TRUE or FALSE ...it's a killer.
copyright © gregstensonstories 2011
Every month, and ever since either of them could remember, John would tell a long rambling story to his two best friends, Henry and Jack. He would hold them enthralled and there was always a question at the end of the story. After John had finished they would have to guess whether the story was ‘True or False’.Usually the stories would be told whilst they were on a Sunday walk or on the way home after the gym or late at night after returning from the pub. At Christmas or birthdays there’d be a special story, a seasonal story, it would have an extra twist.They were all life long friends since primary school and were never far apart from each other. They were born in the same street, went to the same schools, played in the same football teams and shared the same apartment at University.
Henry’s favourite story was the chilling tale of ‘The Twin Sisters’ who were orphaned at birth.
Their mother had never known who the father was and the labour had been very difficult, and unfortunately she died shortly afterwards. The twins were taken in and raised by a wicked Aunt. They were kept in the house from the moment they were brought home. They never attended any school or nursery. The Aunt was so strict they were never allowed out to play. They had no friends, and there was no record of them at all, not even a birth certificate. They had never been seen by a Doctor - technically they didn’t exist.As the twins got older, and the Aunt more demanding, they were required to do all the cooking, all the cleaning and to attend to their Aunt’s every need and whim. If they didn’t please her, they would be beaten and locked in their rooms without food, sometimes for days on end. They could never escape as the windows and doors were locked and bolted.One of the twins was slightly taller, a little stronger and she became the dominant one, the one with all of the ideas. Now teenagers, she would lead the other in their spiteful pranks that they played on their Aunt from time to time. They would run away laughing and mocking when they were found out. The Aunt’s health was faltering, she needed a walking stick to get around and the days were gone when she could chase them and spank them. The dominant twin would always manage to get her sister to take the blame, the ‘guilty’ one would then be locked up and extra helpings of ice cream and biscuits would go the dominant one.“I wish she was dead,” said the shorter.“I’ll tell,” said the taller.Birthdays were special days for the twins. The Aunt would allow them to dress up, and to eat whatever they liked for that one day of the year. As they grew older they were allowed to cook and bake whatever they wished, they would take it in turns each birthday.On their eighteenth birthday it was the shorter twin who had the honour of choosing their birthday meal, she could choose whatever she wanted, whichever desert she fancied. The taller had to prepare and do all the cooking.The night before the big day they lay awake long into the night too excited to sleep. They would finally be reaching adulthood, the treats, the presents and the birthday meal that the taller one would have to cook. She asked her sister to choose whatever she wanted; whatever was her wildest dream, for it would never come again. This birthday marked the end of their childhood and they would start a new life. She thought long and hard as she watched the stars in the sky through the skylight window above her bed. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together praying that her wish would come true.“What is it, what is it” asked the taller.“You know exactly what I wish for my sister…exactly”She did know and they blew goodnight kisses to one another before they settled down to sleep.Their birthday arrived and they enjoyed their first day as adults and wondered just what it would be like to be free, to meet other people and to perhaps one day marry. The taller began to prepare her sister’s special birthday meal, she spent hours in the kitchen and worked hard to make sure it was exactly to her sister’s satisfaction. Throughout the afternoon, every hour or so the shorter would knock on the kitchen door, curious what the taller was cooking, she couldn’t wait but she was sure her sister would surprise her and delight her. The shorter thought the house was quieter than normal, she hadn’t seen the Aunt all morning, her bedroom door was closed so she thought she too would surprise her later, she knew she would be at the party, she’d never missed a single one in all the eighteen years.The grandfather clock in the hall chimed five o’clock, the smells emanating from the kitchen had been driving the shorter crazy so when the taller shouted ‘Dinner is ready!’ she was excited beyond belief. The dining room doors sprung open. The dining table was set so elegantly, she had lit candles and poured wine, it was fit for a Queen, the shorter thought.The taller welcomed her to the table and they both sat down across from one another as usual. They said grace and wished each other a happy birthday and they began to eat.First they had soup, a delicious cream of celery broth. They drank some wine, a red wine that told the shorter they would be having meat. And then to the main course. The taller lifted the gleaming chrome covers from the serving platters and told the shorter to ‘tuck in.’ ‘It’s what you’ve always wanted’, she said. The shorter wasted no time at all and filled her plate with potatoes, vegetables and of course the meat. They both began to eat heartily and drank more wine. It was the best birthday meal they could ever remember. The shorter realised someone was missing. It had been quiet all day and again now, the high-backed carver chair at the end of the table was empty.‘Where is Aunty?’ asked the shorter.‘She’s here’ said the taller.‘But I haven’t seen her all day, she has never missed our birthday, not once’ said the shorter.‘And she hasn’t missed this one either’ said the taller.‘But she isn’t here’‘Oh yes she is…you’re eating her’ said the taller.Whilst listening to the story Henry and Jack hadn’t asked a question, on hearing the end they had made retching noises thinking about how the Aunt had ended up on the dinner table.
