It all started in 1786. I was 27 years old, and left the British Army a couple of months ago. I fought against the Continental Army during the American Revolution, and took part in some well-known battles. I returned home to London after the war ended in 1783, and stayed in the Army for another 3 years until I was discharged in 1786.
I wanted to attend higher education and study history, but I was unfortunately diagnosed with tuberculosis and my strength began to leave me. No doctor could treat me, and I was left worried that death was on my doorstep.
I had no-one to comfort me, as my grandparents died before I was born and my parents died while I was at war and both of them had no siblings. I was left feeling deeply depressed and lonely. I started to consider other types of treatment as the days went on, and asked around for addresses and names.
Eventually, I was given the address of a discreet man who offered treatment for a wide range of diseases. Luckily, he lived at a walking distance from me, and it didn’t take long to reach his residence. I knocked on his door, and he awnsered almost immediately, almost like he was expecting me. I was met with an old and withered face. His eyes were sunken, and he had a long and scruffy grey beard. He had messy hair which looked as if it hadn’t been washed in years. If there was a physical embodiment of death, it would be this man.
He looked to see if anyone was behind me, and then ushered me in. I followed him into his house, and a putrid odor hit my nose. I immediately turned away and gagged, but the man seemed unphased. He continued on, and began to follow him again. His house was in disrepair, and the carpet was covered with stains. The longer it was that I had spent in that house, the more I felt like someone - or something - was watching me.
The man entered into what seemed to be his living room, and I followed closely behind him. In the living room, there was a single worn-down armchair, a bookcase stocked with bottled liquids, and a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. The man sat down on the armchair, and grunted. He looked at me, and began to speak.
“So, what is your illness ?” I was taken aback by his voice. It was a deep, raspy voice that definitely fit his appearance. “Tuberculosis.” I replied. “I was diagnosed 3 weeks ago. No doctor has been able to treat me, so here I am.” “You’re in luck. I have a treatment for tuberculosis. Excuse me while I get it for you.” He said. The man got up, and made his way to the bookcase. I sat down on his armchair. He scanned the bottled liquids, and then said “Ah, there it is !” And took one of the bottled liquids.
He turned to me, holding the bottled liquid, and said “This will treat, no, outright cure your tuberculous.” “What is the cost ?” I replied. “£4. Unless you are willing to test out one of my experimental potions. Then I will give it to you for free.” He said. “What is the experimental potion meant to do ?” I asked, curiously. The man paused, then continued. “It is meant to give you immortality.” I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe him. I had never heard such an outrageous claim in my life !
“Excuse me ?” I said, gobstruck. “You heard me. Immortality. If you drink the experimental potion, then you will be immune to every disease, every ailment, every infection known to man. Your ageing will be eternally paused.” “That simply isn’t possible !” I responded, still in disbelief. “That’s what you think. I have been trying to brew an immortality potion for decades. I believe I have finally succeeded. But, I need someone to test it for me.” “Why don’t you just try it yourself ?” I replied. The man said “Well, theres a high risk that you will die when you drink the potion. Because of my age, the probability that I will die upon drinking it is almost certain. You are young, although the risk is still high, it is not as high. Think about it. A chance at eternal life.”
“Coward.” I said, the bitterness audible in my voice. The man paused. He had a look of impending doom on his face, and tried to speak, but he only stammered. I was then overcome with sympathy for this man. I felt like I had to drink it, or else something terrible will happen to him. “Ok, fine.” I said. The man looked relieved, like he had just successfully escaped the death sentence. “Thank you so much !” He said, overcome with emotion. I then felt a shift in the atmosphere. Like someone had just left the room. Before I could say anything, the man handed me the tuberculosis treatment. “Drink this while I find the potion.” The man then began searching the bookcase. I downed all of it, and immediately felt better. Shortly afterwards, the man turned to me, the potion in hand. “Found it !” He said.
I handed him the empty glass bottle, and he handed me the potion. I drank it slowly and cautiously. After I finished drinking it, I felt like an immense weight had just been lifted off my shoulders. I felt more active, more healthy, more fresh. “Now we must wait and see. If the potion is fatal, then you will die within a couple of minutes. If you don’t, then congratulations, you are now immortal !”
After the most tense 2 minutes of my life, we were both certain that the potion had worked. I became immortal.
I left the house feeling a mixture of emotions. Confusion, curiosity, releif, and content. However, when I went to sleep that night, things took a turn for the worse. I had a dream where I was back in the house. I was sitting on the armchair, and the man was standing by the bookcase, staring at me, with the look of impending doom. Behind him, stood a tall shadowy figure. It had no facial features, but I could sense it was looking right at me. It’s left hand was on the man’s shoulder, and the man continued to stare at me, now with a desperate expression on his face.
I suddenly jolted awake in a cold sweat. I sat upright, and tried to collect my thoughts. I felt a precense in the room leave, the feeling was the exact same as the feeling I had back at the house. I struggled to fall back asleep that night.
Ever since then, I have kept it to myself about my immortality. I have had to change identity a few times, faking my death to make sure that nobody catches on to my immortality. I have lived through the rise and fall of generations, the birth and death of rulers, the constant change in technology. My appearance has stayed the same, and my health has been pristine.
Every year since I gained my immortality, on the same date, I have had that dream. Each time, the precense has stayed even longer after I wake. I see that shadowy figure in my peripheral vision every now and then, and it seems to be getting closer and closer. Ever since my 250th birthday in 2009, I have had this feeling of impending doom, like something big is coming. It had affected my day-to-day life, and I have been acting paranoid in public. Today, this feeling is stronger than ever. This morning, while brushing my teeth, I saw the shadowy figure. This time it wasn’t in my peripheral, but it was in the mirror, standing behind me, with it’s left hand on my shoulder. It disappeared as soon as it appeared, and I locked myself in my room. I am writing this sitting on my bed. The feeling of impending doom is unbearable, and I’m unsure of what will happen to me.