The problem of being immortal is that when you strip down everything, I mean absolutely everything that matters in your long life.you're alone. You have nothing.and that's mainly how I feel right about now.alone, solitary, one single, most likely last immortal walking upon the earth.
Lately all I have been able to think about is death and how over the last 6,000 years, I have been trying to avoid it with all of my being.now, finally giving into the inevitable.I realise what's been haunting me for the last 4,000 years.we're all doomed to die, at least once in our mortal lives. Yet being immortal is having a lack of that final quality.and now I wish, oh how I wish I could die. Leave this barren earth forever.and break the curse poured onto me all those centuries ago.
=====================================================
How did it begin and why? You may ask yourself.well, I can tell you only parts of the event which cursed me to become what I am today, for if I do tell you.the task of doing so would bring back the memories I've fought hard to repress. Well, to begin with, I was born in what the historians have called the beginning of the Stone Age; the village I called home would now be called around Liberia, slightly nearer to the coastal mountains of North West Africa. Our village was small, around three kilometres to a main river and on a slightly raised plain, which gave us the advantage over both on-coming forces of other tribes and for hunting also. We were a content tribe, believing in the pagan gods to whom had brought the world and the humans into existence. By any 'civilized' standards we were a primitive people, but that didn't matter to us in the slightest. Even though, to the far east of Africa, the Egyptian Empire was growing, the tribes of West Africa remained untouched, the conflicts of the outside world did not affect us because our own conflicts were enough to keep us focussed. One such conflict within our tribe involved most of my family and that of Numbe, my soon-to-be fiancée.and I use soon-to-be because, due to his witch- doctor aunt's protective nature over the both of us.we were never to be wed, and I was never to be mortal after one fateful night when I crossed old Witena while returning from gathering our grazing cattle. I remember like it was just yesterday; Her old bent figure came out from the shadows to my right, I still held the crudely made staff in my left hand and the water gorge hung loosely under the thick coarse blanket I had draped across my lean frame before venturing out that night. The stars were beginning to show themselves, and the moon beat its fading rays onto the small water bowls placed throughout the tribal camp, one of the large bowls reflections had caught on old Witenas withering features, causing the breath in my throat to catch and pause. Never had I seen her in the dark, and to this day I see her face and cracking voice resound in my dreams. "Wise Witena, I did not see you there.your face struck fear into me." I gasped, the breath slowly returning to me. "Numbe is not ready for this bond, you must have felt that young Aiena." Witenas voice broke through the air like a jagged spear, her words pierced me and I nodded weakly despite myself, "I have noticed something was holding him from me, would you be kind enough to share your wise words as to why he is holding back?" Witena nodded slowly, looking at me directly, "He is holding back from you under my guidance." She explained flatly. My knees crumpled from under me at her words, my breathing became heavy and every one of my limbs felt twice its usual weight. I rose my eyes to meet hers, "Why? We have never crossed paths on a sour tone.wise Witena.tell me why you are holding Numbe from me?" My plea was a weak one and didn't break the expression on the old woman's face, "Because he, or any other man is not for you Aiena," She paused, sighing and shaking her head. What worried me the most is that she could not meet my eyes once again. I shakily rose to my feet with the help of the crude staff I had held before collapsing and looked at her quizzically, "Wh-what do you mean?" I stammered, trying to grasp onto a meaning, any meaning.yet Witena said nothing more, she only rose her intricately carved staff to my face, shaking it and pounding it into the ground, she rose her withered right hand and began to mutter, but what scared me the most was the look in those old dull eyes of hers. She kept muttering in a deep voice, shaking and pounding the staff more furiously with every bout of muttering. My heart began to pound in my ribs, my breath came hoarse through my mouth and I began to sink to the ground as I had before, but not by my own will.there was a heavy super natural power weighing me down, making my mind twist and turn, every fibre of my being began to burn. I wanted to scream, scream for help, for mercy.anything to make this feeling stop. Witena, did not give in however, she kept chanting in that low mumbling voice, staring right at me.I forced myself to look into those eyes once again, what I saw horrified me. But what I saw was not there.what Witena had done to me, forced me to see her as what she really was.a witch, and a crooked one at that.