‘So?’ asked John, ‘Is it True or false?’
They talked between them, still thinking how disgusting the story was but they both came to the same answer.
‘True’ they said in unison, and as usual John would always make them wait for the answer.
‘Yes, it’s True, they ate their Aunt and the next day escaped from the house and lived a long and happy life together.'
Jack’s favourite story was ‘The Boy with No Heart’.Long ago, in fact right back in the time of Dickens, John began. There was an orphan boy who was different from all the other boys and girls. In fact there was no other child like him in the whole world. His life started the same as the other children, he grew up and went to school and played games and did everything normally. No one ever suspected that he was different in any way.He grew older and was made to work just as the other orphans were. One day he would be sweeping chimneys, the next he’d be fetching and cleaning and he grew to be a strong, healthy young man. His life was unremarkable and eventually the time came for him to be put into ‘service’ with a family in the country.The years passed and he did his duty, he was considered to be the hardest working, the most loyal out of all the household’s servants. By the age of thirty the Master of the house became a little curious as to why the young man, who had worked with them for twelve years now, had never been ill, and had never missed a day’s work in his life.Twenty more long years went by and the Master’s curiosity grew more and more for the servant was now fifty and had not changed since the day he was thirty. He worked as hard if not harder then ever, he still had never been ill, not for even a day and he seemed happy in his work and sought no comforts or relationships. It was the fact that he had remained single and despite several of the younger women in the house falling for his good looks and charms, he had shunned them, seemingly oblivious to their advances.One day the mystery started to unravel. He fell down the long flight of stairs from the first floor to the ground and it appeared that he had broken his leg. The Doctor was called and said that he should go to the local hospital to be x-rayed and for the leg to be put in plaster.This was highly unusual for the man, who had never even so much as been inside a Doctor’s surgery. He was kept in for observations ‘as a precaution’ they said, just until the evening when he would be allowed home. Later that day he was sat up, as cheerful as ever waiting for the Doctor to send him home. The Doctor arrived and purely as a matter of routine checked him over. The ward was full of nurses and the Master and Mistress, who had both grown very fond of him, were there to collect him.The Doctor examined his leg; he checked the plaster cast and then took his stethoscope from around his neck and asked the man to open his pyjama top. He placed the stethoscope on his chest and asked him to cough. Then to cough again, and then to cough once more. The Doctor stood back; he looked very puzzled, and scratched his head. Everyone around seemed puzzled too, whatever was the matter, they thought. The Doctor placed the stethoscope on the man’s chest one last time and then had to sit down. By now the Master was bemused and spoke.‘Whatever is the problem Doctor, he’s well enough surely?’‘Yes, yes Sir, he is, that’s just it, he seemed perfectly well in every way, except…’‘What is it Doctor pray tell?’The Doctor paused; it was as if the next few words were the most difficult words that he would ever say.‘He has no heart !!!’ said the Doctor, in complete bewilderment.There was shock and amazement throughout the ward. The man lay there without a care and didn’t seem to worry one little bit. In fact he knew it himself, he’d always known it, he just never thought it was strange. He thought everyone was the same as him.The man was released and returned to work. For some days he was fussed and paid attention to but eventually everyone grew used to the fact that he was different. He looked the same as everyone else, apart from the fact that he never seemed to feel ‘love’ as everyone else did.The years passed, the Master died, and his son became the new Master of the house. The century turned and the man remained the same, he still looked only thirty years old.The man never married, he never had children and he still never had a day’s sickness in his life.He is still alive today, said John.He is 187 years old. The only thing noticeable about him was that he walked with a slight limp from the fateful day that he broke his leg all those years ago.He will never die, he will never love, he cannot feel love. For he is the Boy with No Heart. Henry and Jack had listened, riveted to the story, and once more John asked the old, old question.
