Chapter 01
The Deal
The last rays of the sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. On the deserted beach, the rhythmic sound of the waves was a stark contrast to the harsh, ragged breathing of Adom Sylla. He lay there, a fragile, trembling figure, his body drenched in sweat. Each breath was a battle, a painful rasp that ended in a fit of coughing, splattering blood onto the sand beside him.
Adom’s legs lay twisted in unnatural angles beneath him - both broken. It was the 103rd time his bones had betrayed him, a cruel reminder of his body's fragility. Despite the searing pain that engulfed him, a faint smile flickered across his pale lips. It had been a decade since he had last experienced the agony of both legs fracturing simultaneously. The irony of it happening just as he had mustered the courage to walk into the sea – to end it all – was not lost on him.
His eyes, sunken, scanned the vastness of the ocean. The twilight sky mirrored the tumultuous mix of emotions swirling within him - hope, despair, and an unfulfilled longing. As the cool breeze brushed over his sweat-soaked forehead, Adom contemplated the life he had led. A life mostly confined to the four walls of his room, his only escape the countless books he devoured, living vicariously through the adventures and tales within their pages.
Each cough wracked his body, a stark reminder of his mortality. The pain was a constant companion, gnawing at him, yet it was the solitude that gnashed at his soul. Adom's mind wandered to his peers, those who had grown up alongside him, now legends in their own rights. His school crushes, bullies, even the few friends he had, had all moved on to lead lives of significance. Meanwhile, Adom remained a prisoner in his own body, his brilliance overshadowed by his physical ailments.
The salty air filled his lungs, each breath one of of pain and relief. He felt the damp sand beneath him, coarse and oddly comforting. As the sky darkened, the first stars began to appear, twinkling indifferently to his plight. It was in this moment of solitude, surrounded by the vastness of nature, that Adom felt a profound connection to the world beyond his physical limitations.
But as the pain intensified, a tear escaped his eye, tracing a path down his cheek. In this twilight, between the day and night, life and death, Adom found himself at a crossroads. The desire to fight for life, to experience what he had always been denied, wrestled with the temptation to let the waves take him away from his suffering.
It was here, at the brink of his existence, that Adom whispered his final curse against the cruel hand of fate that had dealt him this life. His voice, barely a hoarse whisper, was lost in the sound of the waves. Yet, it carried the weight of his pain, his longing, and his unyielding spirit – a plea to the universe for a chance to live the life he had always dreamed of.
Adom's voice, raspy and weak, broke the silence of the dusk. "Sixty-five years," he murmured to himself, his words a blend of wonder and bitterness. "Sixty-five years of just... surviving." He weighed no more than a child, his body a testament to the relentless grip of his illness.
His thoughts drifted to his parents, imagining them somewhere in the sky, if there was indeed an afterlife. A surge of longing washed over him, wishing to join them, to be free of his earthly shackles. His heart ached with the memory of their faces, now distant and blurred.
Uncle Ben's image came next, the man who had become his guardian in the absence of his parents. "Uncle Ben... I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice laced with guilt. The thought of disappointing the only person who had cared for him brought a fresh wave of pain, different from the physical torment he endured. Ben had always told him to live on, despite everything.
School memories flickered through his mind like old film reels. Mia, his school crush, her face still clear in his mind. He remembered how she once stood up for him against Damus, the bully who ironically became a celebrated hero. "Fate has a cruel sense of humor," he chuckled painfully.
Then came the memories of Sam, his childhood friend. Their friendship had been a source of comfort, but as they grew older, a gap widened between them. For the first time, Adom considered that maybe he was to blame for their estrangement. The realization brought a sad, introspective laugh. "Always the victim, huh, Adom?" he chided himself.
As he gazed at the horizon, his life replayed in his mind – a cascade of mostly regrets and unfulfilled dreams. His career as a sorcerer, which held so much promise, had been cut short by his relentless illness. A sense of injustice welled up in him.
Anger bubbled to the surface, raw and unfiltered. "Why me?" he screamed into the void, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Why was I dealt such a hand?" His words were swallowed by the sound of the waves, indifferent to his suffering.
As Adom dragged his broken body across the sand, a peculiar sight caught his eye: a crab, nonchalantly scuttling by. Despite the grim scene, his thoughts veered unexpectedly. "Crab, really? Now?" he muttered, bemused by the irony. The memory of a decadent crab feast years ago flickered in his mind, a culinary highlight in his otherwise bleak existence. There he was, a man broken in more ways than one, contemplating his end, yet sidetracked by the thought of tender crab meat soaked in a rich, golden butter sauce, infused with a hint of garlic and a whisper of lemon zest. "Talk about priorities," he whispered, a forced smirk twisting his lips as the crab continued on its way, indifferent to human woes.
He cursed life for its mercilessness, the world for its indifference, and death for its cruel delay. "305 times... 305 damn near-death experiences!" he shouted, each word punctuated by a cough. "Why won't you just take me?" His voice broke, tears mingling with the blood on his lips.
In his anguish, Adom felt like a pawn in a twisted game played by fate. He was tired of being the plaything of forces beyond his control, tired of the endless cycle of pain and despair. His cries echoed into the twilight, a raw outpouring of a life defined by suffering and the longing for release.
