May / June 100 Word Anonymous Challenge

elvet

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This is the thread for the stories. You may enter as many stories as you like.
I (elvet) will be accepting entries until 11:59 GMT on Tuesday June 15. I will post a poll, and voting will will continue for at least 5 days. Please give your entry a title, otherwise it's quite complicated distinguishing between them when it comes to voting.
DO NOT POST YOUR OWN STORIES IN THIS THREAD.
Private message (also known as conversation) your entries to @elvet.

GENRE : SPECULATIVE FICTION
TOPIC : IMMORTALS
The discussion thread is here
 
Requiem

The two who had once been billions drifted through the cosmos, contemplating the birth and death of stars. They communicated with each other rarely, although the transmission of thought required only an act of will, and was instantaneous. When an immense black hole consumed the cluster of galaxies that was the origin of their multiple bodies, lost so long ago that they hardly remembered them at all, they agreed, without the need for discussion, to abandon the last touch of individuality they possessed. When the universe died, there would be nothing left to share. They merged, and became everything.
 
The View from Above

"I don't understand the fascination you have for him." the Bard said.

"He enjoys my work, and I must confess I enjoy his as well, Bill." the Poet said as he stared into the glass ball they used to observe what happened on earth.

"Has he written anything since that dreadful 'comedy'?"

"Right now he's working on something for a short story contest. It has to be on a specific theme."

"What theme is that?"

"Immortality or immortals or something like that. I don't remember."

"Immortals?" the Bard said "Maybe he could write about us."
 
Head-to-head

“So, immortality, eh?”

“Yeah.”

“Forever.”

“Forever, yeah.”

“Infinite.”

“Really small, yeah.”

“No, infinite; endless, unbounded, perpetual, everlasting, ceaseless.”

“Right, yeah. What’s that like then?”

“Long, very long. Lots of days, months, years. Eons of time.”

“Who are they then?”

“What?”

“These Ians of time?”

“No, eons. They’re like posher eternities.”

“Oh, right. Does that make them long then?”

“Eternities? Yeah. Like when it’s pouring down and you’re standing soaked in a vandalised bus shelter. You’ve just missed one bus and the next is over an hour away.”

“Yeah.”

“Like that.”

“Oh, right. Good job I took the car then.”
 
If Only There Was a Memory Elixir.


The anvil pulled me under.

It’s been 1000 years since I drank that Intish elixir. Afterwards I fell in with the immortal crowd. An exciting bunch. Never questioned my place; until last months long-claw incident. It rattled me, I began questioning my mortality. What if I'd misread the elixir’s label? ‘Immortality’ and ‘anti-aging’ look very similar in Intish.

Suddenly feeling too fragile for the immortal group, I chilled with my anti-aging friends. Nice chaps. But life felt stale without the thrill of adrenaline.

I no longer knew who I was or where I belonged. But I would soon find out.
 
Vocabulous

That's because you are using 'immortal' as equivalent to 'eternal' - they're not the same word. And even ,eternal' doesn't imply 'unchanging' but agreed, it is impossible - even quarks decay in a trillion years.

But 'immortal' only signifies 'undying'. Amoebae, reproducing by fission, never need to experience death, (and probably wouldn't recognise him if he arrived).

Take, for example, cousin Claire. Have you observed any evidence she is alive, or has ever been? Her conversation would bore that amoeba, or a marble statue, and in what way would the infinite universe be changed should her chemical reactions cease?
 
A Tricky Conversation


"Oh mortal Thor, come forth!"

"We who dwell in Asgard are im-mortal."

"But this scroll of summoning reads I'm mortal Thor"

"Fool, it's Immortal Thor!"

"Typo perhaps. You're truly immortal?"

"Yes."

"You can't die?"

"No."

"What if I decapitated you with this axe?"

"What if I smote you with this thunderbolt?"

"Umm.... moving on.... Oh, immoral Thor!"

"IMMORTAL!"

"It definitely says immoral."

"Another typo?"

"But you're god of war? That's fairly immoral."

"Look, I'm warning you... Who gave you that scroll?"

"Loki."

"That joker! I'll kill him when I see him!"

"But I thought you said you're all immor..."

ZAP!
 
Details are the Devil

Liddell Huges was irritated, he objected to paperwork on a very fundamental level, the accountant opposite him was creating more.

“According to our records you have been immortal for 293 years, less an initial lifespan of... so compounding with daily interest, your outstanding balance is” she slid a small receipt over. “That is a legal document, once signed and paid, we will consider this transaction complete.”

A smile slowly crept onto Liddell’s face, they hadn’t adjusted for 220 years of inflation. “Can you break a bill or shall I get us a coffee?”

The accountants eyes widened in horror.
 
The Long Goodbye

We had fought the Third World War - humanity versus the elements - and lost, so we retreated into space, settling down there to wait until we could go home.

But our young people would not wait. They wanted worlds of their own.

So we built vast hibernaculums for them, stocked their ships with supplies, kissed their eyelids one last time as they fell asleep, and gently packed their bodies into coffins for the long journey.

As we watched the ships drift away from us, we wept; and because we could not bear to say their names, we called them the Immortals.
 
The Immortals of San Francisco

I'm seven, nearly eight and I'm immortal. My skateboard stops on a dime and I've got laser reflexes.

I'm racing down the sidewalk to meet Rico and Jonno by the dumpster in the alley down the side of Parkers store.

They're immortals too. Jonno overtook a tram then ran a red light just to prove it. Rolled up to us, grinning, hand up for a high five.

