One side of Alice’s mouth curled into a smile. If the stuff in the bottle was as described then it was the answer to all her problems, but what were the odds that it was yet another hallucinatory concoction?
Either way she had nothing to lose so she pulled out the cork, tipped her head back and chugged down the fluorescent pink liquid. It was sweet and reminded her of aniseed.
Smacking her lips together and sucking the last of the syrup off her tongue she placed the vial back upon the table where she’d found it then picked up a book and went over to the little door at the end of the hall, sat down and started to read.
The slim hardback volume looked like the other books she was used to and indeed was written in English, which was a pleasant surprise, even if the illustrations appeared a little fanciful. She opened the tome and glanced at a page at random. It read:
“Denizens of the farthest reaches of the northern climes include the Spiny Tailed Wumple Monkey, known for the uniqueness of its dung and for the forlorn cry it makes, which echoes around the mountain ranges…”
Alice sat up straight suddenly as a strange and bestial cry filled the air, startling her.