My mother told me that I was marked by a monster. She hated my cerise eyes. She believed that they belonged to the putrid beast that had defiled my soul. Now, I don’t know if I think any of it, but they certainly did. Villagers loathed my existence. My earliest memories are of makeshift stone tools piercing my body, and of my flesh cindering in flame. Now I wander, scarless and still forever young. What I want most in the world is to know why I exist: what purpose does my life serve?
The onslaught of noises is so intense that only 2 sounds can be recognized among the disorder: the “clooking” of horses galloping on sturdy ground, and the agonizing wails of men as they cling to a rapidly receding consciousness. Men such as myself were offered no alternative but to fight. Whereas I was loathed and cursed by my home, I am welcome here.
“Filthy Roman” a man derogatorily attempts to spite me by saying as he plunges his broadsword into my chest and forces me onto my back.
Unfortunately, he assumes such an attack was good enough. I slash at his feet with my own shorter sword and slice his ankles.
“How in God's name do you still fight?”
The man’s injury is far too severe for him to stand, nevertheless, he rests assured that the hole through my chest will have me dead before I can take advantage of it.
“What kind of abomination are you?” He begs as a true horror appears before his eyes. The blood that soaks the ground beneath me begins to form into strands of connections. Almost like a cloth draped from one side of a room to another, the solid strands stretch and cross the gaping hole and begin to turn solid, replacing the once-present flesh that had been pierced through.
“I-I’ve got family, please” He pleads. And before the decision can even be made to kill him, another soldier performs the job while galloping by on a horse and wielding a long spear.
I steel myself and continue cutting down warriors, carried in each fight by my indomitable flesh rather than any sort of talent or skill. One after another, soldiers die. A man I would come to know as Pondo stood out only in the way that he was cleanly shaven, a surprising rarity among men of the time. And he was fast too. His sword struck into my own, sending sharp vibrations down my arms. He quickly redirected his sword from the recoil and I acted in that moment. In the brief instant, before he put motion to his arm, I swung my own in such a manner that it cleanly detached the man’s head.
I have to admit, it’s more horrifying to see than I thought. Blood poured from the many vital arteries and capillaries in his neck, which were now severed, and in a way, I now understood what fear those other men must have felt. The blood stayed connected between his head on the ground and his still-standing body. At such a distance between the two pieces of him, it looked like the scarlet legs of a spider. Large jagged spikes flowed and circulated while maintaining a solid form. 

“I’ve seen it from you… I know that you are like me” He croaked as his head re-attached itself
“What do you know? Please tell me what I am! Why do I exist” I pleaded
“You want to know why you exist? Why would that be something for me to tell you?”
“Surely you know something about-” *THUD*
In the tantalizing moment where the answers I so desperately sought were standing in front of me, misfortune struck. He was skewered and dragged by an oncoming horse, taking him away from me.
The pathway is lined with worn limestone bricks, dusted with sand which tracks in and out from the travelers who pass through this oasis. I observe the various shops posted around as I hear a voice call to me.
“I recall a time when the lush life and purity of nature reigned supreme over this place. Has it truly been so long that only these amber dunes remain?”
I turn to face a man who is covered entirely with protective rags. I cannot see his face, but I’m deeply aware of who the man I’m looking at is.
“Can you tell me what we are? I’ve wandered for so long, knowing nothing about who I am, please tell me you have the answer…”
“I am but a human,” he states confidently. We speak at a distance, but I’m eyeing his long, thin sword.
“I live, I speak, I eat, I think, I sleep… I am clearly alive” he continues to step towards me. “I also sing, I cry, I read, and I desire… what could be more human than that?”

Finally, as I process his words, he draws his sword and plunges it into me. He attacks me over and over, his efforts leave me brutalized. I too wondered what the limits were. After a certain amount of injury, would I stop healing? After such an attack, I can say certainly that I can heal from truly anything. It takes hours before I am entire again, but by then he is gone, and all that remains are letters carved into the stone on the ground where I lay: Pondo.
I watch through a curved lens over an empty area littered with casings of bullets and gas from chemical attacks. It’s the picture of despair: gray and dull. After months spent in these forsaken trenches, it’s entirely usual. At the end of my shift, I make my way into my personal quarters, which is a generous name for the cramped, muddy hole where I stuff my things.