‘Is it True or false?’Jack was the first to answer.
‘False,’ he said confidently.
'True,’ said Henry.
Jack remembers John pacing around, keeping them waiting longer than usual until he put them out of their misery.
‘False,’ said John.
And they all began to laugh.
It was Christmas and Henry and Jack wondered what special seasonal story John would have for them this year. Some years he would tell it on Christmas day, after the dinner, some years he left it as late as New Years Eve.They had decided to spend Christmas together so they drove down to London and planned to stay in a hotel on Park Lane. They heard an announcement on the car radio that tonight’s Christmas Eve Lottery draw would be a triple roll over worth 20 million pounds.‘We must get a ticket’ said Jack.“Yes, we can’t let it pass by, I mean for just a few quid we could end up multi-millionaires, all of us’ said Henry.They all agreed as soon as they had settled into the hotel room they would buy three tickets, one each.‘No, why don’t we buy just one ticket and take three lines, that way if one of us wins, we will share it, just like we have with everything together all these years’ said Jack.Once again they all agreed and they decided it should be John who buys the ticket. It was settled, they would meet in the bar later that evening to decide what they would all do when they were millionaires in the morning. They all laughed and joked and went to their rooms.A little later John left the hotel and bought the ticket with the numbers they had written down for him to buy, he picked up an Evening Standard and was interested in one particular article that caught his eye.John returned to the hotel bar just as the others were coming out of the lift. They drank and drank enjoying the Christmas atmosphere; they ate in the dining room and laughed all the way through the meal. Jack and Henry were sat side by side opposite John who could just see the TV monitor across at the bar. He couldn’t hear the sound but saw the news highlights and noted the winning numbers in the special Christmas Eve Lottery Draw.John surprised Jack and Henry and told them he had a story to ‘end all stories’ for them. They sat open mouthed; they weren’t expecting it till later, John always kept them waiting.They had just finished the meal and they were having a brandy and John began the story. The laughter subsided; Jack and Henry sat in anticipation, wondering what could possibly be the story to end all stories.The story is about three friends. Three life long friends, he began. Just like us, said Jack. Yes, said John.These friends had trusted each other, looked out for each other and shared just about everything with one another. Until, John said, one day something happened to change everything. Henry and Jack sat mesmerised as usual.The older and wiser of the friends had suddenly become ambitious, so greedy and a set of circumstances presented itself and the man could not resist the temptation to take advantage. Although he gave it great thought, he put his evil plan into effect. Two things happened to him, said John; he learnt something interesting, something he thought he would never contemplate, not before that day.Henry and Jack looked at each other and thought the similarity between them and the friends in the story had just ended. That doesn’t sound like us anymore, said Jack. John continued with the story.The older man had read an article about a natural poison; a mixture of herbs and common substances that, when ground together, and mixed into a drink or a meal, would render death within five minutes and the poison would be totally untraceable afterwards. Death would be almost instantaneous. He had no idea that such a thing existed and wondered why it had been published for all to see.The second amazing thing was that the friends, through great luck and fortune, became wealthy, wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. The man began to have evil thoughts, John said, they were the best of friends, they had shared whatever good fortune had come their way until this time, but now he wanted it all, he saw a way to be rich, richer than he could ever have imagined. He plotted to kill his friends, greed and malevolence took over every fibre of his being. He collected the herbs and ingredients and prepared the secret poison and waited until the time was right, he then slipped the potion into their drink in the knowledge that they would soon be dead and he would have their riches and wealth all to himself. It seemed that Satan himself had possessed him.The restaurant and bar was about to close for the evening, it was midnight and John said that they should go up to his room to have a last drink before going to bed. They complained that they wanted to hear the rest of the story; surely it wouldn’t take long, said Henry. No, said John, but we can finish it upstairs over a drink. They all agreed and took the lift up to John’s room.Once they were settled, John looked in the mini bar and fixed them some drinks. Jack wanted beer and Henry wanted whisky.