The Plague of Immortality

A girl lost in a sea of uncountable and painful years.

The sun hung like a limp, smoldering ember in the sky, its weak rays barely even breaking the clouds that covered it. Like smoke they drifted by, cutting the god-given light and then letting it breath again with each pass by the sun's light. Frost covered the ground in the graveyard with an icy blanket, leaving nothing untouched. Each tombstone turned ivory, each blade of grass frosted in white. Mallory stood as still as if she too were covered in the coming winter's sleep, but unlike the scenery which was frozen by the cold, she was frozen by memories. The tombstone at which she stood was a simple unmarked cross crooked in the ground, nothing to identify it by, no name, no date, nothing. Mallory wanted it this way, for certain reasons, ones she was not willing to share. But I will tell you anyways.

 

Mallory was perfect. Her beauty too much to describe, words could not harness what made her so astonishing. Maybe it was the way her perfect blonde locks tumbled down her back like a cascade of sunlight. It could also be the way her large, round green eyes sparkled like precious gems. The grace in which she moved, and the soft whisper in her voice seemed enough to entrance. But Mallory did not care for all of this, how could she when she was a dead person trapped inside one of the living? This was not the first husband she has buried, nor would it be her last.

 

The woman took her eyes from the most recent marker and allowed them to wonder around the others. Twelve she counted, though she already knew the number, she always wished she had counted too high. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks, striking the frosted ground with her sorrow. She's been alive for 1453 years and for 1453 years she's been alone. Each husband she had taken was just another weak bud of hope that she would grow old with him and die with him, but each time he had grown old and she had not aged a second. She had been cursed with immortality.

 

From inside her jacket she pulled one long black rose and dropped it on the newest grave.

 

“Father,” she prayed, “Please, let me know comfort, please, let me be free. I want to die, I want to know what it's like to feel something other than the empty cold I have felt my whole...” she could not bring herself to say life, “...existence.”

 

Mallory walked over to the noose hanging on the tree branch. She knew it was unlikely there was a god. She used to believe in him, until she kept praying and praying for the comfort she needed and he never gave it to her. But she still had to try, there had to be some way. She stepped up the rotten wooden step ladder and put the rope around her neck.

 

“Please God,” she whispered and stepped off. 

Author's Note

Again, as in all my writing, do ignore any grammatical and spelling errors. x)
This story really has no purpose I guess. It was just random. Feel free to critique as always.