This text... When, hell, if anyone finds this I can say that I'm most likely still alive, but I probably won't be anywhere near wherever you are, reader. That's because I travel a lot, not necessarily because I like traveling (I used to, but not anymore) but because I have to. Not to escape anything chasing me or anything like that, no, but to stay hidden from authority. Don't go thinking I've killed someone or anything now, no, I would never do such a thing! However, I need to stay hidden, because in their eyes I'm supposed to be dead, and that's the way it should have been.

My story is very different from most. You see, right now I am 117 years old and going. "Ridiculous!" you think, "Someone of that age would never be able to hide from authority or anything else". Well, yeah, that's the point: I made a deal. What's this "deal" you ask? Well, let's say I won a bet against a very special someone. This very special someone just happens to be the Angel of Death, the Harvester of Souls, the Grim Reaper, or whatever you want to call him. Yeah, that guy.

It was around 90 years ago, I had gotten married a year earlier and my wife had given birth to a healthy, beautiful little girl just a few months earlier. Life was going all uphill, I had just gotten a raise at work and we were thinking of buying a house so our daughter didn't have to live her childhood in an apartment downtown. I'd been able to move for two-three years, but I had gotten quite attached to the place, so I didn't fully agree to it until our little girl came into the picture.

Then I got the disease. At first it didn't seem like anything more than a cold, but as the months passed it got worse. We had bought a house, but it got harder and harder to pay back the loan. Finally, I met him. I don't know if anyone would see him like I saw him, that he takes on the form you want him too, or if he's actually just a pail, black-haired businessman, but the moment I saw him I knew it was him. He came into my room and sat down in the chair at the side of my bed, grabbed a newspaper and started reading it.

"It's my time? Already?" I asked the man.

The man looked up at me, stayed like that for a few seconds and got back to reading before he said one word:

"What about my family? Wouldn't my death ruin everything for them?!"

"I don't make the plans, I just follow them through."

"Dear God..."

"I wouldn't be thinking that highly of him in your position."

I sighed, thinking of what would happen to my girl, what would happen if she didn't have a father.

No. I didn't want to think of the possibilities. I had to think of something, so I just lied there while the man read his newspaper, before I finally got an idea:

"What about a deal? Isn't that possible?"

The man looked up at me and put away his newspaper. He thought for a moment and then told:

"If we are to make a deal, or a bet, as I would rather call it, you would have to bet something, too. If you lose I take you, your wife and your daughter. You win, I won't come visit you again."

I though about it for a moment, and I guessed that the next world would be better than living out their lives poor, having to go as far lengths as possible to just survive.


The man searched his pocket and grabbed something. As he took out his hand from his pocket he showed me what it was: a die.

"A die?!" I half-shouted, half-coughed. "What if you control what it lands on!?"

The man laughed. "Don't think too highly of me, youngster. When it comes to these things I'm closer to you than to my boss."

There was something about him that gave me trust, I knew that he wasn't lying.

"Five or six, you win, four or lower, you lose." he said, and I understood that those were the best odds I'd get.

"Are you entirely sure that you want to go through with this? I can't tell you the consequences, but you should be able to think about the possibilities yourself."

I didn't even think through it. "I'm in."

The man sighed and threw the die on top of the table. It spun for what felt like hours, but was not more than at most ten seconds, and it appeared to be about to land on the four-dotted side, but somehow it gained an extra spin and when it finally stopped it was for what I thought was the best: five.

The man sighed once again,grabbed his die and newspaper and started walking out. His only words were:
"Goodbye, Henry. For yours I hope we'll see each other again."

At that time I didn't quite understand what the man meant, but, well, now I do.

When I got home from the hospital things went back to usual. I had to work overtime a lot to be able to get our economy back to it's earlier and better state. Nothing seemed different at all, our little girl grew like she should, nothing strange at all. I started thinking that maybe it had all just been a dream, that it was just an illusion my mind made to give me the hope to make it through. Not until a few years later did I realize the side-effects of what I had done, and not through some change, but through the lack of it: My body had stopped aging. Even at 35 I looked like just above 25. Was this my curse? I didn't care. I had given my daughter a father, and that was all that mattered. She was growing into a lovely daughter, she was anything a father could ask for from a daughter, my little princess.

Of course, as the years went, this got more and more strange for my friends and even my wife, but we loved each other to such extents that how I looked didn't care. We took care of our daughter who looked so much like her mother, who aged with her mother while I stayed still. I didn't care as long as she was happy.

And then it happened. It was an accident, there had been some error in the truck since construction that would eventually lead to a failed break, and that failure just happened to happen just as my daughter was crossing the street. The truck driver had just happened to be distracted by a a man who was driving above the speed limit because he was late for a meeting. My daughter had just happened to get sick in the middle of the day so she had to go home early from school.

My wife got extremely depressed. Myself, I constantly wondered if this had been my fault? Had they taken her life early because I got to keep mine? It made me furious, knowing that I had been able to do win for them, and now lose her. My wife, she just couldn't take it. She got ill, extremely ill. She died some months later. We had our last kiss as she was laying there, just waiting for it. I knew the man that had given me this curse was in the room with us, but the only one who could see him was Melissa, and she didn't care to speak about him.

That's when I started traveling. How would it look if a forty-year-old male who's family had just died looked like he was 27? Anywhere I go I stay between three and ten years before leaving without a trace. It's the only way to keep myself from being locked in and experimented on.

Killing myself? Tried it, many times. Something always happens. Jump off a building? Land in a pile of trash. Hanging? Rope broke. I'm not getting into any more detail, but what I'm saying is that I am immortal. That's my curse. I've been living with it for 90 years now, and I'm guessing I'll be living with it for quite some time. If I ever see that man again I will embrace him like a long lost friend and walk with him wherever it is that I am going.

But one should not believe in miracles, should one?