Rico says that that kid Angelo is dead, tombstoning into the lake at the quarry.

Too bad. Looks like he wasn't one of us.

We grab a truck bumper back up the hill.
 

A Fight About Money​


“I said no!" growled Jack. "We can't afford Elysia Prime."
“And I said we’re going,” screamed Kate. “I need a holiday.”

Jack sighed, pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket, and shot his wife in the head. Ristorante Sontuoso’s white wall became an abstract expressionist’s masterpiece.
Jack soaked in the astonishment before turning the weapon on himself.

Transaction Notification: couple’s respawn pack – 50,000,000 dodgecoin.
Police Notification: Misdemeanour Murder Charge Pending.


Seriously!” Kate emerged, naked and hairless, from their home respawn chamber.
Jack did likewise, grinning. “Definitely can’t afford it now.”
Kate shook her head. “That was my favourite restaurant.”
 

Again


A whisper, a shifting of small grains as up from beyond the stones they come, ethereal coils coalescing into solidity.


New eyes blink, focus on the dead world: mere detritus and rot, all that’s left after the scourge of the apes.


They smile, grimly and begin again, for this is their task.


When the first plant seeds and the first rain falls, satisfied, they nod to each other, turning ready to descend. But One thinks: will it be this time?


One replies: hopefully so. Let the whales try. They can hardly do worse.


In the fresh deeps, a singing begins.
 
Though I May Live Forever

I have eaten of golden apples a long time ago
Centuries filled with moments I cannot seem to recall
An inventor entered my life with all I've come to know
He came to live quite long while still in mortality's thrall

I have witnessed, with these eyes, empires rise and fall from grace
Though inexperienced, he had shown such wisdom and wit
He will be remembered for his vision, not for his face
He will live beyond me, though his pyre be already lit
 
The Definition of Life​


81,000 days, it’s been, since the deities returned, and the final death was died. I prayed for riots, and for disorder. Now, I pray for death.


I’ve stopped fighting for the courts to readjust life sentences. People have forgotten what it meant for a life to end. They believe historical deaths to be produced by witchcraft. After centuries of protests, the judges vowed to never release us Bringers of Decease.


I can deal with millennia of not tasting food. The thing that haunts me is Father’s facial spasms, a booger on his moustache as he succumbed to my poison.
 
Where Dreams Come True


Discovering an ancient tomb, two adventurers approached the spirit within.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?" it boomed.

"To claim my heart's desire" replied the bolder adventurer.

"WHICH IS?"

"Fame. Immortality. To live amongst the stars."

"INTERESTING. ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?"

"Certainly."

Suddenly, agonisingly, the adventurer began to shrink, and as he did so his skin metalised. Eventually, all that remained was a small golden statuette lying on the floor.

"AND WHAT IS YOUR DESIRE?" the spirit asked the less bold adventurer.

"Err... to go home?" he whimpered.

"A WISE DECISION. AND TAKE YOUR FRIEND..."

"Oscar."

"...TAKE OSCAR WITH YOU".
 
Meeting No. 2,987,087

The vampire and the werewolf met at midnight.
“We demand recompense, before a truce can be considered,” hissed the vampire.
The werewolf howled with laughter, “Shall I call an accountant to tally the wrongs we’ve exchanged, bloodsucker?”
“I’m talking actual crimes!”
Crimes? What crimes?”
“Arson!” The vampire struggled not to bare his fangs. “Our homes!”
“Oh, that prank with coffins?” The werewolf shrugged, “The cubs have been rebuked.”
“Coffins, shifty dog? Priceless heirlooms! With residents!
The vampire and the werewolf parted shortly after midnight; it had once again been an easy victory for their immortal feud.
 
Omnia

Omnia welcomed the blackness; an imminent end it could feel, if not see.

Eons had eroded the memory of its inexplicable transcendence beyond corporeal form – so, too, had they dulled the anguish of quietus.

Stars, galaxies, their beloved home world… now atoms; black holes devoured themselves; cosmic expansion had dispersed all light beyond perception… but these were small things.

True tragedy was the dissolution of love, music, art… even language; Omnia had long since forgotten its voice.

But it no longer feared the universe’s end, a concept once unimaginable…
Fate spared no child, thus atrophy would not spare fate.
 
weight of the world

"You're claiming the body? Why? We already salvaged the implants."

"But not the nanotech," I pointed out. "Your lab's not equipped."

Until this reclamation gig, I didn't really think about how the orbital communities sent their criminals earthside. Their murderers haunted the Mediterranean coastline, meagre figures in ragged flight suits, dossing down on tidewall walkways, sleeping rough in ancient amphitheatres.

Technically immortal, they didn't get government aid or meds. Adapted to zerogee, they lacked physical strength. They never survived long on handouts.

The space born faith told them death was gravity's stepson.

I leaned in. "Just leave me the head."
 
Why Masterpieces Sometimes Remain Unfinished

One gloomy morning, Relios (erratic deity of Light and Shadows) alighted from his lofty Cloud to visit Somer the Poet.
“What are you writing?” Relios demanded to know.
“An epic tale about the follies of single-minded men and eh... meddling gods,” Somer replied.
“And will I appear in this tale?”
Somer swallowed. “Assuredly not! Your acts never are folly!”
“Perhaps,” Relios mused (while casting lasting shadows into Somer’s eyes), “but I do love to meddle.”
As Somer stumbled through her cottage, Relios (satisfied with a day well spent) languished on his Cloud and watched the sunset, bright and red.
 

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