Summary - He tells to nobody in particular as to why he is on Earth.
You know when Humans celebrate birthdays, they blow candles and cut cakes, receive gifts and blessings? Well, for one, that’s dumb. For two, how does one even fit three hundred and twenty five candles on a cake? Unless, of course, it’s made to fit such an obnoxious number.
Sorry, you probably are thinking I’m some old man, with a balding head and silver white hair hanging from my chin but, please let me correct that image of mine in your head.
I’m over three centuries old, yes. But I’m as old as I’d died when I was twenty five. I’m no one to brag but I must say - in order to correct you heavily - that I’m handsome, tall, and absolutely hot.
And totally on the run.
It’s funny really - spending my birthday running away and in hiding, coloring my hair whenever I think I’m being followed. Yes, I did bring this upon myself. In fact, I’m probably the only person from Kronell who’s brought such fate upon himself.
Three hundred years ago, I was a happily married man, living with a strong, smart and beautiful wife. She was everything to me, as much as I was to her, I’m sure. While we did have struggles in bearing children, we loved each other very much.
But that’s where everything changes, you see.
The Gods, Dignitaries, Heavens, whatever you wish to call those who control our fate that isn’t us, seemed to find my life a toy to be played and tampered with. To be spoiled. When they went too far, it took away my only reason to live away from me.
My wife died.
A tragic story began: I was the talk of the village, every man would keep their children and wives away from me. They’d point to me and say that I was a bad man for not taking care of my wife. While I ran around, trying to find ways to bring my wife back, everybody else watched, amused or horrified. Like it was some morbid scene to see a man want his wife back.
When I’d tried killing myself - since that seemed to be the only way to go to her - they didn’t let me. It was almost like I was immortal - not in the normal sense. They just…refused to take my soul.
I despised everything. Loathed them, rather. I could no nothing. I was as feckless as a puny human facing a grizzly bear.
Then, one day, an old lady offers to let me talk to the person I so wanted to contact. Apparently, she was one of those women who were considered crazy by the entire village. The one everybody made fun of for the claims she made of seeing and hearing dead people. In my defense, and as a testament, I can say that was very, very much true.
Do not hold my wantonness against me, but it was just that which made me too blind to heed to them when I was warned, time and again, not to attempt to contact the dead.
Once the dead, always the dead.
I was more desperate than I already was, causing me to be engulfed in flames. Yes, you can take that quite literally. I’d only seen the figure of my beloved deceased wife form, and then I died. Quite comical, really.
When I found myself staring at the King of the Underworld, I knew then, that I had undeniably, and very unabashedly, fucked up.
He let me know I had just signed my contract on serving a probable life sentence in Kronell, having to serve him until he was satisfied - which perhaps has never happened or will ever happen. Kimroe was ugly. Straight up, bare faced, chunky bodied ugly.
But we Sinners (those who were slaves) never really had the chance to exactly…voice our opinion. It would be a free world if we could.
Red Bloods (pure blooded evil people, mostly descendants of Kimroe) and us never got along well - we weren’t supposed to either Which is not a surprise, really. But still, if one spent three hundred cursed years in such a place, wouldn’t they want to leave?
I knew I wanted to. And I did. Which brings us to the current position I am in.
All I have to do is find my soul mate - of course, it is easier said than done - and get romantically involved with him or her. You see, when we Sinners find our soul mates, which are usually humans, we are halfway through being ridden off the sin we committed. But a Sinner cannot just force it out of their mates. They must, on their own accord, convey their romantic feelings - if they have any - to the Sinner. And only then shall the Sinner be redeemed.
I wanted to throw that person whoever made up these rules, into the Pit. But they’re probably dead, so there’s no point.
It’s isn’t just that rule which is crappy. What’s crappier about our existence is that we are absolutely allergic to metal. If we ever made the mistake to touch it, we were sure to suffer from second to third degree burns. I scoffed when I learned of it, but instantly regretted it when Kimroe used it on me.
As I feel my self esteem lower with every step I take towards the small cafe across the street, I begin to believe the fact that perhaps I won’t be finding any soul mate here. Perhaps, they’ve died, or are tied to someone else.
But I had to try. I couldn’t possibly survive another century there in Kronell.
I reached the cashier, the lady on the other side smiling brightly at me. It made me wonder if she could be my mate. So I reached for the napkin that lay close to her hand on the counter, and let mine subtly brush hers. When no reaction came from the mark - and encircled star - on the back of my neck, I sighed heavily and made my order.