Magic Medicine
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MAGIC MEDICINE
Christopher Halstead was at the end of his tether. He was only 50 years
old but felt deep down in his soul that his useful life had come to an
end. To understand why it is necessary to go back some twenty-five years.
In 1992 Christopher married his childhood sweetheart Amy. He and Amy had
grown up in adjacent houses; attended the same schools; and had had an
unspoken 'understanding' from their teens. They only occasion they spent
time apart was whilst they were at university. Christopher went to Durham
to study law whilst Amy read psychology at Bristol. Even then the two
stayed faithful to each other and travelled the length of the country as
often as they could in order to spend time together.
Amy and Christopher married soon after they graduated and were both
fortunate to finding good jobs in Nottingham - Christopher with a firm of
solicitors and Amy with the East Midlands Health Trust. They bought a
small house in a pretty village just outside the city boundary and
settled down into a conventional but happy provincial life. Everything
seemed set for a successful marriage.
Both Amy and Christopher wanted children and it was the one
disappointment in their life that for five years they failed to conceive.
They consulted doctors and were told that there was no physical reason
why they could not have children and that they should continue trying.
One night in November 1997 Christopher and Amy were driving home from
dinner with friends. When driving, Christopher was scrupulous in avoiding
alcohol, and the night was clear and the roads dry. There was therefore
nothing untoward to alert Christopher to being especially careful of
oncoming traffic. The black jaguar car that piled into his front of-side
wing came out of nowhere. Christopher was forced off the road.
Unfortunately, at that point the road was crossing an embankment and
Christopher's car rolled down, ending up on its roof. It was a bad crash
and Christopher was knocked unconscious. He came to just as firemen and
paramedics were placing him on a stretcher. A paramedic saw his eyes
flicker and leaned over; "It's OK mate, we'll have you in the ambulance
in two ticks and get you off to hospital. In the meantime I'll just give
you this injection." He pushed a syringe of sedative into Christopher's
arm, and Christopher passed out again.
Christopher awoke in a single room in Nottingham Hospital. He hurt all
over and out of the corner of his eye could see he was wired up to a
number of machines and drips. A nurse was leaning over him. "Don't try
and move Mr Halstead," she said, "you have been involved in a serious
accident and are strapped into your bed." Christopher managed a groan.
The nurse allowed him a couple of sips of water that helped him
articulate the question that was burning within him; "Amy, how is Amy?"
"All in good time Mr Halstead," the nurse said soothingly. "Now that you
have come round, I just have to get a doctor to come and see you first."
She vanished from Christopher's sight and he fell back into semi-
consciousness. A doctor appeared within a few minutes. "Welcome back Mr
Halstead," the doctor said. "You have been under sedation for three days.
Your injuries are, I'm afraid, very severe and we will have to keep you
strapped down for a while yet." "That's alright doctor," Christopher
croaked, "but how is Amy?" The doctor's face stiffened. "I didn't really
want to tell you this just yet Mr Halstead, but I'm afraid your wife
didn't make it. The emergency services cut her free from the car, but she
died on her way to hospital. I'm so sorry." Christopher groaned in
despair and did not feel the injection with which the doctor sent him
back into blessed oblivion.
Christopher spent many weeks in hospital; first as his injuries healed
and then in rehabilitation as the medical team tried to get him back on
his feet. The damage his body had sustained in the crash was extreme and
he was told he would never be able to walk properly again. But
Christopher was a fighter and persevered. Even so the doctors insisted on
issuing him with a mobility scooter and crutches - and he soon found such
aids were essential.
The death of Christopher's beloved wife hit him extremely hard. Even
though he wasn't really well enough, he insisted in being wheeled to her
funeral and gave a short eulogy from his stretcher-bed. It took him
months to begin to start coming to terms with his loss, and he talked to
Amy constantly in his head. It was the memory of what she would have
expected of him that gave Christopher the fortitude to struggle through
his ordeal.
He was off work for months but eventually recovered to the stage where he
was able to resume some limited legal activity from home and,
occasionally, from the office. After a couple of years, however, even
this limited activity proved too much for him and he retired from
practice. A claim on the insurance of the car that had forced him off the
road provided a limited income so long as he was careful with his money.
Without Amy, work, or adequate disposable income, Christopher soon
slipped into a slough of despair. He started drinking and taking drugs.
