The Apothecary Diaries Chapter 1 Novels & Stories

I asked no one in particular but the dusty jewelleries stared back at me giving me my answer. I turned to move but my leg hit the vanity drawer and I heard a small plop, “Ouch!” I winced in pain as I rubbed my toes, bending down to pick what had fallen, it was a book and it was dusty. Dusting it off made me cough repeatedly and I stared at the book turning the page open but every page as well was covered in dust although preserved. I dusted a few pages off and the crisp but clean handwriting stared back at me. I read the first page and Immediately closed it. It was Jonathan’s mom’s diary.I flipped through the book and realized that she had written a lot and even almost used up the book. I wa

And curiosity, in my world, always ended in blood. END OF CHAPTER 1

No redemption that could wash this clean. Finally, irrevocably, proof that wouldn't disappear with dawn. His throat constricted as if hands were closing around it. The apothecary's familiar scents curled through the air, sharp citrus peels left too long to dry until they'd gone brittle as old promises. Bruised mint crushed under careless fingers releasing its dying sweetness, the lingering thread of bitter myrrh that clung to everything Pierce touched. And beneath it all, something colder, sourer that didn't belong.

She turns quickly to confront the old woman, only to find the rocking chair sitting empty, gently moving back and forth as if someone had just gotten up. A chill makes its way down her spine as she lowers her hood. Her long ebony curls cascade down her back as she loosens them from the tight bun they were once confined in. "This has really given me a headache" she thinks rubbing her temples in an attempt to ease some of the discomfort. Her young face pale and pinched with pain, she once more glances around the now empty cottage before turning to leave, bringing with her the scent of incense.

But relaxation wasn't what I had in mind. I stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, running my fingers along the spines of the books until I found what I was looking for. The worn leather-bound volume felt heavy in my hands as I carried it over to the coffee table and opened it to the marked page. The intricate illustrations of whips, chains, and other BDSM paraphernalia made my pulse quicken with anticipation.

she muttered, taking the flute from my hand and turning it over with a look of profound sadness before she tucked it into her belt. I moved deeper into the ruins of a side room that looked like an apothecary, and I found rows of ceramic jars that had been smashed against the walls, their contents long since washed away by the rain. There was a stack of half-burnt books in the corner, and as I touched one, the pages crumbled into grey flakes, but I could still see the hand-drawn diagrams of stars and flowers that showed a life dedicated to understanding the world rather than conquering it.

I had already made that vow in the dark. I took two of my best trackers for the morning’s rounds, quiet wolves with good noses and better memories, and we worked the path of the tray backward. Kitchen. Pantry. Scullery door. I spoke to scullions and dishboys, to the pot-witch with onions on her breath, to the night steward who wrote with an elegant hand and sweated when he lied. The ledger showed an oddity: a new apothecary’s stamp on a bundle of minted tea that wasn’t on last month’s accounts. “Gifted by a patron,” the steward stammered. No name, of course. “A courtesy for the King’s table.” “Not for his table,” I said, letting my voice cool to winter. “For his prisoner.”

A very elegant design covered the book cover and the words written on the first page filled my heart with nostalgia and longlines. "Personal diary of Aurora Sapphire Brown" Flipping through the pages of the diary at once my eyes saw how her handwriting changed from a kid to an adult...as the dates and years passed with a flip my hand stopped on her last entry ...... Date 27th Feb Time :2 am I can't sleep again ... The medicines are of no use when his eyes haunt my nights... Those cold eyes were again looking at me with hate... Hate is nothing new. I am used to it now...but his hate matters

He needs medical attention," Sharon exclaimed, with a voice cracking as if she was almost crying or she had been crying before. "I am going as fast as possible, Sharon. You don't want us getting stopped by the police, do you?" Bobby shouted back at her. Shortly after that, I slipped back into the lands of dreams. When I woke back up, I was in an apartment, the room was littered with books, and medical supplies and it smelled like a hospital, a mixture of the smell of medicated spirit mixed with drugs filled the air and I hated it. I tried to turn my head to the right, using all my strength, my sight was met by blood stained cotton wool which was was piled up beside me, this made me to immedi

"We’ll keep him secured." I was already running. The apothecary was tucked between a pawn shop and a tattoo parlor. It was a cramped, dimly lit space that smelled heavily of dried sage, sulfur, and old parchment. Floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves were packed with amber glass jars, hand-labeled tins, and ceramic crocks containing rare roots and preserved organs. Bundles of herbs hung from the rafters, and a thick coating of dust covered everything except for a heavy brass scale on the marble counter.