Returning home is something most people do after being away for such a long time. Many people would return between 5-30 years, but what about 250? Yeah, I've been away for quite some time... but it's not like my family, my home, is going anywhere. It's been in the same spot, in the same woods for 500 years.
My parents and my brother have a hard time getting along with the people who come and go in our long... very long... lives, but I have been able to adapt to modern ways quickly. That's why I like traveling. With so much time, I was able to see how things changed, how the normal people... mortals... passed their limited time. It kind of makes me sad, but I'm not sad for them. They're the lucky ones.
When you're an immortal, life just goes on and on, continuing forever. It's good at first, but after a while you get tired. Your life just gets... plain. Uninteresting. Things become routine, and you live on a schedule, fall into a routine. Traveling and seeing the different parts of the world helped me escape this. But... Even seeing new things can get old. The thrill seems to fade after a bit.
That's why I decided to return home. Maybe it would renew the feelings of going someplace unique once I leave again. Plus, my brother has decided to come back as well. I can see him after so long... it brings a slight, almost unknown feeling of happiness... and I liked it...
My brother, being from our immortal family, went off to fight in the war. He figured why not, sine he couldn't die, right? After so many years, though, he had to fake his death at least twice... he told me the thrill of it keep some excitement in his life, but I can't feel as if it's kind of an excuse to kill. He kills them, but they don't have a chance at killing him. I think it might be his way of getting back at the world. Either way, he does well for the country. I'm glad he was able to return home with me, when I wanted him to.
So when I finally did get home, I was excited. And that was unusual. But then again, home was not as I expected it to be. My parents, they were... they were sad. Happy to see us, of course, but as all things go on forever for us, interest in life is not one of them. Life just becomes boring after a while, and no matter how many times I think that, you get tired of believing it's true. It's an endless cycle of hope and then having it fade away, to come back and have it fade away once more.
The day I returned home was good, a bit calming, but ever so stressful. That same night I ended up getting out of bed and walking, walking into the deep forest and not caring where I went. After a bit, it was as if I woke up out if a trance, and found myself in a blackened patch, in an area I wish didn't exist.
The clearing where it all started, but would never end.
I still remember that day, how it all happened. My family, my parents, brother and I, had been on a family trip. We were hiking, following a trail which has long since overgrown. My brother wandered off, and the rest of us had to look for him.
We found him in a small clearing, and by then the sun was setting. Sun light was flowing from the opening in tree's canopy, and it reflected off the silver water from a small creak that flowed nearby. The roots from a nearby tree, one that was in the center of the patch, grew out of the ground and into the creek. This tree didn't look normal, for it had bright shining leafs and bark that was such a light brown it looked tan. Either way, it was our parents' idea that it was a good spot for a picnic.
Back then people were a bit careless, so you see, when my mother saw that she had forgot to pack some of our food, we all didn't think too much before biting into the fruit of the tree. It was delicious, the best thing anyone could ever eat. Nothing happened to us, so we thought nothing had happened at all. How we were wrong.
That night when we returned home after a great day, things took a turn for the worst. A person who I did not know at the time came to our home and talked to my father. My older brother, over hearing what they said, came and told me that my parents owed money, but he wouldn't tell me what for. He left that night.
It was early in the morning when we woke up, gunshots being heard. We all gathered on the porch to see my brother running down the road, a cloth sack in his hand.
He had robbed the town bank.
Just before he reached us, he fell, a bullet digging into his shoulder. A police man had shot him, and my parents must have thought him dead, because I never thought they would do what they did next.
They pulled me inside the house, and both ran out, rifles in their hands. For the next hour all I heard was gunshots, but all I could do was cower in my room.
Later that day, when all the sounds had ceased, I crawled out from under my covers and exited the house. I found my brother, mother, and father sitting on the porch, completely fine and unharmed. I couldn't say the same about all the officers. I had never seen so much blood before, not did I expect to, to see the grass stained with crimson.
We sat there, quiet, until well around noon. My parents told me of how each of them had been shot many times, but never hurt. They said slight pain was present, but it was never unbearable.
My parents, being wise and more experienced than most, knew what this meant. We were immortal. And it wasn't long before we knew it was from the tree.
At first we liked the idea, and for the first couple of years it was ok with us... but when my dad's best friend and the people closest to him began to age and die away, he found it torture to watch. He didn't want people to suffer like us, and he found that death was better than eating the fruit. So he knew what he wanted.
Revenge on the tree, to protect others from a life like ours.
That night... The night my uncle died at age 86, while my dad was still 42... He decided enough was enough. He didn't want to suffer. He took us out into the woods, and we watched in horror yet fascination as he went on a rampage, and went on to destroy the beautifulness of that clearing...
... We watched as he burnt the tree to the ground, smothering himself in ashes.
As the fire spread from the trunk up to the branches, the tan wood tinted gray, like it was turning to stone before it caved into a hollow center. The fire created a vortex engulfing the now dull tree like a hurricane, and as each leaf touched the flame it glowed white before it faded to black ashes. We stood there for what seemed like hours before we were in a slightly bigger clearing, black all around us and moonlight shining down on a blackened stump. Ashes flowed through the air, being carried away by the wind, but leaving us behind. It was a clear night, but we saw that destroying the tree did nothing.
My father, now covered in black soot, cried.
The moonlight reflected off the small, clear stream that still flowed nearby, the blackened roots still sticking into it, and it was a clear but silvery color, rushing gently but steadily by. That little stream... The tears of the immortal family.
There wasn't much difference between the two, not one that I could see.
My family left, but I waited behind. As a teenager, I didn't at all hate the tree. I didn't really understand why father did what he did. I was stupid back then. I told them I would catch up, and I went to the stump alone. Inside it was a small, round, and glossy object. Picking it up, tingles spread through my arm and it glowed faintly. It was somewhat moist in my hand. It was a seed.
Being different and curious, I hid it and never told my father. He would have surely taken it. I put it in my pocket and ran away from the clearing, not looking back.
Standing here in the night, looking at this place and thinking if the past, somehow strangely calmed me. I think of the seed now, hidden in a glass bottle at the bottom of the lake near our house. It was safe. People were safe from immortality. What purpose did I have left? What was I so pose to do with my life?
I sighed and found myself very tired, and it was as if a wave had just crashed down on top of me. I turned around and began walking. I needed to go home, to be with my family, as it was all I have. Suddenly I heard a faint noise.
Startled, I looked up and around for the cause of the noise. I couldn't believe what I saw.
A young boy, looking to be at least seventeen, was leaning against a tree, sobbing loudly. I wondered what to do, so I found myself sneaking up to him. I hid behind a tree, yet I knew I should do more.
I stepped out of the shadows, and his head quickly snapped in my direction. And my heart stopped.
This boy was gorgeous, and I felt my heart tug in my chest. He had oak brown hair and his eyes were beautiful in the dim light of the night. The moonlight reflected off his pale face, and it made his tears glisten. I couldn't take my eyes away, I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything. It wasn't long before confusion entered his eyes, and he spoke to me, in a deep, worried, and somewhat frightened voice.
"...Who are you?" I felt myself slowly become able to move, and I blinked before I responded.
"It doesn't matter... I couldn't help but notice you over here..." My voice trailed off, and I waited. He soon seemed to understand.
"Ryan... My name is Ryan" I smiled. That was a rather handsome name.
"We'll nice to meet you, but..." I couldn't help the curious tone in my voice, and I really hoped I wasn't bothering him.
"... But what are you doing out here?"