I don’t know why I am immortal. I just am. It has taken me many years to accept this fact and stop searching for an answer I thought was hidden in the darkest corner of the world. I even went public once, in the hopes of discovering what made me unique. But after being treated like a freak and being poked and prodded endlessly, the evils of humanity became all too clear. Thereafter, I kept my secret carefully hidden and avoided forming close connections to people. I couldn’t handle seeing more of my loved ones grow old and pass on, when I was frozen in time and never seemed to be able to catch up. I still miss my family and my closest friend from my youth, though hundreds of years have dulled the pain. I desperately cling to the memories of the few people I truly allowed myself to love. But I noticed that with time, even they started to fade. Faces in particular are difficult for me to recall. They all blur into the same after having seen millions.
That’s when I started to write. I wrote down everything I experienced, every single painful and delightful memory. Every past romance, war, accomplishment, and failure are formulated into words, for the public to enjoy. They think my books are fictional. How could they possibly know the truth? Over the years, I published thousands of books anonymously. Every couple of decades I changed my pen name and writing style slightly to avoid suspicion. If someone were to connect the dots, my worst nightmare would come true as I would be subjected to experimentation again, this time with more modern equipment. I took a dangerous gamble by publishing my books, but fate has been on my side so far. I made this decision in the hopes of helping people who felt lost or strayed from the right path. I myself have searched for death for many years, so if my experiences, carefully packaged to hide my secret, could save even one person, it would be worth it. Also, when one lives for thousands of years as I have, the sheer number of memories can become overwhelming. I found that writing them down helped clear my head and move on from the past.
One day, I was at another book signing. Seeing countless faces who I knew belonged to people who would only inhabit this world for a fleeting moment was fascinating and disheartening simultaneously. Everything was progressing as usual, with fans telling me how much they admired my creativity and wondering how I could make up all these fantastical stories. If only they knew.
Then, a fan who seemed vaguely familiar stepped up to me. He handed me one of my books, except it was one I wrote hundreds of years ago. My breath hitched in my throat. I could not believe my eyes when I realized that it was my very first work. I poured my heart and soul into that piece, writing down everything I remembered about my family and my best friend. I wrote this book under a completely different name, how could the person in front of me possibly know it was mine?
“I’m sorry, this is not mine” I said in a shaky voice. How was this possible? The last time I was this distraught was many, many years ago.
“I wish you still wrote like this” he said. I felt hot and cold simultaneously. This could not be happening. Had I been discovered?
I stared in disbelief as the recognition set in. Could it be? Impossible. But the way he was standing and smiling at me seemed so overwhelmingly familiar.
“I promised I’d find you Alia, and here I am”. My birth name. It feels like a distant memory, yet it fits me better than any pseudonym ever could. No one had called me that in centuries. The last people who knew me by my true name were my family and best friend. Just then, the last puzzle piece fell into place and I remembered.
We’re children, playing under the stars.
I ask him: “Will we be friends forever?”.
“Of course, nothing could keep us apart”, Ezra answers.
With tears in my eyes, I say: “I have to tell you something. We’re moving. My family can no longer afford to live here, we’re going away. I’ll never see you again!”
Ezra looks me in the eyes and says in a steady voice: “We’ll see each other again. I promise.”
“Ezra?”. My voice was barely a whisper.
“You did a hell of a job at staying undercover. I took me centuries to find you. I finally fulfilled my promise. I’ve missed you, Alia”.
I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. “Is it really you? I’m not the only one? How is this possible?”. So many questions.
“I searched the world for answers, to no avail. But does it really matter now? I found you. I finally found you”.
Realization finally hit and an indescribable feeling exploded in my chest. I was no longer the only one, I was no longer alone.
Article written by Milla Pollak, S7De