Weird Tea Novels & Stories

I get distracted by the pot whistling, quickly get out of my chair, move the pot, and turn the stove off before it wakes Eli. By the time I’ve gotten the mugs out, she’s returned and drops some tea bags I’ve never seen or smelt before into the mugs, pouring water before I can question her about them. “Drink then I’ll show you.” She says, and so I did. It’s not like I have anything better to do. After a few sips, she hands me something weird because it was all rolled up, old, delicate, and a little dusty.

“Would it be too surreal for you if I offered you a cup of tea? Or coffee. Or I have hot chocolate, if you prefer.” “Too much for me? You’re not weirded out?” Aiden asks, and there’s still an uneasy tension to him, one that makes me want to smooth the creases out from between his eyes and tuck something warm into his hands. “Aiden, you met Bellmouth, and he’s not the end of everything strange in my life. My weirdness meter maxed out then broke years ago. Are you weirded out?"

Something inside me had shifted, and I hated how Peter’s actions lingered in my thoughts. Steam curled upward from the cup of tea in front of me, its herbal scent invading my senses. I wrinkled my nose, leaning closer to inspect it. “What is this, Carolina? It smells awful—like pee,” I grumbled, lifting the cup and sniffing it cautiously before setting it back down. Carolina chuckled, unbothered by my reaction. “It’s mixcolar, an herbal tea Mrs. Evans brought back from Canada. It works wonders. Just a few sips, and you’ll feel better.” She set another cup of the same tea on the counter nearby.

Vincent sat up straight, his voice gentle, very polite. Zoe rolled her eyes in her heart, smiling on the outside: "I've never drunk tea, I don't understand these things, you should try to tell me." Vincent thought to himself, the corner of his mouth couldn't hide the smile: "Drink a pot of Earl Grey tea with a bright citrus aroma, gentle vanilla, and a little spicy. You don't know that this is a precious tea; only a small amount is produced each year. Only for members. Ordinary people can't drink even if they want to."

I nodded, before we both walked to said table. My face scrunched up in distaste as I took a sip of the matcha tea. It tasted nothing like I'd thought it would. Hell, it tasted like mashed pumpkin leaves tinged with a dash of syrup and something unpleasant. I honestly had no idea how this was Janine's favourite drink. “You don't like it, do you?” Oscar asked, as I tried but failed to keep on a normal expression. “It's horrible,” I muttered, and he chuckled then gave a nod to the waitress. “What are you doing?”

But I needed to find the strength somewhere because I needed Darren to find me the herbs that I needed to mix. “I don't know what's going on. I'm so weak-” More coughing so I reached for the cup again and Darren stopped me. “What’s this? This isn't water." “It’s the tea your brother asked that I should be given.” He lifted the cup to his nose and sniffed it. “This is just wrong. Firstly, Eli doesn't even like tea, he prefers coffee and also, nobody in this house drinks whatever this is. I don't even know what brand this is.”

"What do you want to drink?" Brandy asked me, nudging me in my exposed side. She shook me away from my daydreams. I was currently having quite the difficulty deciphering what drinks on the menu were tea - or which were even drinks; Lucky Eight, Chilly Thrill, Holy Night, Red Slapper. Who even named these drinks anyway? They probably had to take some super odd college class to come up with names this weird.

I can say his unique personality piqued my interest just as how much The Flesh sparked my horror. Ezra brushed his shiny black bangs behind his ears—revealing a hearing device that most of my mother’s special recruits wore—and brought the tea cup before handing it to me. As I took a sip, a sigh escaped my mouth from the relief Ezra’s special tea blend afflicted upon my insides. The tea he made is thin yet it’s not dry, a suitable condiment to take especially if you’re tired on the previous day. I guess managing Elaine’s rescuing process drained the last bit of youth energy I had left in me. I took another sip and heaved another sigh.

Now, standing at the kitchen counter and staring at the so-called drink in front of him, Taiga felt his stomach churn before he even touched it. The smell was foul, offensive, the kind that crept up his nostrils and settled into his throat until he wanted to gag. The brown-green liquid sat thick in a small shot glass, steaming faintly, as though it resented being contained. He didn’t know what had been mixed in there, hot sauce, raw egg, maybe even spoiled milk, but he was silently praying he wouldn’t die from disgust the moment it hit his tongue.