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Immortalis
Letum
By
Sophie Davis
He screamed but it didn’t help.
He cried, but sobbing only made it
worse.
He tried everything. He ran. He
strived to find another way, but nothing worked.
Each time, “Immortalis letum” was the last thing it
whispered to him. He hadn’t known what it meant at first, but now he
did.
He never had a relationship
because he couldn’t keep one, and he never had friends or kept in
contact with family. He spent his days waiting. Waiting to die and
wondering, what did he do to deserve this?
Why?
He asked himself that single word
a lot, but no one ever had an answer. He played out his days as
differently as he could. At first he did the same thing everyday, but at
last he realized that each day started like he was never born. Nobody
remembered him dying.
So he started doing wicked things.
Immoral acts.
He stole. He hurt people. He
cheated and lied and it was driving him crazy. No matter how differently
he did his day—no matter where he was—he always died the same way,
at the same time.
He screamed every time because it
always hurt and he would never grow used to it. The searing pain as he
hit the ground. Sometimes he was cowering in the corner. It didn’t
matter where he was or what he was doing because it always happened.
It always hit in the same place.
The exact same place.
He felt betrayed, but by whom? It
wasn’t anybody’s fault but his own that he ended up this way. It was
his mistake. His problem. He said he was sorry every time he was about
to die, but he knew no one was listening. He knew he deserved it. He was
a depraved man. He was sinful.
He hurt someone.
His wife. He didn’t mean to…
or did he? He couldn’t remember anymore. He heard her scream; it still
rang in his ears after all these years. He saw her blood trickle down
the knife and onto his pale skin and felt nothing. But he couldn’t
help it. He had been in a bad mood all day, and he had been on edge most
of the evening. He just wanted to be alone. And then she pestered him…
while he was chopping vegetables.
So he stabbed her.
She died and he felt nothing. He
never made it to the funeral, but her brother came and hunted him down.
He hunted him down and shot him.
Straight through the heart. And
three years later, every day, at exactly midnight, he saw that face, the
last face he saw. He heard the sound of the gun firing and he didn’t
feel it right away, but then it was there: the unbearable pain.
He collapsed on the floor and
bled, and the man just laughed…
He screamed but it didn’t help.
He cried, but sobbing only made it
worse.
“Immortalis letum” was the
last thing it whispered to him. He hadn’t known what it meant at
first. But now he did.
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SOPHIE DAVIS is a sophomore in high school. Her main companion is her scratched up iBook that is filled to the brim with stories. And she has to agree, chocolate is better in color.
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