Benjamin Leblanc would be 262 in October this year. But he didn't look a day over 24. In fact, he had looked 24 for 237 years now. He didn't even know how this happened. In fact, he vividly remembered dying. I mean, who would forget that his best friend and his own father burned him alive, all because the church feared him the devil. But God, or maybe even the devil, took pity on him. He woke up the next morning. Which seemed impossible, right? Wrong. He didn't even have evidence of being burned alive. But what is done is done, as the saying goes. needless to say, he skipped town.
Nowadays, he lived on the outskirts of a small seaside town. He liked the quiet, almost eeriness of the dark foreboding ocean. Like him, the ocean knew of, and lived, every horror of man. The ocean had, in fact, lived through more horrors, but that goes without saying. In a way, the ocean and him were one and the same.
He loved waking up at dawn and running across the jagged rocks that formed along the coastline. The thick fog that spawned from the ocean's cold waters were a creature comfort to him. He loved the smell of the salty air, and the feeling of the cold breeze as he ran. He loved the run even more when it was raining. The dark fog, the cold rain, and salty air acted as a cover to him. An enveloping blanket. The cool water on his warm skin. The drastic difference of these feelings let him know that he was still alive. That both comforted him and filled him with a great sorrow.
Today was one of those days. Without even looking through his window, which faced the ocean, he could feel the rain in his bones. He rose from his bed, shivering from the cold, I must have forgotten to turn on the heater, he thought to himself. He slipped into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and put on his shoes, and slipped out the door. He felt the rain pelt into the fabric of his clothes, as he took the trail to the water's edge, a trail he had been taking since he bought the house in 1929. His run was the same as it was for the past 93 years. Down to the weeping willow at the lagoon, 7 miles from his house, and back. it took him 2 hours and 13 minutes each time.
Upon reaching home, he lit his fireplace. Once the warmth could be felt starting to spread around his living room, he retreated to his bathroom to draw a bath. In his bath, he added lavender oil, and Epsom salt. Even though he was immortal, he still felt the pain of a 14 mile run, and certainly reeked of it. He submerged himself in the warm water, letting his body loosen, and relax. Benjamin was content, but not happy.
In fact, Benjamin despised his life. It was a ritualist and mundane existence. Every day was the same. The only thing changing was the years. He sighed, a single tear falling from his dark eyes. He looked in the mirror, hanging opposite of his marble tub, and muttered just three words.
I hate you
Those words, he had muttered as casually as saying hello to a familiar face at a cafe. And yet, the full truth of the matter was abundantly darker. In all his years of living, he had not let himself find happiness. he lived his life contently, sure, but happiness? For him this was just a foolish dream.
He sighed, letting his head fall beneath the lavender infused water, letting himself stay there until he could not feel the fire from the lack of breath in his lungs. He was still somehow alive. He lifted his head from the waters and cursed. It had been well over 200 years and yet his body refused to die, decay, or just cease to function.
He finished his shower and dried himself off with a towel, laid neatly onto the bathroom counter. He checked himself in the mirror. He had memorized every flaw his body had. The fullness of his bottom lip, compared to the smaller, more demure upper lip. The dips in the side of his hips, never filling, no matter what exercise he does. the small scar above his right eyebrow, preventing any hair from growing in that section of his brow. He sighed and started to apply shaving cream.
He finished his shave and went to sit by the fire. He had already alleviated the chill from his bones but wanted to stay bathed in the warmth today. It was the only thing keeping him distracted from his sad, never-ending existence.
Benjamin closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the fire bath over his exposed body, sending shockwaves over his most sensitive areas. the warmth flicked its moving hand over his body, touching its way along. breathing warmth over his ears, and softly kissing his lip. Moving down to kiss along his neck, the fire creeped over his clavicle, tickling the nerves and sending pleasurable sensations down his body. The fire grazed over his nipples, as if taunting Benjamin with lustful gestures. Benjamin found comfort in the warm touch of the fire, finding this experience makes him feel the most alive.
He bathed in the sultry glow of the fire for just a few more minutes before getting up to run errands. He walked into his bedroom to put on an outfit, before grabbing his keys from the counter, and popping his wallet into his back pocket. He made his way to his Acura integra. one he had got from craigslist, simply because he had to be careful with his fake ID.
He started the hour long drive into the nearest city. Today was his day to go and get groceries. The radio set to NPR, the gentle voice that had greeted his ears for the last few years spoke once again, pattering on about a war is the east, a flood in the lower southern states of the u.s. and a scandalous government bribery. He sighed. Once you live 2 and a half centuries, the news becomes the same. Terror. Tragedy. Corruption.
Death. At least, for the rest of society.
He sighed, and turned down the station, and turned his mind to his trip. He didn't mind it. What was driving an hour for groceries compared to living 262 years? The only inconvenience was the unsightly, and hideous super shops that held everything he needed. To him it seems wasteful, excessive and greedy. One thing never changes. The rich will do anything to get richer.
As he pulls into the store, he double checks he has enough cash. He pulls his hoodie over his head and puts on a pair of sunglasses. He grabs a cart and grabs everything he needs to cook, clean, and bath, as well as his painting supplies, some new books, and a new pair of running shoes. He paid and left, noticing how the cashier thought of him as odd. "New store next time" he made a mental note of.
As he loaded his groceries into his car, filling it to the brim, trunk and all, he felt his stomach grumble. He sighed, and started to look up cafes, as he wanted something light, seeing as he had food to cook when he got home. Only three popped up that were on his way home. He planned to stop at the one that was closest to home. About 35 minutes away. He hopped in the car, directions loaded on his phone, and drove.
