Untitled | Anthony Dinh (12)

"What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others." - Pericles

Dr. Studor sat at his desk, scribbling intensely into his notebook where he concocted ideas for chemical formulas and potions. His hair was a mop of black and gray and his penetrating brown eyes were aimed towards his work. For years, he had wanted to create a concoction that will cure all diseases in the world by simple contact. Everyone who knows the doctor calls him delusional -- insane even. And yet the doctor continued his work. 

The sky was a black mist that loomed over the quiet, sleeping city. The lights that had so filled the area during the day shut off slowly one by one as the people drifted off into the warm embrace of slumber. The doctor's light will not go off. Not for a long time. You see, when the doctor is determined to get something, he will work hard to get it. And he won't stop. No matter the cost. 

Eventually, the doctor closed the notebook and slammed his fist onto the table. "35 years," he muttered angrily. "I have worked on this potion for 35 years. Yet, I have made little to no progress. I might as well resign myself to the fate of being forgotten by even the lowest members of the scientific community."

He had sacrificed his entire life for this project. He had no friends, wife, children, job and was basically living on welfare, and worst of all, he had no toilet. Whatever waste he produced went right into the concoction prototype. 

Suddenly, a bright light shone from his notebook and one of the diagrams began moving and leaped out. The doctor couldn't believe his eyes. There was a potion right there in front of him.  He took out a piece of paper and cut his finger. Wincing, he took the potion and poured a small bit onto his finger. The wound disappeared.

"Yes!" he screamed. "Yes, I have finally done it! 35 years have not gone into waste!" He danced around. He leaped and hollered. He ran around in circles. If not for the height of this man, a passerby might have mistaken him to be a child.

"What a wonderful day!" said the doctor. "I can't wait to sell this beauty into the market tomorrow."

Of course, he couldn't have noticed that around this time, his next door neighbor passed away from cardiac arrest.

____________________________________________________________________________

The townspeople laughed. A potion that could cure all diseases known to mankind? Who has heard of such a thing?

"It can and I can prove it!" the doctor declared. He took out a piece of paper and gave himself a paper cut. Then, he poured out the potion. The crowd gasped in disbelief as it healed. 

"May I give it a try?" a coughing boy asked in the crowd. Based on the tissue she was holding and the blood it contained, this girl probably had tuberculosis.

"Sure thing, madam!" the doctor laughed. "I'll cure you in a jiffy!" The doctor took out the concoction and gave it to the boy.

As soon as the potion reached her lips, the girl felt something in her stomach. But nothing happened. "Well?" the girl's mother asked the doctor.

"I'm sure something will happen!" the doctor stated. "Let me give you more!"

The girl sipped from the potion again, but nothing happened. "What is the meaning of this?" the mother asked.

"It's okay, mother," said the boy. "It probably wasn't going to work anyway." Suddenly, the boy's skin turned bright red. "Mommy, what is happening to me?" he asked innocently. "I don't know!" squealed the mother. She turned to the doctor. "Do something!" she screamed.

The doctor hastily shoved more of the potion into the boy's mouth. As soon as he did that, the boy grew larger and larger as the crowd screamed and scampered away. Within seconds, the boy burst like a balloon.

Guts, intestines, and blood flew onto the passerby as they screamed and scampered out of the way. The boy's mother was on her knees, grabbing all that remained of her son on the ground and screamed. The doctor had never heard such a scream before. It was a combination of grief, fear, and anger. The police attempted to take her away, but she just sat there screaming. Eventually, she fell unconscious and was escorted away.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted a man with a thick mustache. "How could you lie about something like this?" hollered another woman. "Sorcery!" came another cry.

"It can! I'll show you all again!" The man did the same process with the paper and cured himself. Suddenly, a man with a top hat and a thick gray mustache fell over. The woman next to him screamed and attempted to shake him awake. The police ran over to him and felt for a heartbeat. "He's dead!" one of them screamed. "The mayor's dead!"

The crowd angrily turned to the poor alchemist. He scampered away and scampered up his apartment. Locking the door, he quickly went through all of his diagrams like a madman. "What?" he whispered. "What have I done wrong?" 

He did not have to think long, because the crowd kicked down the door and swarmed the area. A group of people analyzed his work and ripped it up. "My work! My 35 years of plans!" shrieked the alchemist, running over to the remains of his notebook before being pushed down by the mob.

"People like you," said a man with a pitchfork, "don't deserve to be remembered." The doctor looked around. He was surrounded. He thought of all the years he wasted. All the people he hurt. The turmoil that he cost the city. His legacy as a villain. A murderer. With tears in his eyes, he closed his eyes and waited.

"What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others." - Pericles