Initially in order to reduce the constant pain he suffered, they soon
became a prop on which he increasingly relied.
Time passed; and we come to the present day. Christopher was, as has
already been stated, at the end of his tether. He had no life worth
speaking of; he was in constant pain; and his limited financial resources
were fast running out. He had just about come to the conclusion that he
needed to end his life through suicide. Pursuing this thought, he started
to accumulate a supply of powerful drugs in tablet form that he intended
to use to commit the act. He just needed another few tablets and he would
have sufficient to ensure he finished himself off properly and couldn't
be dragged back from the brink.
Thus on this particular day Christopher drove his mobility scooter into
Nottingham, heading for a pharmacy he knew might be prepared to sell him
the drugs he needed. However he still had some distance to cover when his
scooter developed a puncture. Swearing under his breath, Christopher
hauled himself out of his chair and onto his crutches. Painfully he set
off on the long walk to the pharmacy. The walk proved harder than he had
anticipated and he frequently had to pause to recover his strength. It
was on one such stop that he spotted a pharmacy he had never seen before.
"That's funny,' he thought, "I could have sworn that there was a cycle
shop there the last time I came this way." The chemist shop in question
was clearly not a new installation. Paint was peeling of the shop-front
and the windows were full of dusty old display items. Its name was
painted in faded script above the window; '.....(something
indecipherable) followed by 'R US'. "Um, that looks like a shop where
they might not be too particular about the restrictions on the quantity
of drugs they are allowed to sell to a single customer," Christopher
mused. "With that 'US' in the name it could be a branch of an American
company." He lurched his way up to the door and entered.
Inside the shop proved to be as he had anticipated. A long, mahogany
counter ran across the back and dusty cabinets on either sidewall were
full of strange medical appliances and old-fashioned packets of drugs.
There wasn't any sign of the proprietor. Staggering up to the counter,
Christopher bashed the ancient brass bell that stood there. A very
strange man emerged from behind a faded velvet curtain that separated the
shop from the rear part of the premises. Christopher assumed he must be
the pharmacist as he was wearing a dirty white coat. He also sported a
pair of horn-rimmed spectacles and a long white beard. Not exactly what
you expect from a modern chemist!
"Hallo Christopher, let me get you a chair," the strange old man said by
way of greeting. Thankfully Christopher sank into the proffered chair
before the oddness of the greeting struck him. "How do you know my name?"
he enquired; "I have never been into this shop before." "Oh I always know
the names of people who need my help," the man replied. "I am a wizard
you see and such skill comes with the job." Christopher was gobsmacked.
He had evidently encountered a lunatic. He struggled to get back onto his
feet and leave, but the old man put his hand on Christopher's shoulder
and gently pushed him back down again. "I know you are sceptical,
customers always are," he announced with a smile, "but I can assure you
that I really am a wizard and, what is more, I have something that will
help relieve you of your pain without your having to take the drastic
step you are contemplating."
It was this statement more than anything else that made Christopher
pause. He hadn't shared his thoughts on suicide with anyone, so how did
this stranger seem to know what he was planning? "I really do understand
and sympathise with your predicament," the Wizard continued, "but suicide
is not the only option. I have here a magic medicine that will relief
your pain; improve your mobility; and give you a new perspective on life.
If you follow the instructions on the packet, I can promise you an
improvement that will make your current thoughts redundant!"
Christopher thought furiously. "Maybe he does have some psychic power,"
he mused. "I'm not sure I believe in magic, but he certainly knows things
about me that he shouldn't!" "Tell me more," he said out loud, "I'm
willing to listen." "That is very fair," responded the Wizard. "The
medicine I am willing to sell you is transformative. So long as you
follow the instructions on the packet and complete the entire course of
treatment, life will undoubtedly become worth living for you again." He
produced, from under the counter a bottle of yellow liquid and a large
packet of pills. "There is just one thing I need from you," the Wizard
said. "The medicine needs to be customised to your specific needs, so I
require the lock of your wife's hair that you are carrying in a locket
around your neck." Christopher grabbed his throat. No one knew that he
carried a lock of Amy's hair with him at all times. "No you can't have
it," he snapped. "This locket of hair is all I have left of Amy and I'm
not going to part with it." The Wizard smiled kindly down at him with a
sorrowful expression in his eyes. "Think what Amy would really have
wanted for you," he said gently. "Would she have wanted you to use her
last gift to help you move forward, or to take her hair with you into
oblivion?" This rocked Christopher back on his heels. The Wizard was
right; Amy always had had a positive approach to life. She would have
wanted him to take whatever opportunity was offered to improve his
health.
