Eternity

I had forgotten how it happened. I mean, I knew how it happened, but I had forgotten how I got into this mess. I still didn’t know who had done it, but I was close to finding out. At least, I was.

Standing on the edge of the twelve-story building, the wind raged against the flags and trees of the small brick town. The leaves blew across the street far below, branches shaking, plastic and paper bags dancing through the street.

I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel a thing. Not once in eighty-nine years had I felt anything at all save for those rare nights.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, replaying the memories of how this all happened, hoping to remember something different this time.

I woke up strapped to a wooden table. The ropes dug into my skin as I pulled on them. What happened? The room was dark, smelling of dirt and some herbs I couldn’t place. A small sound had me jerking my head. There was someone else here, cloaked and far enough away that I couldn’t see them clearly.

“Please, let me go! What have I done to you?” How did I end up here? I was just at the stream washing my clothes. Was it already night? The room looked too bleak for it to still be day.

The figure said nothing as they strode to my supine and bound form, raising a wide bowl over me instead. It smelled of Valerian, rot, and rosemary. Prying my jaw open, the poured the contents in my mouth, forcing it down my throat.

I coughed, swallowing the mixture in an effort to breathe. The combination threatened to come back up almost immediately. Whatever it was, it was disgusting. “Who are you?” I watched them place the bowl on a matching wooden table. Looking around the room, there was nothing to help me figure out where I was. It was a small cottage, herbs, plants, and fur pelts everywhere. There were countless glasses of different sizes containing mysterious liquids. My heart stopped at the realization of who -what- this was.

As a young boy, Mother had always warned me of the cursed people. Told me to stay far away from their demon magic and wicked spells. Warned me of what they could do to people. What they had done already to countless. I had done a good job staying away and under the radar from these people. Until now, apparently. “No, no, no, no, no…” Tears burned my eyes. This can’t be happening.

They began chanting something, grabbing a dagger from their hip. The cloaked sorcerer moved closer, getting ready to finalize the ritual.

I pulled on my binds, desperate for them to come off. What had I done to this stranger? What had happened? How did I get mixed up in this? “Stop! I beg of you, don’t do this!” I cried, watching the knife high above their head. There was no escaping my fate. The same fate as my brother. Maybe I could see him in the afterlife.

With a final chant, they brought the blade down swiftly into my chest. I screamed, feeling the agonizing, blinding pain, and then it all went dark.

Reopening my eyes, I looked to the edge of the building. Jumping from here would only result in a temporarily broken leg. Never death. It never ended in death. That sorcerer made sure my suffering would be eternal.

I saw Mr. Peters exit the library, continuing with his normal routine. I slowly made my way to the street to follow him. He was one of my favorites I haunted. He was an older man with white, coily hair. He loved the library. He regularly went to the park to read to the birds he fed. I liked to listen, hearing all the stories of this age. I was never able to actually grasp the books myself. Eighty-nine years without reading was terminally boring. I was thankful the Living Ones had invented television and radio.

Every few years or so I moved on to a new person to stalk. Some of them could “sense” another presence, others were clueless. I loved people watching. I missed my human days more than anything. Since that horrid night, I hadn’t aged a day. My clothes had stayed the same, also. I could only sometimes touch objects, and it required a lot of concentration. I was never able to take anything with me into the half-realm.

It didn’t matter, really, that I was still in my loose white shirt and brown pants from the fashion of my time. At least the stab mark and blood from the ritual didn’t follow me into this hell of existence.

I trailed Mr. Peters all the way to the park. The sun was shining today, staving off the early morning fog. I watched him shiver, tightening his coat and fixing his glasses. I didn’t feel it. I didn’t feel the cold, the sun on my skin, or the dampness from the fog. Perhaps I was creating my own torture by watching them all. Perhaps I was just as much to blame for my own misery as the sorcerer.

After the initial shock and horror from my transformation, I traveled the world, going all over Europe before heading across the sea to the Americas. I was desperate to find that creature and make them turn me back. I would even accept death. Anything to interact with another human once again. Anything to end this existence. To see my family again.

