Anthology for weekendwritein

Suicide Note

After the Great War I bought a house and found an unusual four foot tall plant in my backyard. Being an avid gardener I tried and failed to identify it. So for two years I watched over the plant.

Finally I decided to test my luck and make some tea from its dried leaves. I was fairly certain it wasn't poisonous but I stayed up most of the night to be sure.

When I woke the next day I felt like I was sixteen years old again and had more energy than I knew what to do with. In my excitement I shared the tea with my two closest friends. They in turn shared it with their wives and everyone felt the same invigoration. And everyone wanted more.

I kept the plant healthy while trimming leaves from it periodically. It grew wide as more and more broad leaves filled in the spots I had pruned. I kept enough to have a cup of tea once a week over the winter until I knew it would be safe to prune some more. My friends and their wives had to go without.

Over the following years we kept drinking the tea every week. The older they got the more they realized I had stopped aging while they continued to show small signs. They demanded more of the plant so that they could live forever like they suspected I would.

One evening I caught my best friend and his wife in the backyard hacking away at the bush. We fought over it and I ended up killing both of them then burying them in the garden. Knowing my other friend would come soon asking questions I packed a few of my belongings, transplanted the plant into a pot, and left everything else behind me.

Word got out what I had done and what I had taken with me to keep it for myself. Manhunts were dispatched for me all over the state and anywhere else people claimed to have seen me. I knew they were only after the plant so I hid and waited for everyone and the stories to die.

As I waited the world changed and technology grew. The internet, cell phones, face recognition, and DNA scans made it easy for the government to find anyone. Knowing the legend of my eternal life some kid in the bureau ran my face through their system as a joke and located me in Missouri.

I saw the men in suits coming and burned everything before they arrived. I knew what I had done to keep the plant to myself and what others had tried to get it from me. I knew the greed. I also knew the possibilities something like this could create if it was exploited.

I've been held prisoner in an underground facility for six years now while they've poked, prodded, and tore chunks from me looking for anything to explain how I've lived so long. The scientists told me that I was the first person ever to live two centuries but that nobody will ever know I existed.

I escaped a few hours ago and stole this paper and pencil from a nearby house. I want to prove that I did exist. I've lived with the guilt of killing two of my friends longer than anyone on earth has been alive. I can't live with this torture anymore. I'm sorry for everything.

Martin Wallace Born June 7th, 1899 - Died 2113