The black spirits of immortality swirled around and through me, it had been minutes since Witena had stopped, and she stood, rooted to the spot were she'd begun that horrible curse. I still burned inside, the weight had been lifted when the curse chants had ceased, yet I still looked up at her.the one that had changed me forever.and I hated her, oh how I hated her for what she had done to me. I slowly rose, again with the help of my staff, but something strange happened next. The sturdy crude staff I'd held minutes ago splintered under my grasp.my eyes widened, my breath caught in my throat. My gaze whipped back toward Witena whose eyes had also grown to the size of the moon. I set my jaw and let the breath expel quickly from my nostrils, 'What has she done to me?' I thought to myself and gazed up at the skies for a moment to calm my nerves. I could see the stars! No, not as their usual white specks but as you would through a modern magnifying mechanism.I could see their gases flowing around the small fragments of rock.their beauty stunned me. Then I remembered Witena was still in front of me, and I returned my gaze to her. "What in the name of the heavens have you done to me you filthy old demon worshipper?" I snarled. The curse I snarled at Witena forced her to fumble back a pace, in all my years, she and I had been close as a mother and daughter.little did she know what she had done to me, what torture her supposedly harmless curse had laid on me and what I would be put through because of it. "I-I.I only wanted you two to be safe." She mumbled, a barely audible sound but I could hear it, loud and clear. "Safe? Only safe? Witena.do you know what you've done to me?" I screamed at her, my breath quickening, I wanted to grab her and shake her.make her feel what she'd done to me. Witena fumbled back another step, tripping over a slight raise in the harsh ground and tumbled into a heap practically at my feet. She slowly brought her eyes to meet mine, and she gasped. It was the last thing she ever did.and also the last person of my tribe before I fled forever. Never to return to the mountains I knew so well.
Within many days of my personal exile I had crossed lands that my tribe hadn't even heard of, being immortal means you have no real need for sleep, your power is drawn from the paranormal.in other words.the gods. The gods power is endless.and so is yours, until your life ends in one brutal act. This is how I came to meet my 5000-year-old companion, Klein. He has a way about him which only immortals and Scotsmen will understand, for he is both in the same. He was brought up in the ancient Scottish highlands by a primitive Celtic tribe.much like my own, with their traditions, superstitions and general ways of living. Klein is like me in ways and we also have our differences, one of the more obvious is our skin pallor and sex, his is Caucasian, mine is black, he is a man, I am a woman.this difference alone has caused problems within our friendship and matters concerning larger communities.
Our first meeting was onboard a Spanish galley around 1794, when I and several hundred other 'black slaves' had been 'hunted', caught and transported to the slave markets in America. The first time I saw him, I knew he was unlike the Spaniards that surrounded him. There was a caring gleam in his and every time a child was loaded on, I could tell that his heart fell another step. I was loaded on with the second 'batch', I'd been able to learn fragments of Spanish over my travels in the galleys but none of what the men were saying made any sense. Two dirty hands grasped my arms and shoved me onto the wreaking slave ship, I kept my head up high because I knew that I would survive, a mother and her child were pushed on after me, one of the crew laughed and slapped her cruelly across the face. Klein's jaw clenched and he kicked the man, obviously he did not appreciate it but for some reason he did not retaliate. He picked up the woman and gave her a kind smile, we were then herded to the cargo holds, there would have been at least 150 men, women and children crammed in the small space, some were horribly sick or just terrified. I couldn't blame them of course; I would have been in the same state if I had not endured so much in my already long life.
