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Close your eyes and give your body permission to relax.
Notice your breath.
Focus on your inhale and exhale.
With each breath, feel the tension in your body melt away.
Imagine your body sinking into a comfortable, familiar couch. The cushions have long since molded themselves to perfectly cradle you over years of lonely lounging. The texture of the couch’s fabric has faded into something that feels more like strings and fibers barely clinging together than something tightly woven. It’s on the verge of falling apart.
Take another slow breath. Feel the stillness of the air. It feels like a pair of hands around your nose and mouth, working all-too-slowly to suffocate you. You should really open a window, but that would risk letting him in. And you can’t do that. At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past hundred or so years. Besides, it’s comfortable here on this couch. Getting up to open the window might result in the fabric tearing.
Listen to the soft hum of static from the TV. Quiet, monotonous, and ever-present, it lulls you. Feel your senses dull even further as the static grows more noticeable. It’s not unpleasant, but you consider switching the channel. Actually, you could be sitting on the remote. But you wouldn’t be able to tell unless you stood up. And you’re too tired for that.
Come to think of it, you can’t remember the last time you moved at all. Your body has relaxed so fully and completely that you can’t tell what position your limbs are in without looking at them directly. Has it been hours? Days? Weeks? Maybe even months? It wouldn’t be the first time, especially since you’ve taken up your most recent name about 80 years ago. As much as you hate to admit it, your depression has taken a turn for the worse since your latest best friend died. You stopped trying to come up with modern names to suit the times. After 80 or so years, it may be time for a new one, but…
What was it again?
Suddenly, you notice a tiny chill on the side of your cheek. A singular tear has fallen.
With no one to call your name, you’ve forgotten it. What was the name before that? What name did you use for your third doctorate’s degree? What about the first? What did the NASA engineers put on your nametag when you first journeyed to reach the stars? What name did Galileo call when he ran out of paper or ink? What about the old merchants you used to frequent for herbs during the plague? What name did your drinking buddies cheer when you’d return home from a dangerous campaign? What name did King Arthur appoint to be one of his knights? What name did your spouse used to call you?
What name were you even born with?
You could probably open a history book and see many of your names printed underneath artists’ renditions of what they thought you to look like. Throughout nearly two millennia, no one has quite gotten it right. But then again, you’ve also forgotten what you look like. For all you know, any one of the portraits could be accurate.
But what hurts most about your life isn’t that you’ve forgotten your name. It’s not that you don’t know your face anymore. It’s not even that you don’t remember if you’ve been on this couch for hours or years.
You’re lonely. You have been for a long time. And that hurts more than any death you’ve narrowly evaded.
You allow the chill of your tears to seep into your skin. It’s the first time you’ve felt anything in a while. Take one more deep breath. If you must, let yourself gently weep on the exhale this time.
If it weren’t for that stupid bargain, you might have liked to be buried with your first spouse. But their bones have turned to ash, reclaimed by the earth in a place long forgotten by humanity. You’ve thought about laying down on top of the soil you buried them under. Just laying there, waiting for death to inch closer and closer. And right now, hearing nothing but static for perhaps the thousandth hour in a row, you want nothing more. Because now, in this moment, you realize that you’ve forgotten their name, too.
Those words that damned you all those years ago are the only things your cruel mind can’t seem to forget. You’ve lost everything else about yourself. But the curse remains as fresh in your mind as it did the first time you heard the words.
“You have chosen to live forever. With this, your one weakness will hunt you for eternity. Although at a snail’s pace, he will be unstoppable.”
You took that offer, envisioning a bright future. You wanted to achieve great things. You were granted the time to do so, and you did. But what now? Surely you could continue your work for another thousand years or so. All you would have to do is outrun your only weakness.
But oh, how you’re exhausted. You’re tired of achieving things. Tired of running. Tired of—
There’s a knock at the door.
Your heart jumps. It’s him. It has to be him . How did he escape your last encounter with him? You hired someone to tie him to an anchor. You watched him sink to the bottom of the ocean — you stayed until bubbles stopped flowing to the water’s surface. Or was that the time before…?
Three more polite knocks.
Craning your aching neck, your eyes fixate on the door. A silhouette can be seen through the tarnished window. A perfectly normal human shadow, except for two antennae on the top of his head. It really is him.
Against all reasoning, you find yourself turning your body onto its side to face the door. You slowly reach for a steady place to prop yourself up. Bones creak, muscles ache, but you still can’t stop yourself. Before you know it, you’ve stood up.
He doesn’t knock again, nor do you see his silhouette move. He knows you’re coming to him this time, and he’s waiting patiently.
Your legs feel heavy, almost melting into the floor as you take a step. Another step, and it feels a little more manageable. Your body seems to be moving on its own. Left and right, left and right, lighter and lighter. Until you reach the door.
Suddenly, you come to your senses.
What am I doing? I can’t let him in. If I do, I’ll all be over. Two thousand years of running will be over. Two thousand years of loved ones leaving you behind. Two thousand years of loneliness will finally end.
Fingers trembling, you turn the doorknob. As you open the door, your heartbeat quickens. Every memory of each near-death that should have killed you floods your mind. Likewise, each time you thought you had killed him haunts you in real-time. And he, same as always, wears a sad but knowing smile.
It’s finally you.
“May I come in?”
His voice is soft. It surprises you. You didn’t think he could talk. Then again, any time you saw him in the past, you tried to kill him before letting him speak.
