e a journey. Do you think you can do this on your own?”“Well, is there anything you can give me? A knife, perhaps?”“I will give you supernatural aid! But what can you give me?”“I have five shillings,” Lysander took the coins from his pocket. The old man seized them and crawled into his shack.“Here, youngin,” the man reappeared, “a never-emptying bottle of whiskey.”“A bottle of whiskey!” Lysander laughed, “You jest.”“Have you ever tried whiskey before?” a defense-tone arose in the man’s voice.“No, only a bit of beer.”“Then do not underestimate its power! I tell you, this whiskey will astonish you with its….” He paused and then whispered, “magic.”“Magic for a drunkard, mayhap!”“Son! I am the only guidance you have for your journey! Drink the damned whiskey!”The boy nodded, took the bottle and left the crazy, old man to his shack. Lysander paused a few feet away to taste the whiskey. He brought the bottle to his lips and tilted it upwards. A piercing shot of whiskey attacked his mouth like a sharpened knife, scraping his tongue and burning his throat.“Ahh!” the young boy cried, “Blast that nasty old man!” But, Lysander remembered the old man’s words, ‘I am your only guidance you have for your journey.’ The old man probably had more bologna in him than the sausage itself. He probably created the absurd story while under the influence of his moonshine. Drunken bastard. But what if the old man was telling the truth? Maybe, just maybe there was a beautiful girl waiting for Lysander to carry her off in his arms and call him her hero. I want to believe it, Lysander decided. And with that he brought the whiskey to his lips once more.“Yow!” he shouted, and then breathed in deeply, “That is some stron...