"Very well, I will give you Amy's hair," Christopher said in a shaky
voice. "It is what she would have wanted. But how much is your treatment
going to cost me? You mentioned 'selling'." "I will use the hair for your
treatment and keep the locket as my payment," the Wizard replied.
Tentatively, Christopher unfastened the locket and handed it over. The
Wizard took out the lock of hair and put into a glass beaker. He uncorked
the bottle of yellow liquid and poured it over the hair. Instantly the
beaker started to glow and the liquid fizzed and bubbled as the colour
changed from yellow to pink. "Interesting," the Wizard muttered to
himself under his breath.
When the reaction in the beaker had calmed down, the Wizard poured the
liquid back into the bottle. The lock of Amy's hair had completely
disappeared. "Now, I want you to drink all the contents of this bottle
tonight before you go to sleep," the Wizard instructed. You will then
need to take four of the tablets, three times a day for a week. The pink
liquid is the principle medicine. It is very powerful and the tablets
will help your body cope with side effects."
Christopher took the proffered medicine and struggled out of the chair to
stand. "Oh, I have taken the liberty if repairing your mobility scooter
and bringing it here," the Wizard announced with a smile. "I thought you
would find that more comfortable that having to walk back to where you
left it." It was the fact that the Wizard had control over inanimate
objects that finally convinced Christopher that he was the 'genuine
article'. Whilst it might be possible to explain away their human
interaction as some weird form of hypnotism, there was no way that
explanation could be applied to a mobility scooter!
On the ride back home Christopher thought long and hard as to whether he
should take the medicine the Wizard had prepared for him. Finally he
decided that, on balance, he might as well. After all, when he had
entered the strange pharmacy he had been trying to source drugs to help
him commit suicide; if the new medicine turned out to be poisonous, it
really would make little difference.
That night, after Christopher had hauled himself into bed, he unscrewed
the bottle cap and downed the sparkling pink draught in one go. It tasted
of raspberries with hints of other summer fruits. "Well if that is going
to kill me, at least my last drink has been delicious," Christopher
thought as he lay back on the pillow. He fell immediately into a deep
sleep and enjoyed the first night of undisturbed rest in twenty years.
When he awoke the next morning he felt a little disorientated. Normally
he woke to a body wracked with pain. This morning, however, although he
still hurt, the discomfort was much less. "Well I'm still alive." He
thought. "Maybe that quack 'magic medicine' has some genuine restorative
properties after all." Gingerly he swung his legs out of bed and, to his
amazement was actually able to stand unaided. He walked gingerly to the
bathroom and relieved himself. As he sat on the toilet he couldn't help
noticing that the scars that crisscrossed his legs as a result of all the
surgery he had undergone were very much fainter. Also there was muscle
tone to his thighs where previously they had been thin and wasted.
After a shower - (during which he found he was able to move his arms and
shoulders much more freely) - he towelled down and returned to the
bedroom. "If the pink draught has had this miraculous effect, maybe the
pills will bring about further improvement," he thought. He found the box
on his bedside table and quickly swallowed four.
Dressing was much easier than it had been for years - (he actually
managed to get his socks on at the first attempt). "I wonder if I dare
try walking without my crutches?" he thought. Bravely he set off for the
kitchen without them and, apart from a couple of minor stumbles, made the
journey safely. "I'm suddenly ravenously hungry," it occurred to him. "I
think I fancy a fry-up." But, of course, he didn't have any bacon,
mushrooms, or baked beans. "Mm, eggs on their own aren't very appealing,"
he murmured, so, getting his wallet he walked through to the garage. He
was just about to get into his mobility scooter when a thought struck
him; "I feel so good this morning, maybe I could walk to the corner shop;
its only about 100 yards." Greatly daring he decided to try it. It took
him a little while to make the journey but he got there and back safely
and without any real pain. The shopkeeper was amazed at Christopher's
remarkable transformation. "You look ten years younger Mr Halstead," he
remarked. "It must be the fact that you aren't in as much pain."