You hesitate before answering. “Yes.” The word comes out as a hoarse whisper. You realize that, among many other parts of yourself, you had also forgotten the sound of your voice. You hadn’t thought of it before, but now you realize that it’s just another thing that inevitably comes with having no one to talk to for years. It’s a small but devastating blow to your soul.
He simply smiles. “Thank you.”
You direct him into your home. Each floorboard creaks under both of your steps. There are cobwebs in each corner of the room, dust everywhere, and your couch is strewn with old blankets. The stringy remnants of a hand-woven shawl your fifth partner made for you lays on top of them all.
“Sorry, it’s a mess,” you manage to say after clearing your throat. “I didn’t expect to see you… so soon.” Guilt racks your mind but you push the feeling aside. Moving the blankets on the couch, you gesture for him to sit next to you.
He does. He sits almost close enough to touch you. You half expect him to reach out, but he keeps his hands on his lap.
What are you waiting for? The anticipation makes your heart beat faster. The silence feels louder than the static in the background.
“Do you regret it?”
You glance down at the space between you two, where his right hand now rests. Not as a threat, but as an invitation. You can’t help but wonder if, during these years of running, he would have given you the choice to accept his touch back then. Did you have to be so cruel to him in the past? Was it necessary to try and kill him over and over? Has he always been this… gentle?
Your fingers twitch and you begin to move again, but you stop yourself. “It’s hard to say.”
His hand remains. “I’ve seen your achievements. You’ve done many wonderful things.”
Oh. Right . After all, that was indeed the reason you chose to accept the bargain in the first place.
“But I’ve lost…” The vague faces of people you can hardly remember torment you. “…So much.”
More silence. You can feel the tension growing and it becomes harder to stop yourself from setting your hand on top of his.
Suddenly, “I don’t regret my agreement.”
Looking up at him, you see that his face has inched closer to yours. You don’t shy away.
“You… had an agreement as well?” You had never thought of his side of the story. Before you can ask anything else, he continues.
“I’ve always been a curious soul. I was given the opportunity to broaden my knowledge in a way I never would have thought possible.” Then, he closes his eyes and recites, “ ‘You have chosen to experience human love. However, your soulmate will forever run from you, and you will be their undoing.’ ”
Soulmate? Human love? You find yourself leaning dangerously closer. “What are you saying?”
His eyes open slowly. A small grin subtly makes its way onto his face. The usual sadness behind his smile is nowhere to be found as he says, “I love you.”
Your breath hitches in your chest. How long has it been since you’ve heard those words? Decades? Centuries? It’s getting even harder to hold back. The urge to touch him, caress him, kiss him — it’s overwhelming.
He sighs, then whispers your name. Your true name. You’ve heard your name before, but from his lips, it sounds like the rediscovered melody of a song you had forgotten. “I’ve loved you since the day I first met you. Since you first ran from me. Every time you’ve pushed me away. I’ve loved you all this time.”
Slowly, he brings his other hand to your cheek, stopping an inch away. Another invitation. Your heart skips a beat and you hear something tear. You had been gripping the couch so tight that you’ve accidentally torn a bit of the already weakened fabric.
Something within you snaps. With teary eyes, you lean your head against his palm. Although his touch is slightly cold, you feel an uncontrollable warmth swell up within your chest. Your fingers intertwine with his against the couch between you.
You don’t have to be lonely anymore.
“In that case,” you begin, watching his expression soften, “I don’t regret it.”
He gasps quietly as you press your lips to his. The dim light of the flickering TV is just barely enough to see tears well up in the corners of his closed eyes. They glisten as they fall down his cheeks. His hand on your face creeps around to the back of your neck and gently pulls you closer.
In an attempt to deepen the kiss, you open your mouth slightly and wrap your arms around his neck and torso. But he whimpers a little and turns his head.
He stutters, “If— if we go any further, I’ll—“
“I know,” you interrupt. Placing a tiny kiss on his forehead, you watch his expression carefully. “Let me die, then. I’ve been ready for a long… long time.”
You wait for his response before you make any more moves. To your delight, his worry melts into a beautiful, bright smile. He breathes your name again, and the warmth in your chest spreads throughout your entire body.
You kiss him once more, softly on his mouth. He reciprocates, holding you tenderly, cradling your head with a gentleness you’ve never felt before.
The end is near. You’ve dreamed of it, fantasized, even. But you couldn’t have predicted that it would come like this. Parting your lips and deepening the kiss, you can feel it, too. The effect is immediate. The strength in your limbs fades, but you hold onto what you can of him. Grasping at his body, the background static dulls as his needy, breathy moans fill your ears. All the while, his poison continues to seep from his tongue to yours. And God, you never imagined death could taste so sweet.
His breath quickens with each caress. The more you taste of him, the more you detach. Senses dull, muscles weaken, and your heart slows its pace. You’re dying. You’re really dying. At the same time, this is the most alive you’ve felt since– well, perhaps in your entire life.
In your last moments, you can taste a mixture of his sweet poison and salty tears. It lingers on your tongue. He breaks the kiss right before finishing, laying your head on his chest instead. He says something, but you can no longer hear him. Perhaps he whispered your name one more time. Maybe it was another declaration of his love for you. Whatever it was, you’ll never know for sure.
But in that moment, you are happy. Thousands of years of loss, centuries of loneliness, decades of longing for death – it was all worth it to die in the arms of someone that remembered you through it all. The one person who never forgot you, even if you forgot yourself.
Your immortal snail.