‘Come on John finish the story’ said Jack.‘Yes, finish it John’ said Henry.John said okay and handed them their drinks. They sat back eagerly waiting and sipped at their drinks. John continued.Well the greedy man got his wish, the plan worked and the terrible, demonic man sat there as his friends drank the potion. He waited callously for the fatal moment.‘By the way boys, I didn’t tell you did I’‘What?’ said Jack. ‘We won the lottery tonight, twenty million pounds, lets drink to celebrate, come on bottoms up, I’ll fix us another.Jack and Henry couldn’t believe their ears, they jumped up laughing and cheering, we’re rich, we’re rich, they shouted, hugging each other and dancing around the room. John was shouting and cheering even more than them and sat back down just dreaming what he would do with all the money.After three or four minutes they sat down, exhausted from all the celebrations, feeling the effects of the drinking that evening. Then they remembered about the story.‘What, what happened John’ they said almost together.They were so impatient they asked John for the first time ever, breaking the old habit where John would ask them if the story was True or False.
'Is it ‘True or False,’ John asked Jack, Henry chipped in also. At that very moment, Jack dropped his glass, his hands flew to his throat, it felt like it was on fire. The fire spread to his chest and stomach. He couldn’t breathe, the pain was debilitating, he fell to the floor in agony. Henry watched in horror but then he too dropped his drink, his mouth open, he couldn’t speak, he too couldn’t breathe, he fell down next to Jack, writhing around on the floor.John watched them both, dying a painful death on the floor, without expression or concern, he sat there motionless, and never moved a muscle to help them. Then he told them before it was too late…
‘True boys…it was True.’
copyright © gregstensonstories 2011
Every month, and ever since either of them could remember, John would tell a long rambling story to his two best friends, Henry and Jack. He would hold them enthralled and there was always a question at the end of the story. After John had finished they would have to guess whether the story was ‘True or False’.Usually the stories would be told whilst they were on a Sunday walk or on the way home after the gym or late at night after returning from the pub. At Christmas or birthdays there’d be a special story, a seasonal story, it would have an extra twist.They were all life long friends since primary school and were never far apart from each other. They were born in the same street, went to the same schools, played in the same football teams and shared the same apartment at University.
Henry’s favourite story was the chilling tale of ‘The Twin Sisters’ who were orphaned at birth.
Their mother had never known who the father was and the labour had been very difficult, and unfortunately she died shortly afterwards. The twins were taken in and raised by a wicked Aunt. They were kept in the house from the moment they were brought home. They never attended any school or nursery. The Aunt was so strict they were never allowed out to play. They had no friends, and there was no record of them at all, not even a birth certificate. They had never been seen by a Doctor - technically they didn’t exist.As the twins got older, and the Aunt more demanding, they were required to do all the cooking, all the cleaning and to attend to their Aunt’s every need and whim. If they didn’t please her, they would be beaten and locked in their rooms without food, sometimes for days on end. They could never escape as the windows and doors were locked and bolted.One of the twins was slightly taller, a little stronger and she became the dominant one, the one with all of the ideas. Now teenagers, she would lead the other in their spiteful pranks that they played on their Aunt from time to time. They would run away laughing and mocking when they were found out. The Aunt’s health was faltering, she needed a walking stick to get around and the days were gone when she could chase them and spank them. The dominant twin would always manage to get her sister to take the blame, the ‘guilty’ one would then be locked up and extra helpings of ice cream and biscuits would go the dominant one.