Along the walls lined with different pockets for soldier’s personal quarters, I saw him. Three holes down from my own was a dirty man who I instantly recognized. Anybody else might not have been able to tell from this distance, but I knew immediately that it was him, for I had not forgotten his appearance even after thousands of years.
I drew forth the gun which I carried with me and walked towards him. My bayonet locked onto the front of my blade, and I approached his turned back.
“Turn around slowly, keep your arms out where I can see them” I warned, entirely prepared to use my tool.
He followed my instructions, although he seemed to misunderstand the situation.
“Taking me prisoner? You’re a fool trying such a stunt in our territory, you’ll be executed the moment they see you, foul German roach”.
“Isn’t it Pondo? That’s your name?...Look at me” I ordered
“I see…” he pauses “You’re sour about before?” He asked, clearly having figured out who I was, and alarmingly fast.
“I should riddle you with holes right now”
“And what would that accomplish? Revenge?” He rhetorically asked.
“Maybe, it would serve you well to suffer a bit”
“I’ll take it if you really want me to, but I’m willing to discuss this” He calmly negotiates as he unclips the strap holding his gun to his back, allowing it to fall to the ground.
“Who are you and why did you attack me?”
“My name is Pondo. I was born at least twelve thousand years ago. Like you, I cannot be killed and I do not age. I attacked you to find out if you were truly like me. I’ll accept whatever repercussions you choose for me”.
I suddenly force my bayonet into his shoulder, twist it slightly, and pull it out. He reacts slightly but does not take any action towards me.
“I’ll count us even with that” I respond and lower my gun.
“I’m not demanding, but who are you?” he asks, directing a question at me for the first time.
“My name is Loy, and I’m not sure when I was born.”
He seemed puzzled by that response. Had he truly kept track of his entire lifespan over such an enormous amount of time?
“Are there others like us?” I ask him.
“I am truly not sure. You are the only person I’ve ever met who is like me. Perhaps we are unique.”
Following this meeting, I would go on to become acquainted with Pondo well as we fought together in the Great War, grasping victory for our collective side. However soon after the war ended, we split up. One hundred years have passed since then, and finally, Pondo has appeared again.
I received a card in my mailbox today with an address attached and signed by Pondo. I’ve been driving for 13 hours to see my old friend, and I will be arriving at the address shortly.
I pulled into the driveway of the large estate and walked towards the door when a young lady answered.
“You are Loy?” She half asked, half stated.
“Yes that’s right, I’m here to see my friend”
She gestured at me to follow her inside. As I stepped foot into the enormous house, I noticed the menagerie of exotic items exalted across the walls. A  goliath mammoth’s tusk, a gilded crown carved with what seemed to be hieroglyphics and even a large taxidermy bird that resembled an extinct species known as the Dodo. It would be impossible for that to be real, I’m nearly, almost certain. The woman led me to a door at the end of a long corridor where the sight before me was truly unimaginable.
“I’m glad you were able to come in time” the man lying on the bed explained to me.
It was certainly the man I knew, Pondo, although there was something wrong. He looked thin and frail, his skin was pale, and he was hooked up to strange equipment.
“I won’t waste your time, Loy. I’m currently undergoing a process we both thought impossible: I’m dying”
I nearly dropped to my knees at the concept alone.
“2 days ago, I visited a hospital for the first time in thousands of years. And I heard news which I have always assumed would never cross my ears. I am dying of cancer, specifically, Lymphoma.”
“Cancer of the blood” I instinctively responded, putting the pieces together.
Weirdly, it made sense. The part of our bodies that was most unique seemed to be our blood, which was the root of our healing properties. Perhaps it was also our kryptonite or the only killable part of us.
“They aren’t sure why, and I have my suspicions, but my time is nearly up. The cancer is moving at supernatural speeds. I have less than 18 hours left before I’m gone”
We sat together for a while and recounted stories of our lives. We could have gone on for years and never run out of stories, but the late evening seemed our limit, or rather, his limit.
“I want you to take care of my possessions, Loy. I trust that only you will be able to treat them properly”
Before I could respond with something, I watched as the monitor showed me that the inevitable had finally arrived. My friend was dead.
For the first time in my life, I sat and truly pondered what to make of my existence. Perhaps the answers I sought for so long didn’t yet exist. Still, I wonder if I am truly alone now, or if I am human. Perhaps it is my curse to bear the burden of these questions, and I will bear that burden for as long as I am gifted with precious life.