I had listened to other villages near my own, telling stories of other cursed people and where they fled when persecuted. I had followed the stories all these years, hoping to find the one who created me. I had learned a lot listening to people in libraries and reading over their shoulders.

As the legend goes, the one who turned me into a ghost gained all the years I had left. I knew that sorcerer would still be doing this to others. I knew they would still be alive.

But, around year seventy, I had given up. I stopped searching, deciding to “plant roots”, as the media say. I had haunted the townspeople the last nineteen years, trying to get joy from their existence. Trying to enjoy the children running in the park, the lovers proposing to each other, the elderly couple going on walks.

Every once in a blue moon, only on actual blue moons or an eclipse, could the animals see me. A few times I think they could even hear me. And sometimes, if the gods had decided to bless me at that time, I would be able to touch them for half a second. I had discovered this ten years into my torment.

I still thought of that first wolf who had seen me that very first time. The first creature to acknowledge me in ten years of suffering. I knew it couldn’t kill me. Nothing could. I had tried everything I could think of to get myself fully to the other side. I remember how it growled and snapped at me, ignoring my awestricken face. It ran before I could do more than brush my fingers over its back.

Mr. Peters had finally chosen his bench, different from his usual one. He began reading Shakespeare to the squirrels and robins, tossing pieces of the bagel he bought specifically for them.

I listened and people watched, trying to imagine how life could’ve been. Though I would have long been dead, I thought about everything I could have had. I could have found love. I could have had a family. I didn’t want anything lush or extravagant. I would trade anything to be able to hug another soul. Just to see my family or another person acknowledge me again.

I watched a woman roam the park. She was new here, and didn't seem to have anyone with her. I had watched her a few times the last week. Maybe I would haunt her soon. I didn’t look away when her face turned in my direction. I knew she couldn’t see me. This hell would never end for me.

Her eyes widened, mouth gaping as she stared at me. Actually stared at me. Not Mr. Peters, not the squirrels and birds, me.

I stood up, taking a step towards her. She took a small one back. Letting out a shaky breath, I took slow steps towards her. She matched my pace, eyes raking over my body.

I took her in, realizing she was in the same blue jeans and gray shirt I always saw her in. She had short brown hair, her eyes frantic.

We stopped a meter from each other, not daring to tempt cruel fate. “Y-you can see me?” I asked quietly, voice hoarse from unuse.

She flinched back a step, eyes still wide, giving a small nod, “Can you see me?” She questioned back, just a quiet.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my face. My eyes burned at the weight of it all. “C-can, I touch you? Please, I-I haven’t felt anything in nearly a century.” I hoped she wouldn’t run from me. This was too good. Fate had never been this kind to me.

She slowly moved closer, sticking out her hand. Gently, hesitantly, we touched fingers.

I pulled back, going at it again to verify it actually happened. Our palms touched. I could feel her. I could feel the texture of her tan skin, the bumps on her palm, the warmth of her. I could feel her. In the same moment, we enveloped each other, squeezing tight.

“Oh God! Oh my God!” I cried, smelling her hair. I could smell her. I could touch her, feel her.

We cried in each other’s embrace for too long. Neither of us wanted to let go. “I’m Jacob, by the way.” I sniffled, moving to walk with her somewhere else. Somewhere we could sit and talk.

She smiled at me, wiping her tears, “Vanessa. I can’t believe you can see me.”

Over the next several hours, we sat under a tree at the park and talked. Nothing else had changed between us. Neither of us could feel the sun, smell the breeze, or pluck the grass we sat on. We could only feel each other. We tested it often, wanting to make sure the gods wouldn’t take this gift away from us.

She told me how she was changed. She was taken from her home in the middle of the night and sacrificed in a ritual nearly identical to mine. She had been alone as a ghost for the last fifteen years.

I began to tell her my story. I told her of the last day I was human, not sparing any details of how I was changed. I didn’t know if there was anything in there that could help us track down the creatures who did this to us.