“I wish she was dead,” said the shorter.“I’ll tell,” said the taller.Birthdays were special days for the twins. The Aunt would allow them to dress up, and to eat whatever they liked for that one day of the year. As they grew older they were allowed to cook and bake whatever they wished, they would take it in turns each birthday.On their eighteenth birthday it was the shorter twin who had the honour of choosing their birthday meal, she could choose whatever she wanted, whichever desert she fancied. The taller had to prepare and do all the cooking.The night before the big day they lay awake long into the night too excited to sleep. They would finally be reaching adulthood, the treats, the presents and the birthday meal that the taller one would have to cook. She asked her sister to choose whatever she wanted; whatever was her wildest dream, for it would never come again. This birthday marked the end of their childhood and they would start a new life. She thought long and hard as she watched the stars in the sky through the skylight window above her bed. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands together praying that her wish would come true.“What is it, what is it” asked the taller.“You know exactly what I wish for my sister…exactly”She did know and they blew goodnight kisses to one another before they settled down to sleep.Their birthday arrived and they enjoyed their first day as adults and wondered just what it would be like to be free, to meet other people and to perhaps one day marry. The taller began to prepare her sister’s special birthday meal, she spent hours in the kitchen and worked hard to make sure it was exactly to her sister’s satisfaction. Throughout the afternoon, every hour or so the shorter would knock on the kitchen door, curious what the taller was cooking, she couldn’t wait but she was sure her sister would surprise her and delight her. The shorter thought the house was quieter than normal, she hadn’t seen the Aunt all morning, her bedroom door was closed so she thought she too would surprise her later, she knew she would be at the party, she’d never missed a single one in all the eighteen years.The grandfather clock in the hall chimed five o’clock, the smells emanating from the kitchen had been driving the shorter crazy so when the taller shouted ‘Dinner is ready!’ she was excited beyond belief. The dining room doors sprung open. The dining table was set so elegantly, she had lit candles and poured wine, it was fit for a Queen, the shorter thought.The taller welcomed her to the table and they both sat down across from one another as usual. They said grace and wished each other a happy birthday and they began to eat.First they had soup, a delicious cream of celery broth. They drank some wine, a red wine that told the shorter they would be having meat. And then to the main course. The taller lifted the gleaming chrome covers from the serving platters and told the shorter to ‘tuck in.’ ‘It’s what you’ve always wanted’, she said. The shorter wasted no time at all and filled her plate with potatoes, vegetables and of course the meat. They both began to eat heartily and drank more wine. It was the best birthday meal they could ever remember. The shorter realised someone was missing. It had been quiet all day and again now, the high-backed carver chair at the end of the table was empty.‘Where is Aunty?’ asked the shorter.‘She’s here’ said the taller.‘But I haven’t seen her all day, she has never missed our birthday, not once’ said the shorter.‘And she hasn’t missed this one either’ said the taller.‘But she isn’t here’‘Oh yes she is…you’re eating her’ said the taller.Whilst listening to the story Henry and Jack hadn’t asked a question, on hearing the end they had made retching noises thinking about how the Aunt had ended up on the dinner table.
‘So?’ asked John, ‘Is it True or false?’
They talked between them, still thinking how disgusting the story was but they both came to the same answer.
‘True’ they said in unison, and as usual John would always make them wait for the answer.
‘Yes, it’s True, they ate their Aunt and the next day escaped from the house and lived a long and happy life together.'
