She had said it would make him beautiful. She had also mentioned a price; but he hadn't cared. He had given her her money, taken the potion, and left the old crone in her alley.
Jim had been a homely man, to say the least. Long ears, long nose, and a uni-brow were the defining features of his existence. He had been teased for his looks for years, and it had left scars on him; he was afraid to go outside, afraid to meet strangers. He would complain about his love life but that would imply he had one to complain about.
So he had taken the potion, thinking anything could be better than this. He needed something; anything.
He drank it without thought.
Now he stood in front of a mirror, looking at himself. He was handsome; no, gorgeous. He was a sculpted Adonis of a man, perfect in all aspects. And he was happy about it, flexing his new muscle and falling for himself in the mirror. However, he knew that the only way for it to matter was for him to go out.
Getting dressed in an old pair of jeans and a button-up shirt, he took a deep breath and stepped outside into a world he had feared so long. He walked down the hall; people staring as he moved, taking in his breathtaking beauty; and he knew it was good. He made it to the door, opened it, and for the first time in a long time, looked out over the sun-lit streets unafraid.
Now people were staring. He felt proud. They didn't say much, they didn't stare for long, but they certainly liked looking at him. Which is the point, right?, he thought to himself.
He strolled down the sidewalk, catching eyes and turning heads, enjoying the air off the tree-lined street and the view of the red brick buildings in the historical sector where he lived and worked. He made it to a tiny local bar, his destination in which to test his newfound glory. He opened the door and stepped in.
Everyone stopped. They turned and stared at the new face that had just stepped in. All eyes were on him; he could feel it.
And then they went about their business.
He was mildly surprised, but thought nothing of it. He sat down at the bar, feeling happy and like he "fit in" for the first time in his life. He offered to buy an attractive woman a drink; because, that is what you're suppose to do, right? She ignored him as though she didn't hear him.
He tried again. She still ignored him.
He waves his hand in front of her face. Touched her, poked her. Eventually he grew frustrated and pounded the table; soon, he was throwing furniture.
The crowd complained about the broken furniture, but not him.
That's when he realized: the price. He would be noticed, yes; but only once. He was beautiful; but no one cared.
Jim had been a homely man, to say the least. Long ears, long nose, and a uni-brow were the defining features of his existence. He had been teased for his looks for years, and it had left scars on him; he was afraid to go outside, afraid to meet strangers. He would complain about his love life but that would imply he had one to complain about.
So he had taken the potion, thinking anything could be better than this. He needed something; anything.
He drank it without thought.
Now he stood in front of a mirror, looking at himself. He was handsome; no, gorgeous. He was a sculpted Adonis of a man, perfect in all aspects. And he was happy about it, flexing his new muscle and falling for himself in the mirror. However, he knew that the only way for it to matter was for him to go out.
Getting dressed in an old pair of jeans and a button-up shirt, he took a deep breath and stepped outside into a world he had feared so long. He walked down the hall; people staring as he moved, taking in his breathtaking beauty; and he knew it was good. He made it to the door, opened it, and for the first time in a long time, looked out over the sun-lit streets unafraid.
Now people were staring. He felt proud. They didn't say much, they didn't stare for long, but they certainly liked looking at him. Which is the point, right?, he thought to himself.
He strolled down the sidewalk, catching eyes and turning heads, enjoying the air off the tree-lined street and the view of the red brick buildings in the historical sector where he lived and worked. He made it to a tiny local bar, his destination in which to test his newfound glory. He opened the door and stepped in.
Everyone stopped. They turned and stared at the new face that had just stepped in. All eyes were on him; he could feel it.
And then they went about their business.
He was mildly surprised, but thought nothing of it. He sat down at the bar, feeling happy and like he "fit in" for the first time in his life. He offered to buy an attractive woman a drink; because, that is what you're suppose to do, right? She ignored him as though she didn't hear him.
He tried again. She still ignored him.
He waves his hand in front of her face. Touched her, poked her. Eventually he grew frustrated and pounded the table; soon, he was throwing furniture.
The crowd complained about the broken furniture, but not him.
That's when he realized: the price. He would be noticed, yes; but only once. He was beautiful; but no one cared.
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