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The Immortal

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PROLOGUE




Death.
The end.
Over.



At a certain point of time, every organism seizes to survive, no matter how complex or simple, significant or not, big or small. It all end one day. The soul departs towards another universe, to begin a new journey, as a new being, a new life. When people die, they complete this journey, which is a few decades old. at the most. They peacefully drift into the serene parallel universe..., well, the lucky ones do.



And what about the unlucky ones, who fail to cross over, who are compelled to survive, even after giving in to death? Even after the sands of time run out? The soul refuses to leave the body. Why shouldn't it? Sixteen years isn't enough for the soul. But only the cursed souls refuse to depart. The ones that are chosen to do that one sinful act of sheer violence, the deed that sets apart HUMANS and DYBBUKS.



What's a Dybbuk, you may ask... A Dybbuk is a soul which has died, whose time is up, but still refuses to vacate the universe. Whose blood has long frozen. Whose heart has stopped beating. Pulses have stopped throbbing. Eyes have stopped shedding tears. But the body has survived, years of macabre pain.



I am a Dybbuk. But it's not that I have many choices, I must live, even against my wishes. Unfortunately, I haven't chosen this life. It chose me. And I gave in. I am dead, but still alive. I put on a facade, of a pretty normal teenage girl. Well, I was a pretty normal teenager. Before a died. I was murdered. My throat was slit. And I was pushed down a ravine. The pain was fathomless. But it seems minute now. I was chosen to survive and avenge my death. Hence i must do it. For now I begin a journey towards my end. I don't want to be immortal. I want to die.











CHANGING COLOR


Graveyards have always fascinated me, unlike most, i like graveyards. It holds so many secrets of the past, so my many unexplained lies, deceit. Emotions that overwhelm you. So many secrets, yet to be revealed... I envy that lies beneath the headstone. I wish to lie their, one day. I bend down and touch the inscriptions written on the headstone of a boy, who died when he was three...

"GOD TOOK YOU AWAY FROM US.......
BUT WE SHALL ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU MARTY"


I get up and strain to look at the graves on the other end. And then, i spot it. An average looking headstone. Covered with moss and lichens over seven years of enduring the elements of rains and sun. I walk towards it. Fists clenched. This grave has always been special to me. Unlike the rest, it lies empty. And it's mine.



I am not ghost. I'm... well... alive. The gravestone doesn't lie either. I was supposed to be dead.



LORELEI JEFFERSON
12.11.1987 - 3.2.2003
May the heavenly angels take
care of our little princess.


You see, i died. But it's all weird now. No other way to describe it. I was killed. I felt the knife slit my slender throat. I felt my blood oozing out. I thought that was it. Just it. But it didn't end.



It's fall. I feel the maple leaves brush past me. The red, the orange the golden pages of time drift by me...I pull my coat closer. As i walk towards the grave for a better look, i have flashes. I see my self as three year old Lorelei Jefferson. Lorry Jefferson. I remember the blond, blue eyed girl. Full of life. I remember what it felt like when my brother tickled me, I used to laugh so hard, i could barely ask him to stop. I see my sister braiding my hair on my aunts wedding day. We were the flower girls. I remember when my dad gave me piggy backs, and almost dangling from his back because i would be going hysterics. And i still remember the smell of mom's freshly baked oatmeal cookies. My brother and me used to eat the dough right off the bowl and mom used to go senile.....




And i remember Leon. Leon......Leon was..... different.....special. In a......... unique way. Blame it on the vocabulary of a sixteen year old, that was the best i could come up with. I always told him, he made me feel 'alive'. How would i know, this word would mean an eternity to me?






"Riley, come here honey".
"Welcome to reality." i greet myself.
That was Karen. My mother. But i refer to her as Karen. I just can't bring myself to call a stranger mom. I give my grave a long glance and walk towards my family. Karen is okay. But a little too sweet. Like an overdoes of glucose in your soda. "Lets pray for grandma." she informs me.
Like i am supposed to know whom i am praying for. I never met this woman, Karen's mother-in-law. But what i put together from all the 'remember the time when stories'.... this woman didn't really like me. She had her favorites and that was, of course, Siobhan. Siobhan is my sister. A year elder to me, but an eternity dumber to me.



We pray.
"What took you so long?" she demands.
"Taking a look around..."
"At..........?"
"What do you find in graveyards? Of course, the graves."
"Whose grave?" she is still pressing.
"Just what the......". But i can't continue because dad butts in. "Now, stop it kids."
I call dad, dad because i don't know what his real name is. And never made an attempt to learn it. Karen calls him 'Sugar' 'Honey' ;Cupcake' and 'Candy'. Told you, she is always on a glucose overdrive. I never understood dad's scrawny signature. So. dad it is. He's cool. And the best part is, he doesn't hover.
"Whose grave?" Siobhan has the nerve to press on.
I give in. "Lorelei Jefferson."
"Who?" It's Karen this time.
"Lorelei Jefferson." i say, my decibel level rising.
"The freak killed on Tori's twentieth." Siobhan further adds.
"Oh." That's Karen's repertoire. Just a meaningless 'oh'.
I give them the death stare, so cold, I am sure in a hyperbole state they would have been frozen to death.
"What's with the look?" she does it again.
That is it.
It.
"Tell me Siobhan how would you like it, if you were raped, then murdered, on you cousins birthday, and have your body, dumped in the ravine.?" I ask her in an extra sweet voice i reserve for such situations.
"Just, whatever okay?" Siobhan replies, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation.



I get in to the Sedan, and slam the door, in protest to my amazingly insensitive family. It's a Sunday, and i have started hating Sundays because Karen calls it the family bonding time. Last month i put my foot down, and brought an end to these painful sessions.


As soon as we reach home, i rocket my way to my room. I can finally let my hair down. And be Lorry for a while. I look at the stranger in the full size mirror. I's me.
It's Riley Du Perez.
Not lorry.
I currently have the 'Rogue' look. The X-Man Rogue look. Black hair with blond and pink steaks.
I hate it.
But i thought, it might drive Karen up the wall, hence i embraced this avatar. It was a change any way, from my boring look. When i walked into the room with blond and pink locks, Karen didn't give me a second look. Some times i feel these people are more lifeless than me.
But i suddenly draw back, and trip over my dresser, a pang of fear engulfing me.
My green eyes.. are changing.
They are no longer green...
They are an eerie clear.
Crystal clear.
I can see my pulsating cornea.
"It's happening." i whisper.
The Dybbuk is taking over.



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This article has 4 comments. Post your own!

CallieShinezzzz said...
Sept. 17, 2010 at 9:40 am:
thanks rhea...............
 
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CallieShinezzzz said...
Sept. 11, 2010 at 3:34 am:
plz guys......... i need to know if it is good or not
 
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CallieShinezzzz said...
Sept. 11, 2010 at 3:06 am:
any one likes it????????
 
rhea5396 replied...
Sept. 11, 2010 at 5:54 am :
ooooh i loved it!! :)
 
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