The scars on my face are from when I've fallen over. I fell over during a house fire when I failed to save a child; the concrete ground tore the skin of my entire right cheek and my lip was cut on a shard of sharp glass. I fell over on a walk to my friend's funeral, banging my forehead on the edge of a bench as I collapsed onto my side.
The scars on my left arm are from battles. I was pierced with a sword in the middle of a forest when I was looking at the blood on a bird instead of my opponent. I was scratched with someone's long, manicured nails when I was outrunning an enemy, an accident caused by panic, creating a gash deeper than expected.
The scars on my right arm are from burns. Burns from fire destroying lives. Burns from fire keeping places light. Burns from fire cooking food. Burns from a monster's torturous tools.
The scars on my mind are from memories. Memories of tripping, dropping, collapsing and slipping. Memories of knives, shields, screams and panic. Memories of yellow, orange, red and blue. Memories of pain, but peacefulness too.
YOU ARE READING
The Stories of an Immortal
AdventureRandom short stories about different adventures in a variety of places, times and situations, from the perspective of a time travelling immortal.
