I work for the FBI, I grew up in an Indiana town with my uncle Ted. He was a man who believed that there was a natural cure for everything. He was right, I had never seen my uncle sick a day in his life until the end. When he came up with a bad case of influenza and passed quickly.
I was hot on a case six months before my uncle died, really hot. The case hit close to home. My small Indiana town had thirteen children missing over the years and now one of them was my own.
The case went cold, my supervisor said I was getting too caught up in the case. I kept diving in the deep end looking for something at the bottom that would lead me to the top but the trail was frozen. Not a single child had gone missing for four months. My life was a wreck and my uncle couldn’t look away maybe the stress of this hurt him.
When Ted passed I was hysterical. It was so quick and so sudden over a month he went to hell. I had never seen such a change in health. When he died he left me his house. I examined his book natural cures and wondered if there was one for depression. I looked in his books and through the almost alchemist like potions. Each box said its disease or cure in a foot note. Sore throat, a jar of mint leaves and honey. In a jar labeled general health a stale off white dust that he compressed into his daily pills. I looked in his books for the ingredients it said nothing it just kept referring to them. Everybody in the town loved his remedies. People would come over with their sick kids to pick up their cures. He always said the kids themselves were the real cures.
Credit To: Bacon