old green bottle for
comfort and realiJed IKd left it in the house.
I needed my gun. I needed my gun and I needed to call the sheri),
and I needed that god damned bottle.
I began making my way back to the house when I saw the woman,
walking past the pond and the mausoleum where Diana rested, and
heading toward the house. The wouldKve been impossible to make out
in the dark if it werenKt for that white gown.
I yelled out to her and started running before tripping over some
broken wire fencing that was on the ground. The either ignored me or
couldnKt hear my voice through the rustling corn, which had begun to
move with the wind from the oncoming storm.
I was —ust too far away from her. The made her way to the house with
this calm grace and then went around it to the front. I realiJed my gun
had been on my table, in plain sight, and I hadnKt locked my door.
IKd been drinking until I was numb, —ust like that fucking bottle had
told me to4 made myself careless and stupid.
…here were hammers and a machete in the barn, but it was in the
opposite direction and by the time I grabbed one of them she could
easily have been inside the house for a minute, maybe more. …he best
thing I could Mnd on the way was a little trench shovel in the garden.
I grabbed it.
'hen I got around to the front of the house, the door had been
cracked half-open. The’d gone inside. …he wind blew harder and began
its howling, now carrying cold pellets of rain that stung as they hit my
face.
15 B.R. DEW'

Ry legs didnKt want to approach the house, but slowly, I did, that
middle step to the porch creaking the loudest it ever had, even in the
wind and the rain.
I pushed the door open further with the tip of the shovel. …he
whiskey bottles that had made themselves so comfortable next to the
old green poison bottle were scattered about the ?oor, the green bottle
gone. …he gun was still sitting there, untouched. I grabbed it. I looked
around for my phone but didnKt see it in sight.
I could hear her walking around upstairs, in what sounded like
DianaKs o ce. I aimed my gun into the darkness toward the top of the
stairs and yelled out to her; USome out of there IKll fucking shoot you
if I have to.U
…he creaking ?oorboards stopped for a moment, and then she
walked out onto the landing4 an obscure phantom in the dark, except
for the faint lunar glow of her gown4 except for the whites of her
confounded eyes.
The had the bottle in her hands and she seemed to be crying. Her
hands were shaking. U... DonKt drop it,U I said lowly4 eagerly.
The tilted the bottle up above her head and stuck her tongue in the
opening of its neck, desperate for something that hadnKt been inside
of it for well over a century.
Her tongue made this squelching noise as she did it, as if it were
much, much too dry. The gave me a distraught look and cried harder.
…he wind moaned through the windows4 through the darkness of
the house. IKd never felt more alone in my life.
U'hy isnKt it working, Wli—ahNU The asked me from the top of the
stairs. I didnKt know what to say, nor did I have any clue who Wli—ah
was. …he woman had clearly lost her mind. I had to make sure she put
the bottle down before she broke it.
USome on down. 'eKll —ust talk about it.U
 …HW BO……jW 17

The cradled the bottle tighter, taking slow steps down the staircase
and stopping at its base. UIt didnKt work for me,U she said in the dark,
sobbing as the words left her.
I lowered my gun and reached for the lamp on the island in the
kitchen near the foot of the stairs, and for the Mrst time, I truly saw
her.
The wasnKt much more than an emaciated skeleton. Her skin was
hardened and yellowed and pulled tight to her. The looked... she
looked not much di)erent than Diana did on her hospice bed —ust
before the end. "o doubt If I wouldKve left her in her bed a few days
after sheKd passed away, they wouldKve been hard to tell apart.
I shouldKve been terriMed and a part of me was, but she looked so
helpless4 so pitiful, like a child holding a teddy bear. …his overwhelm-
ing sensation of sadness Mlled me.
U'hy did it work for you and not me, Wli—ahNU The asked me again.
I set my gun on the table.
I thought for a moment about whether or not to correct her on who
I was, and decided it didnKt feel like it was the right thing to do.
I asked her what she meant. Her eyes sobered like she realiJed I
wasnKt whoever this person was for a moment, and then she retreated.
UIt calls to me, but why am I still here and youKre notNU I didnKt
respond, but I felt her words. IKd felt them in me every day since Diana
had gone.
UAnd the othersNU she asked
I began crying with her.
UIKm so sorry.U
At this, she regarded me, then winced with a tender pain and looked
away. The tried drinking from the bottle again in vain. I reached out
and touched her arm gently to stop her. Her skin was cold and hard.
1G B.R. DEW'

The sobered her gaJe once more, and for a moment the faintest smile
rose on her face, and then she retreated again for the last time, into
whatever life she had known when she was still alive.
I guided her gently to the door, her bottle still cradled close to her,
and stood in the doorway as she left. I wanted to hold onto it more
than anything, but it didnKt belong to me.
I asked her, U'as there ever even a Sopper at allNU
UHave you seen himNU The asked.
I shook my head. The turned and moved around the house. I walked
into the yard and to the side and watched her go on, back through the
pasture and into the woods, the rain and the wind blowing her hair
and gown like wild rags. The never looked back once.
And then she was gone.
…he next few days I did a deep dive into county records, trying to
Mnd anyone that ever owned a home in the area named Wli—ah, but
nothing turned up. It was as if she - and whoever Wli—ah were - never
existed at all.
I donKt know exactly what happened to her, but I feel like she was
warning me in the only way she was capable, to avoid whatever Hell
she had found herself in.
Wvery day I Mght the urge to go back into those woods and see if that
bottle is back where I found it. I catch myself walking towards the trees
that lead to the stream4 to that hole, and inevitably to that bottle.
But I donKt dare go in.
TheKd no doubt come looking to reclaim it, like sheKs likely done
many times before. And if she didn’t, I donKt think IKll be strong
enough to part with it again.
'hich is why IKm writing this. I said that I have two things to
do before I leave, and writing this down had to come Mrst so you
 …HW BO……jW 1F

might understand when the realtor tells you why thereKs an abandoned
mausoleum near the pond in the back pasture.
I canKt let Diana stay here. IKm taking her with me and reburying her
closer to our hometown, near the place we Mrst met.
Tomeday, IKll revisit that place in the woods and see if I can do
something4 anything for the woman, but IKm not strong enough to
face it. "ot yet.
Wven now, I can feel the pull of that bottle out in the stream, begging
me to come back and take it. And even as I write this, I can feel IKm
being watched from the treeline, and I get this feeling that it isnKt her
this time.