Jack’s favourite story was ‘The Boy with No Heart’.Long ago, in fact right back in the time of Dickens, John began. There was an orphan boy who was different from all the other boys and girls. In fact there was no other child like him in the whole world. His life started the same as the other children, he grew up and went to school and played games and did everything normally. No one ever suspected that he was different in any way.He grew older and was made to work just as the other orphans were. One day he would be sweeping chimneys, the next he’d be fetching and cleaning and he grew to be a strong, healthy young man. His life was unremarkable and eventually the time came for him to be put into ‘service’ with a family in the country.The years passed and he did his duty, he was considered to be the hardest working, the most loyal out of all the household’s servants. By the age of thirty the Master of the house became a little curious as to why the young man, who had worked with them for twelve years now, had never been ill, and had never missed a day’s work in his life.Twenty more long years went by and the Master’s curiosity grew more and more for the servant was now fifty and had not changed since the day he was thirty. He worked as hard if not harder then ever, he still had never been ill, not for even a day and he seemed happy in his work and sought no comforts or relationships. It was the fact that he had remained single and despite several of the younger women in the house falling for his good looks and charms, he had shunned them, seemingly oblivious to their advances.One day the mystery started to unravel. He fell down the long flight of stairs from the first floor to the ground and it appeared that he had broken his leg. The Doctor was called and said that he should go to the local hospital to be x-rayed and for the leg to be put in plaster.This was highly unusual for the man, who had never even so much as been inside a Doctor’s surgery. He was kept in for observations ‘as a precaution’ they said, just until the evening when he would be allowed home. Later that day he was sat up, as cheerful as ever waiting for the Doctor to send him home. The Doctor arrived and purely as a matter of routine checked him over. The ward was full of nurses and the Master and Mistress, who had both grown very fond of him, were there to collect him.The Doctor examined his leg; he checked the plaster cast and then took his stethoscope from around his neck and asked the man to open his pyjama top. He placed the stethoscope on his chest and asked him to cough. Then to cough again, and then to cough once more. The Doctor stood back; he looked very puzzled, and scratched his head. Everyone around seemed puzzled too, whatever was the matter, they thought. The Doctor placed the stethoscope on the man’s chest one last time and then had to sit down. By now the Master was bemused and spoke.‘Whatever is the problem Doctor, he’s well enough surely?’‘Yes, yes Sir, he is, that’s just it, he seemed perfectly well in every way, except…’‘What is it Doctor pray tell?’The Doctor paused; it was as if the next few words were the most difficult words that he would ever say.‘He has no heart !!!’ said the Doctor, in complete bewilderment.There was shock and amazement throughout the ward. The man lay there without a care and didn’t seem to worry one little bit. In fact he knew it himself, he’d always known it, he just never thought it was strange. He thought everyone was the same as him.The man was released and returned to work. For some days he was fussed and paid attention to but eventually everyone grew used to the fact that he was different. He looked the same as everyone else, apart from the fact that he never seemed to feel ‘love’ as everyone else did.The years passed, the Master died, and his son became the new Master of the house. The century turned and the man remained the same, he still looked only thirty years old.The man never married, he never had children and he still never had a day’s sickness in his life.He is still alive today, said John.He is 187 years old. The only thing noticeable about him was that he walked with a slight limp from the fateful day that he broke his leg all those years ago.He will never die, he will never love, he cannot feel love. For he is the Boy with No Heart. Henry and Jack had listened, riveted to the story, and once more John asked the old, old question.
‘Is it True or false?’Jack was the first to answer.
‘False,’ he said confidently.
'True,’ said Henry.
Jack remembers John pacing around, keeping them waiting longer than usual until he put them out of their misery.
‘False,’ said John.
And they all began to laugh.