The fry-up was a great success and after a meal larger than he had eaten
in years, Christopher sat back replete. After his meal Christopher felt
sleepy. "Must be all that unaccustomed food," he thought, and headed back
to bed. It was mid-afternoon before he woke up again. He felt much more
relaxed and his routine pain had virtually disappeared. "Amazing," he
thought, "maybe magic truly is involved in the healing." As he swung his
legs out of bed he couldn't help noticing that the improved musculature
he had noticed in the morning was now overlaid with a generous layer of
fat. Christopher stood up and looked critically at his naked self in the
mirror. His hips, thighs were indeed sleek and smooth and his scars had
faded totally. As he turned sideways he noticed that his bottom looked
rounder as well.
Gingerly he embarked on a series of squats and stretches. To his relief
he was able move flexibly and without discomfort. This un accustomed
exercise resulted in his tummy rumbling and he had to bolt for the
lavatory. Without wishing to be crude, his time there was extensive and
violent! "My goodness I wouldn't have believed one good meal and a little
light exercise could have had such a dramatic impact," he groaned.
Finally he felt able to move out of the bathroom and get dressed. The
development in the lower half of his body meant that his trousers were
tight around the hips and, equally surprisingly, loose at the waist and
somewhat too long in the leg.
Christopher was hungry again so cooked himself another meal and swallowed
a further four tablets. This triggered another long afternoon on the
toilet! By now Christopher was becoming a little concerned about the
frequency and strength of his bowel movements, but he still took his
third dose of tablets. On a whim he weighed himself and was surprised to
see that he had shed several pounds in the day in spite of having the
biggest meals he had eaten for years. "I wouldn't have thought it
possible to lose so much weight simply by going to the lavatory," he
mused.
The next morning Christopher felt further improved. He almost bounded out
of bed and, in the process, tripped over his overlong pyjama legs.
Looking in the mirror he came to the conclusion he had lost some four
inches in height overnight. "Very strange," he thought, "but maybe a
price worth paying for my feeling so much better."
His inspection of his body also revealed a further narrowing of his waist
and now his torso seemed slimmer as well. He looked even younger than the
day before. "That can't all be due to the cessation of pain," he
surmised, "it has to be something to do with that 'magic medicine'."
As his clothes fitted even less well than the previous day, Christopher
dragged on a baggy tracksuit top and trousers and slipped his feet into a
pair of trainers. (He needed to wear three pairs of socks to pad out the
shoes, as they were too large for his feet.) Feeling really bright and
perky, Christopher decided to risk a longer walk. He felt better and
better the further and faster he walked and, in the end, completed a
three mile circuit before returning home. Another hearty lunch; more
tablets; (and a further extended visit to the bathroom), was followed by
an afternoon nap for a couple of hours.
This pattern of enhanced appetite, exercise, and physical change
continued for the rest of the week. By the seventh day Christopher was a
full 60lbs lighter than he had been when he started taking the magic
medicine - (and he hadn't been very heavy to begin with!) His body had
changed considerably to accommodate his weight loss. He was shorter; much
slighter, with a slim waist; curvaceous bottom and hips; long smooth
legs; and silky skin that showed no trace of previous operational
scarring. In addition his hair had grown rapidly and now hung just below
his shoulders, and he looked closer to twenty-five than his true age of
fifty. "If I didn't have a cock and balls, and had grown breasts, I'd
think I was turning into a woman," Christopher mused. "Whatever it was
made of, that is one powerful medicine! I think I should go back and see
the Wizard to check whether there are likely to be any further surprises
in store for me."
This time he walked into Nottingham. It wasn't easy as his trainers -
(the only shoes he could wear) - were far too large and he was constantly
worried about stepping out of them. His tracksuit trousers would only
stay up because he has improvised a belt out of a length of rope - (his
own belts didn't have enough holes to fasten round his much thinner
waist!) He half expected the old pharmacy to have disappeared but it was
still there when he arrived at the parade of shops. He went in.
The Wizard was standing behind the counter. "Ah, good morning
Christopher. I see the medicine has done the trick. You look so much
better than when I saw you a week ago." "Agree," replied Christopher,
"but not without consequences. You can see how my body has altered. What
magic did you put in that potion?" "Still down and I will explain," said
the Wizard gently, indicating a chair. Christopher sat.
