The Cursed

This curse, this curse was the worst kind of curse you could bestow upon anyone’s soul, the curse of immortality. I had watched every last one of my family slowly die of old age, all of my friends run out of time on the ticking clock of youth, every last soul I held dear to me had been taken by death and there was nothing I could do about it. I could not even keep in touch with them, or tell them I was alive and well, I had to watch them mourn for me day after day, and they believed with all their might that I may one day return to them even though they ‘knew’ I was dead. That was the hardest part, watching my dear old Grandmother sit in her rocking chair on the front porch waiting for news; somehow I think she knew I was watching her and that I was alive.

I would sit with her for hours on end listening to her chatter away to herself, or to me, she was as blind as a bat so it was rather easy for me to sit with her. She would sit rocking gently and whispering to me:
“Hello love, are you well? Good, I am glad. Having grand adventures? Ah, sounds interesting save the stories for another time. Oh lass, go fetch yourself something to eat, you look half starved!”
Everyone else in the family thought she was mad, so did anyone walking by, friends of the family, but I knew they were wrong, she was talking to someone, she was talking to me, she was the only one who ever sensed my presence, she even sensed me as she lay dying. I watched her while she slept soundly, peacefully, I watched as a smile crawled onto her face and then I watched as the doctor came to pronounce her dead. That was when I stayed further from my family than usual. I had no need to be very close, just close enough to know what ever was going on. The day my brother passed away was the last of my family; he much like my Grandmother fell asleep and slipped away peacefully.
I felt a sense of selfishness wash over my body, my family and friends had all died out with no children after I had disappeared, they were all too distraught to bother about planning for the future, they just spent their time searching for me, or my decaying body. It was only after I had watched the village that I grew up in slowly rot away, that I started to rethink my actions, I knew I could never have returned to them, I knew I could never hope to make any sort of true contact with them but I could have done something, I could have written a letter telling them not to worry about me. It was only after I was completely alone in the ghost town of a village where I grew up, that I started to wish I hadn’t have wasted their time, they had spent the best part of 20 years looking for me. They didn’t care if they found me alive or dead, they just wanted to find me, and I had been so selfish I hadn’t even let them know I was okay. I guess I was scared?

I made a home in one of the sturdier of the desolate ruins; I decided I would stay there for eternity. And if anyone happened to find me…