Trevor woke up once again and he wasn’t outdoors. In fact, he would be staring up at a ceiling, unsure if everything before this was a dream. But that thought shattered when he sat up and saw that he still wore the hospital gown—he was very well in the building he’d just exited earlier.
He checked his watch: half-past three. The sun outside still shone brightly overhead, but evening would soon come, casting darkness on his already foggy mind.
He didn’t even have a plan for what was to come. A tight pain gnawed at his stomach, and Trevor was beginning to realise just how thirsty he was. It didn’t help that the taste of vomit still lingered at the back of his throat.
Photo: Zulfa Nazer
What would you do if you became immortal? This story explores one of the possibilities.
Loosely based off the Reddit writing prompt: “In the year 1105 BC you helped a man escape imprisonment. Before you parted ways he says to make a blood oath. You didn’t think much of it but you also cut your hand and shake. He says that you’ll live as long as he does. Well, now it’s the year 2020 and you’ve been searching for this man.”
Throughout the thousands of years I’ve lived, it’s wars that seem to bind mankind through the ages. It’s where I’d first met Marcellus, after our army won the battle against Carthage. It’s how I’d fatefully meet him again 2,000 years into the future.
FOREWORD: I submitted this piece to a submission call, but it got rejected, so here it is. My blog needed updates anyway.
Sol was poring over the building plans when the front door flung open. He traced his fingers along floor 48.
“Babe, close the door,” Sol said. “The smog’s getting in.” When no reply came, he looked up to find a tear-stricken Jenn.
“They did it,” she said between sobs. “They s-stuck me like a pig.”