I never would have guessed at the horror that could result from such innocent inoculations.
Most people live their lives safely: without ever knowing the random terrors that can suddenly infect the unsuspecting. They go through their comfortable, daily drudge: eating, working, loving, hating, drinking beer…without an inkling.
But ill events have torn that blissful torpor from my eyes. I may have been a little careless, but I’m not wholly at fault. I took precautions and presumed the fungal adjunct safe and sanitary after a couple minutes boiling.
The water, splendid with aroma of pine mushroom, was quickly cooled in accordance with standard brewing rules and practice. Soon after, I added it to the remaining portion of nearly fermented wort.
Looking back…I don’t know where I brought this foul horror upon myself.
The container, though not completely sealed, left but a little space under one rim where a foreign organism might introduce itself.
The wort, really closer to beer, was not the sort of place an alien could survive and thrive. And it was still active so it should have quickly formed a safe blanket of gas keeping invasion at bay.
The aromas of peated porter and pine mushrooms mixed in some primal part of my brain awakening anticipation like some feral desire soon to be satiated. But my conscious mind blocked these thoughts lest thirst and anticipation lead me to arrest the transmutation too soon and ruin my great drink.
Days passed and I left my concoction to mix and settle. But trouble was brewing and I remained unaware. My experiment birthed a side-effect: life.
My hidden bastards grew and multiplied feeding on the sugars that remained. Perhaps spited by my lack of acknowledgement, they ran amok.
Weeks later, when my attention finally turned to my now spoilt aqua vitae, it was too late. Intoxicated by anticipation, my inattention resulted in the death of all that I ever loved. And I’m left questioning what went wrong, fearing to reach beyond for fear of fouling my noble spirit.