"You see Christopher, what neither you nor Amy knew at the time of your
accident, was that she had just conceived and was carrying an embryo that
would, in time, have developed into your daughter. Naturally the baby
also died in the crash." Tears welled up and cascaded down Christopher's
cheeks. To learn now, after twenty years that the crash had robbed him
not only of Amy and his personal health, but also the longed-for child
they had both desired was too much to contemplated. He collapsed in a
paroxysm of sobs. The Wizard patted his shoulder. "There, don't take on
so. I know this news is a great shock, but all is not lost. The yellow
potion I showed you originally is a generic magic draught. The addition
of Amy's hair personalised it to the two of you, and by its changing
colour to pink I knew that her unborn child would have been a girl. Had
the liquid turned blue it would have indicated a boy."
"It is your undying love for Amy that has been the key to your recovery.
The magic medicine has given the soul of your child a second chance of
life. You are slowly turning into the young woman your daughter would
have been had she survived the crash. The changes you have been
experiencing will continue for a few more days and then you will become
your own daughter. Reality will shift a little so that it will have been
'Christopher' who died with Amy in the car and 'Veronica' who survived."
Christopher couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. "But none of that
makes any sense," he spluttered. "A newly conceived embryo could not have
survived outside her mother's womb!" "Don't try and apply human logic,"
the Wizard advised gently. "It is magic we are dealing with here. Now go
home and rest while the final changes to your body take place."
"But even if what you say is true, how can I suddenly start living as my
daughter? I know nothing about how to be a twenty year old woman!" The
Wizard smiled. "Trust me Veronica, when the time comes you will know.
Gradually your femininity will take control of your body and you will
behave totally naturally as the woman everyone will believe you to have
been since birth. Only you will retain a memory of the last twenty years
as 'Christopher'. Those memories will lodge at the back of your mind so
that they do not interfere with your new life going forward, but when you
need them they will be there for you to draw upon. Think of it this way,
you will bring to Veronica knowledge of her mother that she could never
have acquired through a conventional existence. You are fortunate in
being able to return to being twenty years old with a repository of
masculine experience you can draw upon should you need to!"
"Now, as I say, go back home. The changes to your body will be complete
in another three days. In the meantime I will use a little more magic to
amend your wardrobe to something more befitting a pretty young woman." In
a state of shock Veronica - (s)he could no longer think of herself as
'Christopher' - got up and moved to the door. "I think I want to thank
you for giving both of us this second chance," she said in a confused
voice. "But everything seems so weird." The Wizard gently hugged her.
"Don't worry, it will all become clear. Just go with the flow."
The Wizard stood on the doorstep of his shop, watching unto Veronica
vanished out of sight around a corner. "It is really refreshing
occasionally to be able to right a wrong that has happened to innocent
and well-deserving people," he mused; "It makes a pleasant change from
tricking misbehaving men into becoming bimbos!" He went back inside the
shop - where the sign 'Spells R Us' now shone brightly on the newly
freshened fascia. There was a gentle sighing sound as the shop slowly
dematerialised, to be replaced by a boring old cycle store!
Veronica slowly made her way home. Her mind was racing. How could she
believe such a fanciful story? But the evidence was there right in front
of her eyes. The house she entered was no longer 'Christopher's'. The
decorations and furnishings now reflected the tastes of a fashionable,
fairly wealthy, young woman. In the bedroom the closets were full of
pretty dresses, blouses, skirts, and tailored suits. The drawers of her
bureau were neatly laid out with bras, panties, hose and, blushingly,
some rather naughty sexy lingerie for 'play-time'!
Wearily Veronica peeled off her crumpled and worn tracksuit. She watched
as it and the trainers faded into oblivion. Lying down on the bed
Veronica fell into another of the regular deep sleeps she had been
experiencing over the last few days. When she awoke refreshed, she was
thrilled to see little bumps on her chest marking the development of new
breasts. 'Down below' things were much reduced in size!
As the Wizard had said, it took a further three days for Veronica's
physical changes to become complete, but, on the fourth morning, the
reflection she saw in her mirror was that of a beautiful your woman in
the prime of health. She felt a warm glow suffuse through her body as she
looked at the person she had become. "Thank you Dad for giving me the
chance of life," she whispered to herself. "I promise I will make you and
Mum proud of me from now on."
Maddie
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