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 The Man Who Lived Forever (Super Short Story)

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Havoc
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PostSubject: The Man Who Lived Forever (Super Short Story)   Sat Feb 26, 2011 2:38 pm

A house, decrepit from the wear and tear of a months worth of bombing, stands alone as the only mark of civilization for many miles. A light, flickering from within one of the shattered windows, compels exploration of such an unusually intact landmark. Upon the door is scrawled: Vi veri veniversum vivus vici. It is impossible to surmise if anyone in this wastrel land could decrypt such a long lost language but if they were indeed able they would say it is a Latin phrase meaning: “By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.” Since the later if far more likely then the former, however, information shall not delve into such matters longer then need be. Instead the flickering light which drew to this forsaken household is recalled. The inside of the household appears as if it has seen more hell then that of its outside. Phrases, pictures, and names all scratched upon the wall rotting from a lack of a roof to protect it from rain. Further to the right a stairway no longer usable for the access it was built to provide, instead, holds atop it a rocking chair with a beheaded doll as its patron. Ignoring all these unnecessary details however there is but a man sitting in a chair near in the corner of the area once upon a time considered a living room. The man wears tattered robes and takes use of his left hand to stoke an inexistent fire while the opposite holds a glass of whiskey. He turns acknowledging the presents of something else.

“Well greetings!” he exclaims, staring at nothing yet everything at the same time, “I wasn’t expecting company else the fire would burn brighter.”

He reclines back and sips his glass, eyes closed to better enjoy the flavor.

“Ah, but where are my manners?” he progresses, “I have yet to introduce even myself. Ages ago some would call me by the name Clinton, however, ages being passed I now go by Saint.. The saint of eternity.. Hmm.. Better yet: Saint Eternity!”

A giggle fallowed by continuation.

“What you have stumbled upon is my humble abode,” he glances around, “Now I know it isn’t much but it IS and IS is a far better things than not; or so some have told me. As I’ve noticed no other monuments erected near mine I’ll assume you are but a traveler-

Having now finally turned to the spot he had been talking too, he realizes with harsh indignation that none were ever there. He then smiles at himself and continues to stoke the fire.

In the end, the fabric of life continues on; not a wind nor ripple to wane its purpose.

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Sleep the dreams away.
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