Through the long hours we spent in the hold, we could not tell if it was day or night. Disease and hunger were a commonplace in the hold and although I was neither in need for food or medical attention, I acted so as to 'fit in' with the rest of my slave companions. The memories of the slave ship still haunt me, even though I have lived through every trauma this world has made me face. We were all hauled out of the hold quite sometime afterwards, seeing light for the first time in perhaps months, I squinted, my eyes adjusted quickly and I sighed, breathing in the clean, unpolluted air. We were at a docking port, from what I could gather, it was another Spanish colony, I had not travelled there before but I knew it would take some sort of miracle for me to be able to return to the Africa's. Klein was helping some of the women and children from the small port in the floor when a fight broke out between several of the African men and the crew, I spun around as one of the Spaniards unsheathed his sword, the African did not flinch. He reached out and tore the sword from the man's grip, slashing the Spaniard across the chest and killing him. This defiant move spurred the rest of the Africans to begin a massive fight against their captors. The women huddled close to the port of the ship as every able-bodied African man took on a Spaniard, fortunately for the Africans; they outnumbered the Spaniards at least four to one. Klein was spared, thankfully, seeing as though a majority of the Africans had respect for men who had a pure and kind heart as he did. He moved over toward the throng of terrified African women and hoarded them off to the port, I followed close to him and then found myself being pulled to the side once we were on hard ground. Klein turned toward me and smiled, I smiled back, "Ye are not like the others eh?" He asked quietly in his thick Scottish accent, I shook my head, "No, I am not.a curse was set upon me by a witch some thousands of years ago," I replied and Klein chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I never thought I'd see the day when a blackie like yeself would be talking the modern English." I laughed, my smile broadened, "I know you are slightly in bewilderment, but trust me, I have had good cause and time to learn the language and several others mind you." Klein nodded, "Well that might be of help, seeing as though your friends up there have jus' committed a very large offense, you could interpret for em?" I nodded and sighed, "It's a matter of co-operation I'm afraid, there are different tribes within what you English call Africa. They are loyal to those within their tribe and no one else, they see other tribes as the enemy, and unfortunately for your plans my dear man.I am of a completely separate extinct tribe in comparison to these people. I would be of no help, they most likely than ever not listen to a word I say to them." Klein shrugged, "Well that makes things a wee bit more difficult now doesn't it?" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, there was a few minutes of silence and then he spoke again, "Well you have me wrong blackie, I am neither an English or the kind of man who likes t' see your kind suffering.s'pecially them little kids up there too. I'll do anythin' in my power t' help you and ye friends git back to where ever ye want te go." I smiled slightly and nodded, "Thankyou, my name is Aiena, I was born in a time when the people of the world did not even fathom moving beyond their own shores." I paused, "What is the name I should call you by?" Klein bowed slightly, "I am Klein, I also come from a time were there where kinds of tribes roaming the magnificent highlands of British lands." He chuckled, "I knew ye were different, I wasn't the least surprised when I saw that ye'd survived the conditions below deck.but for now, we best leave the chatter to a later date, I hear the authorities are arriving, best be leavin'. Come." Klein moved to the front of the group of Africans and raised his hands, the group were either yelling, screaming or mumbling, the men had created a shield around the group of women and children, one of them tried to push me back into the group but Klein restrained him, "No one is keepin' you from my sight lass.hope you don't mind but I'd rather like to know what they're sayin'.if ye could tell me that is." He glanced from the oncoming authorities to me, I nodded and sighed, "Some of the women are screaming because they're terrified, the men are boasting that they are not afraid and that they'd rather die than let the white skinners lay a hand on their families. Most of these men were exceptional hunters and brave men back in Africa, so I wouldn't doubt a word they say." I kept both my head and voice low so that I would not grab attention, Klein scoffed, "I don't doubt them either lass but if ye've ever seen what a gun can do to a brave man such as these great specimens then you'll have the same doubts as I am."
My heart leapt into my throat at the very mention of the weapons, I had seen them in action several times and I had indeed seen what they are capable of doing to their masters opposers. The bravery of my African comrades was unsurpassable but the only weapons they were used to were spears and clubs. Now my fears played on my doubts and I saw the slow death of the Africans by the means of gaoling, slavery or shooting, it was horrible and I could not wipe the images from my mind. The horses and their riders stopped several feet from us and spoke loudly to Klein. I was surprised when he answered in magnificent Spanish, you would be unable to tell that he was Scottish at all. I smiled slightly and one of the leading men stepped from his horse, walking directly toward me and talking rapidly to Klein. I could tell it was something undesirable by the expression on Klein's face. He stepped in front of me and I sighed, the Colombian had obviously taken a liking to me and I thanked the gods for Klein's reaction. "You speak English little woman.eh?" The Colombian yelled from beyond Klein and he froze, I stepped out from under his outstretched arm and nodded, "I do, and what of it?"
