3rd December 3045,
Wednesday,
10.45pm,
Dear Diary,
Imagine, a world where death never existed, you could explore it as much as you want, but if you ever truly wished for it, beware, because immortality followed you to the very extent, until the most it could, till forever since death and end were two words which bore no meaning to the people.
Just a little more than a thousand years ago, If I'd uttered these words to someone, they'd probably ask me if I'd gone senile, which I wish I could, seeing how it's practically impossible now. Since 2023, over a span of 51 decades, humanity, has made technology a mere mockery and plaything to agitate other fellow humans. Tranquility and emotions have for long eroded and vanished as the idea of eternity trapped those greedy and willful into a vicious cycle that knew no bounds. The unspeakable fear of death, which made life of what it’s essence constituted, decades ago, is now gone, for now, death is one thing we can’t afford to have.
In this world full of those drowned in unquenchable thirst, arrogance and vanity and those still nearing the depths, the very few like me, brimming with emotion, unpleasantness, and questioning reality are what they call “outcasts.”
Us outcasts, little of those who feel the world that we live in is an exhausting place to be. It is wearing. It is thankless. It is endlessly tiring and scarcely rewarding. Where you’re tired of loving too much, caring too much, giving too much to a world that never gives anything back. You are tired of investing in indefinite outcomes. You’re tired of uncertainties. Tired of grey. But not only that, tired of the selfless happiness of callous people around us.
A little of those who feel sadness, fear, anger and not just plain joy. A little of those who wish death wasn’t a utopic idea.
We haven’t always been this worn out – hard to imagine that there was a time when we were as hopeful and demanding as the rest. When our optimism outweighed our cynicism and rationality and we had an infinite amount in ourselves to give, but more to take. But when you live life the same way, not one change in your schedule, you get tired of it. There hasn’t been anything “OUT OF SORTS” or truly fascinating, the same old faces have been around for decades, of course, we’d get bored? And in severity, exhausted. For a little of us, have lost what this inhuman humanity call “hope.”
But, we are also, a little of those who hide a secret, a blessing that could end our curse, an offering to help us rest in peace, defiant of what stands in front of us. A secret, a way that could actually end this loop of eternity. For it needs the presence of that one outcast, one whose wanting to die is far greater than the others, for it needs the presence of someone like me.
To fulfil our darkest desire, to end this obnoxious suffering, a pact must be formed with Azrael, the angel of death that has appeared in innumerous myths passed down generations, the one immortal being, the one sole being who was subjected to death even after 2023, the one and only one who could put us out of our misery, and tomorrow serves the day of our encounter.
Goodnight Diary,
Mara.
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Pss: Mara translates to death in Sanskrit and Azrael means angel of death.
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5th December 3045,
Friday,
10.45pm,
Dear Diary,
As the ritual neared it’s end, lightning crackled through our veins, making the outcasts jump up from the cold soil, in the middle of the forest, an abandoned destination. The footing wept of savagery, darkness as the monster crawled from the sunken shadow which seemed to have spread it’s arms open for us. The cold current ran down my spine.
“Shivers”
Fear. It was cruel, yet fascinating. I hated it, yet loved it. A feeling that I thought was new, swarmed my emotions. I could sense my stomach twisting at the thought of the demon my eyes would sight. The clenching of my heart, the unsteady beats, heavy and bright were nearly visible through my flesh and clothes. The clear the view became, the fluttering of my eyes which were shut in response to the smoke from the summoning’s flame, were opening with every second that spiked adrenaline down my brain. It was a moment of fight or flight, it consumed me. The infatuation, perhaps of fear? Felt similar to that of “love,” another unknown emotion that I often came across in books. It was weird. Love and hate were supposed to be discrete, unrelated terms. Funny how hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them. It was the first I’d ever realized of these musings. The thumping of my heart, the disinterest, the ego and the excitement.
Trust me, I didn’t know, until the smog finally lifted up. My cocoa-coloured eyes, shadowed by my dark locks stared into something dark, piercing yet dead like. Azreal’s eyes were captivating, horrifying at the same time. Deep and black like nothingness, it was almost sad but not something I had thought back then. My pupils followed down his face, noticing his firm “human” like built which didn’t feel too odd. I can still see him mounted up there, at the center of brimming frigidity, thunder, and angst. Nonetheless, what a waste of looks it was on this cruel being, as he stood there staring back at me, in his brown woolen robe, and pierced ears, symbols of both, man and beast. He was a handsome sight and in my memory’s eye, a shame it was, for that might be the last of him I would see. It’s sad, I thought.
Shaken up with my own thinking, perplexed and confused, I brushed it aside and thought of that little joy at the side as I was a step towards reaching the eternal night, the joy was indeed, little? I decided not to waver myself.
The next I knew was finding myself stretching out my hand to meet his, which awaited my company. Another thump in my heart, a weird feeling. I followed him, like an obedient bird, to wherever he led me. It was atop an old building, deserted and ruined. The thought of dying dull would have had me a little disturbed, but I bothered not to pay attention to the background, my bind of enveloped around him. He let go of my hand, guess that was the cue to jump?
…Disappointed?...
Wait, did I really? Feel disappointed? After all that determination I had, after how close I was to what I wanted? I wasn’t taking any of that! I took two steps forward, nearing the edge. Was it maybe the fear of dying that I felt, it was ridiculous. Was I not willing to?
Doubt, the only thing fleeting through my mind as I ignored it, the weird feeling of uncertainty, and decided to do what was called for. I jumped, along with Azreal, who gently floated his way down with me. Time stopped. Those were, my last moments, I had shared with him. I felt a pang in my heart, a tear I forced myself not to let out. A smile crept up my face, and surprise on his. It was beautiful. That moment. The fall to the ground felt eternal, which was a little troubling but relieving. I felt as if a new story had bloomed as my old rustly tale neared it’s end. And the story? It’s nowhere near over, it’s saddening, joyful, cruel, greedy, sarcastic, and much more, but the most fascinating of all, is that it had just begun with the jump I’d taken yesterday, on 4th December 3045.
That’s all I’ll say for today.
Goodnight Diary,
Mara.
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