It was Christmas and Henry and Jack wondered what special seasonal story John would have for them this year. Some years he would tell it on Christmas day, after the dinner, some years he left it as late as New Years Eve.They had decided to spend Christmas together so they drove down to London and planned to stay in a hotel on Park Lane. They heard an announcement on the car radio that tonight’s Christmas Eve Lottery draw would be a triple roll over worth 20 million pounds.‘We must get a ticket’ said Jack.“Yes, we can’t let it pass by, I mean for just a few quid we could end up multi-millionaires, all of us’ said Henry.They all agreed as soon as they had settled into the hotel room they would buy three tickets, one each.‘No, why don’t we buy just one ticket and take three lines, that way if one of us wins, we will share it, just like we have with everything together all these years’ said Jack.Once again they all agreed and they decided it should be John who buys the ticket. It was settled, they would meet in the bar later that evening to decide what they would all do when they were millionaires in the morning. They all laughed and joked and went to their rooms.A little later John left the hotel and bought the ticket with the numbers they had written down for him to buy, he picked up an Evening Standard and was interested in one particular article that caught his eye.John returned to the hotel bar just as the others were coming out of the lift. They drank and drank enjoying the Christmas atmosphere; they ate in the dining room and laughed all the way through the meal. Jack and Henry were sat side by side opposite John who could just see the TV monitor across at the bar. He couldn’t hear the sound but saw the news highlights and noted the winning numbers in the special Christmas Eve Lottery Draw.John surprised Jack and Henry and told them he had a story to ‘end all stories’ for them. They sat open mouthed; they weren’t expecting it till later, John always kept them waiting.They had just finished the meal and they were having a brandy and John began the story. The laughter subsided; Jack and Henry sat in anticipation, wondering what could possibly be the story to end all stories.The story is about three friends. Three life long friends, he began. Just like us, said Jack. Yes, said John.These friends had trusted each other, looked out for each other and shared just about everything with one another. Until, John said, one day something happened to change everything. Henry and Jack sat mesmerised as usual.The older and wiser of the friends had suddenly become ambitious, so greedy and a set of circumstances presented itself and the man could not resist the temptation to take advantage. Although he gave it great thought, he put his evil plan into effect. Two things happened to him, said John; he learnt something interesting, something he thought he would never contemplate, not before that day.Henry and Jack looked at each other and thought the similarity between them and the friends in the story had just ended. That doesn’t sound like us anymore, said Jack. John continued with the story.The older man had read an article about a natural poison; a mixture of herbs and common substances that, when ground together, and mixed into a drink or a meal, would render death within five minutes and the poison would be totally untraceable afterwards. Death would be almost instantaneous. He had no idea that such a thing existed and wondered why it had been published for all to see.The second amazing thing was that the friends, through great luck and fortune, became wealthy, wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. The man began to have evil thoughts, John said, they were the best of friends, they had shared whatever good fortune had come their way until this time, but now he wanted it all, he saw a way to be rich, richer than he could ever have imagined. He plotted to kill his friends, greed and malevolence took over every fibre of his being. He collected the herbs and ingredients and prepared the secret poison and waited until the time was right, he then slipped the potion into their drink in the knowledge that they would soon be dead and he would have their riches and wealth all to himself. It seemed that Satan himself had possessed him.The restaurant and bar was about to close for the evening, it was midnight and John said that they should go up to his room to have a last drink before going to bed. They complained that they wanted to hear the rest of the story; surely it wouldn’t take long, said Henry. No, said John, but we can finish it upstairs over a drink. They all agreed and took the lift up to John’s room.Once they were settled, John looked in the mini bar and fixed them some drinks. Jack wanted beer and Henry wanted whisky.‘Come on John finish the story’ said Jack.‘Yes, finish it John’ said Henry.John said okay and handed them their drinks. They sat back eagerly waiting and sipped at their drinks. John continued.Well the greedy man got his wish, the plan worked and the terrible, demonic man sat there as his friends drank the potion. He waited callously for the fatal moment.‘By the way boys, I didn’t tell you did I’‘What?’ said Jack. ‘We won the lottery tonight, twenty million pounds, lets drink to celebrate, come on bottoms up, I’ll fix us another.Jack and Henry couldn’t believe their ears, they jumped up laughing and cheering, we’re rich, we’re rich, they shouted, hugging each other and dancing around the room. John was shouting and cheering even more than them and sat back down just dreaming what he would do with all the money.After three or four minutes they sat down, exhausted from all the celebrations, feeling the effects of the drinking that evening. Then they remembered about the story.‘What, what happened John’ they said almost together.They were so impatient they asked John for the first time ever, breaking the old habit where John would ask them if the story was True or False.
'Is it ‘True or False,’ John asked Jack, Henry chipped in also. At that very moment, Jack dropped his glass, his hands flew to his throat, it felt like it was on fire. The fire spread to his chest and stomach. He couldn’t breathe, the pain was debilitating, he fell to the floor in agony. Henry watched in horror but then he too dropped his drink, his mouth open, he couldn’t speak, he too couldn’t breathe, he fell down next to Jack, writhing around on the floor.John watched them both, dying a painful death on the floor, without expression or concern, he sat there motionless, and never moved a muscle to help them. Then he told them before it was too late…
‘True boys…it was True.’
