The Ghostwriter's Words

Sara: Worst F-ing Birthday Ever

Sammy's 500th birthday should have been a momentous and joyous occasion and began that way, with everyone appearing to have a wonderful time. Everyone being: Sammy, the birthday boy; Sara and her friend Lady, who lived nearby and Sara had invited with the intent of introducing her to Sammy, to hopefully be a friend to keep him from being lonely when Sara was away; the Professor and his plus one and two, in this case, a pair of redheaded, green-eyed identical twins, who he'd brought more to observe Sara's reaction than he had for Sammy, who he'd come to accept was a lost cause. And there'd been a few dozen other guests, all unfamiliar to Sara, who had ascended from the caverns beneath the estate to join the party at Sammy's invitation. The Truth, most of whom had been hiding from the agents of The Faith for a century.

Sara had returned from her most recent adventures late the evening before to slip quietly into Sammy's bed at midnight, as had become her tradition on his birthdays. She'd encountered naked flesh, which she'd expected, except there were body parts she hadn't. She'd smiled, feeling nothing but happiness that Sammy hadn't been alone until the woman sat up and screamed, which woke Sammy, and the lights came on. Surprise!

The woman appeared to be fifty, or thereabout, no real surprise. That had been Eve's age, the day they became Immortal before their appearance gradually returned to that of their prime. Sammy chose not to dwell on those memories of Eve as she'd appeared those final few years, not even those beautiful days of naked-hide-and-seek.

The woman in Sammy's bed that early morning of his 500th birthday had been terrified and tried to pull the sheets around her body as she slid as far from Sara as she could. Sara had reached out, intending to take the woman's hand to comfort and reassure her, but she'd been having none of it. And Sara touched a part she hadn't intended.

"I'm sorry," Sara apologized, "And sorry I startled you," suddenly recognizing, despite appearances, that the poor woman was probably only a tenth her age, a child in comparison. She softened her voice and gently repeated her apology that everything was okay; there was no reason for her to be afraid. When her efforts to ease the woman's fear had no impact, Sara's patience eventually wore thin. She'd returned home to wish her husband a very intimate happy birthday. She'd asked the woman, "In or out?"

When Sammy introduced Sara as his wife, the woman jumped from the bed, attempting to take the sheets with her, but Sara instinctively held on to them firmly. The woman found herself standing naked in the middle of the room, totally exposed, frantically trying to cover herself with nothing but her hands and finally turning her back to them.

"Why would you want to be with me?" she'd cried to Sammy.

"Because you're a beautiful woman," Sammy insisted, adding, "But I explained, first thing, that I have a wife, who was off traveling, but I expected to return just as she did. With no warning, in the middle of the night. She likes to surprise me. Especially for my birthday."

"Yes, but you didn't tell me..."

"What?" Sammy and Sara chimed in unison.

"That she'd be so young and gorgeous," she'd said, glancing over her shoulder toward Sara, still trying to hide her nakedness from their eyes. "Look at me. I'm a wrinkled old woman with sagging tits, belly fat, and a flabby ass."

Sara thought the woman was stunning, just as Eve had once been, or Sara might have become if she'd aged another thirty years. She hadn't noticed any belly fat before the woman had turned away from them. Her tits looked great, what Sara had seen of them. And nothing appeared flabby or wrinkled from behind. She had a beautiful face. But Sara also recognized that it was impossible for her to fully empathize with the difference the woman perceived when she'd never experienced the trauma of watching herself grow older in the mirror and never would. So, she tried to be as kind as she could.