The Colombian was rooted to the spot, "How did you learn?" He mumbled, barely audible but my extended hearing caught the words, "I am from Egypt sir, we have had English visitors, after my release I took to the plains of Africa and was caught by these now slain slave traders." The Colombian nodded, "I see.well then, aren't you a surprise young thing? I would have never noticed but there was a way about you." Klein seemed to be taking this well but I knew that he was displeased with me when I'd spoken. I nodded in return, "Yes, there is something different about me.what is to become of the Africans behind me?" The Colombian shrugged, "We were called here by an onlooker who has remained unknown so far, they most likely will face the courts and be gaoled for their crimes." My heart fell, I was sickened, all they had done was try to break free from one set of shackles and they were bound again. This wasn't right yet there was little I could do about it. I sighed and looked back at the masses of people, their skin glistening with sweat in the morning sun rays, their spirits were of a wild and untamed land, it would be worse than torture for them to be locked away for years on end.and I would not allow such people to face a horrible future, it was beyond my nature. I turned back to the Colombian and raised a brow, "I will act in their defence, and surely the courts would listen?"
=====================================================
I tried my hardest to set the group free, some were doomed for gaol, some were taken to the slave markets and others killed themselves before the trial had even begun in fear of what was to become of them. Their pleas and cries fill my head whenever I chance to close my eyes, and despite Klein's comforting words, I am unable to block them from my mind. They were once proud souls, broken then under the harsh white mans whips.
I was able to leave the shores of Colombia on board an English vessel with Klein; I was seen as a wonder to the white man, I was treated with respect and kindness in turn for my wisdom of my homeland and the world I inhabited. The English were kind and gentle to the slaves, which they saved and their mission was to rid the world of the slave trade, I saw this as a noble cause and I worked with the English soldiers for some years before leaving the sea and settling in the British Isles. Klein showed me his homeland, the rolling hills and lush fields caught in my dreams, his family line long lost, Klein decided to travel to his old home site alone for some weeks. I stayed in a quaint village for the remainder. Most of the villagers had never seen someone of my colour, which didn't bother me seeing as though I felt I fit in well enough.
On the third day of my stay in the village I felt a tug on my long skirt, I looked down and smiled, a young girl looked up at me in amazement, "Your skin is black miss." She said, craning her neck up to look me in the eyes, I crouched down and nodded, "I know, I am not from these parts." The girls eyes widened and she cocked her head to the side, "Where you from then?" She asked inquisitively. I smiled, my white teeth showing, "I am from the Africas, far east from here." The girl nodded and stepped backward a little, I turned my head to see the large bulk of a man stooping over me. I stood and faced him. "What are you doing here witch? We do not need your kind polluting this quiet little village." I raised a brow, "I mean you no harm sir and I am no witch.I come from Egypt and travelled here with a friend he sh-" I was cut off by the mere look on his face. A gruesome snarl covered his features, his breathing heaved and he clenched his jaw, "You are not welcome here wench.leave before I snap you in two." He snarled and my eyes widened, this was not going as well as I had planned, I knew the people thought me a little suspect but I had no idea that I was thought of a some sort of 'demon worshipper'. I thought back to that horrid night and a tear formed in my eyes, I clenched my fists under the thick wrap I wore and sighed, calming myself and looking my accuser dead in the eye, "You think me a witch, what proof do you have of this accusation? I am no more a witch than you are.if you think me anything I will deny it for an exception of the person you see in front of you. I am a simple traveller in search of hope.nothing more." The man grumbled and turned his back on me, walking down the street. I exhaled slowly and looked to the sky, began toward my lodging, I was praying secretly for Klein to return so that we could continue on our way, my welcome had worn out.
I finally made it into my small room and fell onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. I realised that it could be several days until Klein returned and that made my heart sink even further. I'd been able to handle accusations in the past but I'd never thought that I would have been called a witch before. My hands balled to fists and for the first time in many years, tears crept into my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. My heart welled with fears and doubts about my future, how I would survive to the present day was completely beyond my comprehension. Yet as the old saying goes, what does not kill you only makes you stronger.
It was around midday when I was interrupted by a knock then by Klein's voice, "Get up lass, ye've missed on the first meal of the day and ye'll miss on the second if ye stay in there." I chuckled and he entered, "There ye go. Come, up ye get." I nodded and yawned; I put away the small pouch of stones I'd been consulting all night. "When did you arrive?" I enquired as he picked my dry clothes off the hanger, "About five hours ago, spent a little time chattin' to the owner, apparently there's word of a black skinned woman in th' parts an' she's a witch." He looked up at me and chuckled, "I thought I told ye to keep a low profile while I was gone?" I nodded, "I did nothing out of the ordinary Klein I assure you. These people are suspicious of their own mothers, I cannot help it if they suspect a black stranger of witchcraft."