People who die unexpectedly bring me a different pain than people who know it's the end for them. If I don't know they're about to die, I can't plan my last words, treasure their last touch on my skin or cherish their voice which I will never hear again, at least not in the same way.
People who know they're about to die bring me so much grief as I stare at their face, trying to memorise all the details while they're still here. I have to think about my last words, their last smile, feel their hand on mine pull away, wishing it could stay there forever.
"I don't want this to be the end," I say, my head down, trying to hide the tears running down my face.
"It's not the end for you," comes the reply, a ghost of a smile playing on their lips.
Then they're gone, and the scream emitting from my lips is only an echo of the deep painful ache I feel exploding inside my chest as my heart splinters out of my body. My head knows I couldn't have done anything to save them, but my heart is adamant that I should have done more. It wasn't my fault... was it?
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.
