Dear Mother

I will post Winter Kill, but I’m currently writing the climax, and want to make sure that I get it right. So, instead, I’ll be treating you to another one of Teresa’s Writing Prompts!

Anywhere, here’s the prompt:

Your challenge today, should you accept it, is to explore infinity. Write your take on the Science Fiction subgenre of Immortality and see where it leads…or whatever/wherever the picture takes you. There are no word limits or requirements of any kind. Just see where the picture or genre takes you and have fun.

You can check out the prompt here: https://maplesswanderer.wordpress.com/2020/01/12/daily-writing-prompt-12/

On with the story!


Aemity wiped her eyes as she dipped the quill pen into the ink bottle. Okay, so writing like that was EXTREMELY ancient – alongside writing with pen and paper, as well. Plus, writing on paper is now illegal, but she needed to get it off her chest – and without any hackers or government supervisors watching every word she posted on the Internet.

So, she was now hiding in her closet to avoid being spotted by any security cameras in her house – that was mandatory in every house. She slipped a pen torch between her teeth and shone the torch beam on the paper as she tried to figure out how to put it into words. Aemity knew that if she was discovered doing this, she would be sentenced to life imprisonment. She let out a mirthless bark at the irony of that statement.

If only that was true for me, she thought as she dipped the quill pen in the ink again and began scratching at the paper.

Dear Mother

You can now say ‘I-told-you-so’. You always told me not to follow along with the scientists and doctors spiels, warning me that in the end I’d live to regret it.

Ha!

How true that is – ‘live’. That’s all I do. It was fun at first – for the first two hundred years. Then…what you said all made sense.

If only I had had the sense to listen.

Now I have to wait until the end of the universe before I can finally go. If there ever is an end. Oh, God, I hope there is.

Nothing I do to end this torture works – not even when I threw myself off Nanga Parbat, the highest cliff on earth. Sure, I died for a few minutes before the Immorality Serum that the doctors gave me repaired my body and brought me back.

Oh, God.

At least you’re dead, Mother. Wish I was.

Aemity.


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