I told her of my misery. How I had been alone for eighty-nine years. I told her of what I discovered on blue moons and eclipses. I told her of the wonderful things I had witnessed with the Living Ones. I even explained all the ways I knew we couldn’t die. “One hundred and sixty-four ways we cannot die. I gave up shortly after that.”

She had a few tears falling from her eyes. I felt bad at her sorrow, but I knew it well. I didn’t want her to try all of the things I had, knowing they won’t work. “I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. We can find the demons that did this to us. Together, we might be able to track them down and make them fix us. Maybe even make them finally kill us. Give us an act of mercy by ending it all.”

She looked down again. “I cannot find the one who did this to me. And even if I did, they could not fix me.”

My heart stuttered. Had she figured out more than I could’ve in her short amount of years? “What do you mean? What do you know?”

She gulped, lightly touching my knee. Another test to make sure we could still touch. “The ritual. It cannot be undone. Once we are changed, we are stuck like this until the gods deem us finally worthy of death.”

I tried to keep my newborn hope alive. “No, you’re wrong. You have to be. There has to be a way out of this.”

“There isn’t. I know.”

I shifted away from her touch, ignoring the burning desire to keep her within reach. “How could you possibly know?”

She looked at me now, those dark eyes full of such heartache. I knew that feeling well. It was that or boredom that chased me throughout this hellish existence. “Because I did this to you.”

I swear my phantom heart actually stopped. “You what?” My voice was barely audible, the color had leeched from my face.

“I’m sorry! I was selfish and didn’t care what I was doing to you. I wanted to live forever.” Her voice cracked, more tears leaking out.

I stood up, taking staggered steps back. “You’re lying.”

She swallowed thickly, letting out a shaky breath as she told me the name of the village I was taken from. The brother I had lost to a sorcerer a year prior. The brother she had taken from me.

Anger heated my blood. “Change me back. Kill me. Do something! Fix this!” I screamed at her, staying out of reach for her touch. Her touch was the last thing I felt before being shoved into this never ending torture. And now her touch was the only thing I could feel for the first time in eight-nine damn years. The gods were cruel.

She stood up now, moving closer to me. I retreated a step. “I can’t! Once I was changed, I could not undo what was done to you! And if I did, all those years I took from you would be taken from me! I’m sorry for what I have done to you.”

I didn’t care what she said. She had done this to me. She had turned me into this near-dead thing living in the half-realm for almost a century. I couldn’t eat because of her. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t feel the rain or the breeze, feel the sun or the heat of a fire. I could feel nothing but her. “Stay away from me.”

Her face looked so heartbroken, and I couldn’t care less. I was too angry. “Maybe, we can be together! We can stay together. Like this. We can search for others and we can make our own community.” Her eyes turned hopeful, taking a small step towards me with her hand out.

“No! I want nothing from you! You did this to me! You think your prison of fifteen years was bad? I’ve been alone for eighty-nine years! I have had no one and nothing all this time! You deserve to stay in this half-realm for all eternity!”

She was desperate, I could see it on her face. “But we can touch each other! Maybe it’s a sign!”

A thought entered my head. A dark, terrible thought that my anger fed like dry grass to a fire. I didn’t care. “Maybe it is a sign.” I moved to reach her, ignoring her smile.

Getting her to the floor, I wrapped my hands around her throat. I could feel it. I could feel the pressure as I strangled her. She trashed, gagging as she tried to breath. I had tried countless times to die by hanging or drowning. But she was right. This was a sign. Maybe this is how we finally die.

Soon enough, she stopped moving. I stared at her still form, breathing heavy. I counted the seconds, waiting for the reanimation to take place like it always did with me.

Ten seconds, nothing.

Thirty seconds, nothing.

Five minutes, nothing.

Her eyes started to go glassy, still having not shut once. A smile spread across my face. I would spend the rest of my existence like this. Stuck in this hell until I could find another and convince them to kill me. But I would be freer now. The one who did this, the creature, the woman, was gone and dead. My brother was avenged. I was avenged. Maybe eternity wouldn’t be so bad now.