Flash sheet of six pencil drawn potion bottles, several with a ribbon banner reading Drink Me, shown in black and grey.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Drink Me potion bottle flash sheet

Black and grey · Flash

A sheet of six square panels, each with a pencil drawing of a different potion bottle, from a corked flask to a tall ornate bottle on a lattice stand. Most bottles have a ribbon scroll that reads Drink Me, and the shading is soft grey graphite with fine linework. The panels sit on a black background with the words Drink Me in script at the bottom left.

Scroll Flash sheet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

You find the potion stall on the last night of the fair, when the dodgems have stopped and the generator is coughing itself to sleep behind the big wheel. Mother Vell keeps it under a canvas awning the colour of weak tea, with six bottles lined up on green baize like stopped clocks. Each one wears a paper ribbon knotted at the neck, and each ribbon says the same thing in curling letters: Drink Me.

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You ask what they do. She laughs, a dry sound like a cork coming out of a bottle. 'They don't do a thing to you, love. They do something to whatever you pour in.' She taps the tallest flask, the one on the lattice stand, and tells you about a boy who once poured his father's bad temper into it and walked home lighter, while the temper sat fizzing in the glass until it turned sour and had to be tipped into the canal.

Then she asks what you have brought. You have a shilling, a ticket stub for the Ghost Train, and the sort of hunger that gets people into trouble. She takes the shilling, rolls it across the baize, and nudges the squat bottle with the loose ribbon towards you. The glass is warm, as if somebody has been holding it all evening.

You draw the cork. It smells of hot pennies and rain on canvas. The ribbon unrolls across your palm and the letters run a little, the way ink does when it has been licked. Behind you the fair is packing itself into lorries. When you turn round, Mother Vell is gone, the awning is gone, and in the grass where it stood there is only a shilling, heads up, and a strip of paper that reads, in your own handwriting, Drink Me again.