Under the Lilac Tree

 In the quaint town of Provence, there lived a French man named Jacques who had a penchant for indulging in lilac wine. One fateful evening, as he sipped on his favorite vintage, he began to experience vivid hallucinations. 

In his intoxicated state, Jacques believed he was a secret agent on a mission to uncover a government conspiracy.

As the night wore on, Jacques' delusions grew more elaborate and fantastical. He was convinced that he was being pursued by enemy spies and that only he could save the world from impending doom. With a mix of courage and confusion, Jacques embarked on a wild adventure through the villages of Provence, all the while under the influence of the intoxicating lilac wine that fueled his hallucinations. In the end, Jacques woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a newfound appreciation for the power of imagination. So yes, lilac wine is real.

Lilacs are amazingly fragrant, but I couldn't drink myself into a stupor with it's nectar.

I'm going to give you some, to see what memories it evokes. Then you can puke it up. It won't kill you. But it might. Toss the coin.

The car. You are stood looking at it, what can you see? What color is it?

Black.

Any damge? smashed lights, broken or missing fenders?

No, it looks normal.

And yet it was in a head on collision?

Was it?

Yes, according to the driver.

Open the door and look inside. What can you see?

Nothing. I can't distinguish the colour of the interior at all. It could be a 

reddish brown.

Ok. Broken windshield?

No. Nothing. Oh here.. I see something. Inside.

What do you see?

Blood, I see blood.

D'accord.

I'm now standing behind some iron gates. The weather is damp and cloudy yet it's not raining. I look at the door of this huge building, it's a house, gothic,  the door is large and painted black. I'm waiting for someone to answer my knock but they don't come.  I look at my watch and it's three thirteen pm. It's cold but not freezing. I look in my bag for a cigarette, place it between my lips and light it, taking a long hit and exhaling slowly as I look around at my surroundings. The trees have lost their leaves, the concreted path is dark with this morning's rain. There is a tree behind me, I turn to look, still waiting for the door to open. Something catches my eye. Behind the tree there is something. Leaning against the brickwall behind the trunk of the tree.

What is behind the tree?

A white plastic carrier bag. It is stuffed with clothes. Like really stuffed, not with neatly folded clothes, like dirty laundry... It's unclear to me what the clothes are, I think a man's clothing, I see a white shirt on top, maybe some black trousers rolled up underneath, I think there's some shoes. But I instinctively don't want to touch the plastic bag. It feels strange and out of place. I try to think who may have put the bag there.

Go look in the bag. What do you see.

The white shirt is.. Oh.. the white shirt is stained with something dark.It is blood. It is definately blood. Oh my god.

Come, you are going to vomit.

Please stop taking me to these places.

Was there a weapon in the bag? 

Such as?

I dunno, a knife or a hammer, gun perhaps?

No I didn't see.

Did the door get opened?

No. But the man who lived there was living in fear, that's why I would visit him, not frequently, but whenever I would walk past.  He told me that strange things were happening to him. Once when I called to see him he told me a man had been in his garden that night, peering through his windows. He had been very afraid, but didn't call for help. Another time I remember he had black eyes after being attacked in his house, but he wouldn't open up about it. Oh jesus, I'm gonna throw up.. Did something happen to him?

Yeah, he was killed by his son for his inheritance.

Oh my god. How?

Suffocation. 

But the blood?

you heard the term serial killer?

Yes.

Did you know the son?

Not really, I was a little uncomfortable around him, he made me feel 

uneasy so I would usually avoidhim where possible. He's a serial killer?

We think so,  we are closing the net. You feeling better?

I'm feeling that I survived a murderer.  

Not quite.

He's in jail no?

No he isn't, he never got caught, and he's looking for you.