Life Changes in Thousandths of Ways
As a secretary of hell, my duty includes watching and recording from beginning to end of all the dead. Because of that, I have seen it all; true love, best friends, hatred… to the point that only after one hundred years, I have grown numb to these stories.
On the 1000th working year celebration of my senior, our department threw a big party and drank until everyone passed out. Well, except me and him. The wine seemed to be nothing to him, while I only sipped a little since I don’t like wine that much.
“How long have you been working here son?” he asked while having another bottle.
“100 years sir,” I replied.
While his head was up with the cup on his lips, he looked at me, “Do you still get affected by the dead’s lives?”
“Not anymore, sir,” I quickly replied and also took a sip.
*Gulp* he knocked down another bottle. I can’t believe how he is not drunk yet. “Ah! That was good,” he smiled with satisfaction, then turned to me. “Yesterday, I read a story that made me cry after hundreds of years,” He told me.
My eyes wide opened, “No way! You have been doing this for 1000 years. What kind of life did that dead have?”
“If you want to know,” the senior didn’t finish. He raised his hand and opened his library portal. A black circular void appears and slowly, a stack of paper comes out. I am all familiar with this, but what caught me off guard was the amount of paper that kept increasing like it has no end. When the senior closed the portal, the paper on the table was about ten lives.
“There is so much. I think you are a little drunk sir,” I told him.
But he shook his head, “Not at all. These are indeed that dead’s whole lives.”
“No way, how much drama did that death go through to have this much details,” I was shocked.
The senior didn’t respond. He just looked at me weirdly and said, “If you want to know, read it, I am too tired to talk.”
And with that, the senior lied down and snored.
“Uh… That was weird,” I thought to myself. I then stood up, hugged the huge stack of paper and quietly got out of the party room, and went home. That night, even though I was working during the day and had to attend a party at night, I couldn’t sleep. Like magic, my eyes couldn’t take a glance off the paper that was sitting on my table. After two hours of staring, I finally got out of bed and sat down to read. The story starts out normal and generic like all the other dead’s lives, but after his 17th birthday, I was so immersed that I took three days off just to read nonstop without any sleep.
When I got to the final words, tears rained from my eyes nonstop. This story will forever affect me and will constantly be in the back of my mind.
Shyerin · Fantaisie
