Newton

Isaac Newton meets a succubus

Newton

Red cheeks burn as though aglow.

Hair is dark as raven's wing.

Blue eyes look upon my woe.

Lips they quiver with a sting.

Shakunta, Shakunta!

Come back, Shakunta, sing!

Those the taste of freedom know

long ever for the ring.

 
 

Winter had arrived. The sky was grey; the trees were bare and slight birdsong came from them. I strolled down the streets and green fields of Cambridge, my black coat blowing in the stiff wind and papers flying in the air. As I chased and retrieved them, my eyes caught a black dressed black haired girl with odd blue eyes across a field. Her cheeks burned like fire. She gazed at me nonchalantly, then turned around and began walking. I ran home to my cottage, eager to begin my work. 

 
 

As I entered the doorway I gazed at myself in the mirror. My unruly black hair had a few flecks of grey in it, matching the color of my eyes, and my complexion was as fair as ever for an eighteen year old. I slid open a revolving bookcase and opened the lock of my secret passage with a key in my pocket, then hurried inside to the labouratory, where, on tables, a number of phosphorescent green potions in flasks and a glass orb with an oculus cut into the top to give the grey goo inside it air greeted me. 

 
 

I set my papers on the nearest table and began to purouse the notes, carefully pouring out ingredients from the cabinets in my storage room and feeding it to the grey goo creation, who energetically absorbed it and grew slightly. I will not transcribe the methods here in case these documents should fall in the wrong hands, and I would advise other alchemists to take caution before embarking on a path such as mine. 

 
 

My efforts were interrupted by Abigail, a Nordic girl who had taken an interest in me in my classes. She was carrying a glass of milk. I saw a look of horror on her face. "This is the Devil's work!" she cried. "I intend to go to the Church with this information!" 

 
 

Suddenly, the grey goo shifted and the girl I had seen earlier entered through the door. Abigail turned around and fell to the floor unconscious, and the glass of milk suspended in the air, then floated to the nearest table. The girl smiled, revealing a left tooth broken diagonally down the center.  

 
 

"Did you do anything to her?" I asked. 

 
 

"I caused a brain spasm. Victims usually recover in an hour. In the meantime, I suggest you get some worms' root to erase her memory. My name is Isabel Black." 

 
 

"My name is Isaac Newton. Who are you? Why are you here? " I said. Isabel sat to the left of the glass of milk and hitched up her dress, playfully exposing her thigh. 

 
 

"I am a Succubus. I detected a Homunculi growing and was intrigued. The consequences of defying the Church are grave, so I expected a great genius must be behind it." 

 
 

"And did you find this great genius?" 

 
 

"In a way. I find you simultaneously a hard, impatient man and a soft, frivolous boy, which intrigues me the more." 

 
 

I was frequently described by my teachers as childish, obsessed with ungentlemanly things like mechanics and astronomy. I built a working engine and put it on display on the Royal College Fair, but the Church confiscated it and dismantled it, saying it was possessed by a Demon.  

 
 

"And I find you as cold and distant as the stars, which intrigues me. You say you are a Succubus, but you seem more like a Nephilim to me." 

 
 

"There is no difference." 

 
 

I fetched my supplies from the storage room and began boiling water in a kettle on the stove for the potion. Isabel followed me. 

 
 

"I want you to tell me about how you created this Homuculus." she said. 

 
 

"Two years ago, at Eastmount Academy, I was studying Paracelcus, and I naturally wanted to put his theories to the test. My friend Robert Wallace introduced me to a gypsy woman that inducted me into a ritual ceremony for extracting the foetus of a mutated horse. The beast was pacified with green fire; it smelt terrible, and I believe there were strange minerals in it. Meanwhile a group of hooded cultists masked in the shape of a bird prayed weirdly; my scientific mind refused to believe this was necessary for the procedure. The resulting creature looked more octopus like than equine, but it reneged to become the creature here. I recently acquired the documents of Justinian, who it is rumored to have had an army of Homunculi." 

 
 

"He did. They are as old as the Pharaohs." 

 
 

I inserted the worm's root into the kettle. Five minutes later, the potion was complete. I poured it gently into Abigail's mouth. 

 
 

"I need to go. Afternoon is setting in, and as a nocturnal creature, I cannot stand the effects sleep deprivation for long." Isabel said. 

 
 

"It was an honor to meet you Isabel. I hope we shall be together again." 

 
 

Isabel took an apple from the cupboard. It withered into a dry black orb. 

 
 

                                                                     "Be careful what you wish for."