As Adom's cries of anguish dissolved into the twilight, a figure appeared on the periphery of his blurred vision. Startled, he ceased his tirade and focused on the silhouette approaching him. She was the embodiment of beauty unlike any he had seen before. Her hair, black and smooth, danced in the gentle wind as if alive, catching the last rays of the setting sun.
Her skin glowed with an almond radiance, perfectly complemented by the dusky hues of the twilight. But it was her eyes that captivated him the most – deep golden, exuding an aura of mystery and depth. Towering above him, she was the tallest woman he had ever seen, perhaps the tallest person. A smile played on her dark, plump lips as she approached him.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked, her voice a melodic contrast to the rhythm of the waves.
Embarrassment flushed Adom's face, a rare feeling that momentarily overshadowed his pain. He realized he had been staring, lost in the presence of this enigmatic woman. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He made an instinctive, futile attempt to stand, to walk away from this unexpected encounter.
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The sharp reminder of his broken legs halted him, and a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "Aah, fuck me..." he muttered under his breath. Resorting to crawling, he began to drag himself away, each movement a symphony of agony.
The woman watched him with an unfathomable expression, her smile never wavering. There was something in her gaze that transcended mere curiosity – an ancient knowledge, a depth that spoke of centuries, maybe eons. She seemed more a figment of his pain-addled mind than a real person.
Yet, there she stood, a surreal figure against the backdrop of the dying day, her presence a stark contrast to his broken form, ramping across the sand in desperation and defeat. The juxtaposition of their beings – her ethereal grace and his shattered body – painted a poignant picture under the twilight sky.
Despite the excruciating pain, Adom's attempt to crawl away in the presence of this mesmerizing woman bordered on the comical. His movements were awkward, his expression one of pain and embarrassment.
"Excuse me, please stay for a bit," the woman said, her voice tinged with amusement.
Adom, grunting with effort, tried to brush her off. "Just taking a stroll," he said with a wry smile, wincing as he spoke. "Had a little accident."
"Little?" she echoed, a playful note in her voice. "Your legs are broken."
He let out a resigned sigh. "Happens more often than you'd think. I'm used to it." The absurdity of his situation was not lost on him.
To his surprise, she chuckled. "You truly are special, Adom Sylla."
His crawling ceased, and he turned to look at her, eyes wide with shock. "You know me?"
"Yes," she replied, her golden eyes sparkling. "Your face is hard to forget. So handsome."
A blush crept across Adom's bearded cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation. It was the first time a woman had ever complimented him, and at such a bizarre moment. Yet, a flicker of anger sparked within him. Was she mocking him? But before he could dwell on it, he blurted out, "You're telling me I get a compliment now? Where have you been all my life, lady? You gotta be kidding me."
Her laughter rang out, clear and melodious, even in the face of his frustration. Adom couldn't help but consider the possibility that she might be a figment of his imagination, a hallucination born from his pain and imminent death.
"I could tell you two things," she said, her voice calm and measured. "First, maybe if you had spent meaningful time with people around you, instead of blaming the world for your condition, you would've received compliments much sooner."
Adom was speechless, stunned by her words. How could she know him? Did he know her? Before he could formulate a response, she continued.
"Second, I have always been there. You and I have met quite often, though we never really got acquainted. 305 times, to be exact."
The realization dawned on Adom slowly, and he looked at her in disbelief and resignation. "Aah, shit. You gotta be kidding me," he laughed, a laugh that was both bitter and incredulous. "I've finally gone mad. That's just perfect."
As Adom's laughter subsided, he noticed the woman had silently moved to sit beside him. The transition was seamless, almost supernatural. She sat there, her sympathetic eyes locked onto his, as the remnants of his laughter died in the cool evening air.
"Sorry," he said, his tone shifting to seriousness. "Hey, are you... real?" He gazed intently at her, searching for some sign of her tangibility.
Her smile didn't waver. "As real as the pain you feel," she replied softly, her voice a comforting melody amidst the sounds of the sea.
Adom studied her, taking in her surreal beauty and the aura of mystery that enveloped her. "You're not human, are you?" he asked, a hint of awe in his voice. "You're not of any race I've ever encountered, I think."
She leaned back, her hand supporting her as she looked at him, her face aglow in the last light of the day. "No, I am not," she confirmed. "You figured that out pretty quickly, huh?"
"Well, I'm quite smart, so it's normal," Adom quipped, a trace of his old humor surfacing.
"As arrogant as ever, are we?" she teased, her golden eyes twinkling.
He chuckled again, then turned his gaze to the sea and the horizon, where the sun hung large and red. The fresh air carried the faint smell of salt, stirring memories of his father teaching him to swim here, in the days before his cursed illness worsened. A wave of nostalgia washed over him.
After a brief silence, Adom spoke again, his voice softer. "I didn't think I'd go out like this. It's... peaceful."
"The very last moment sometimes is," she said, her voice laced with an understanding that seemed to transcend time, "despite everything."
He sighed, a mix of acceptance and resignation in his breath. "I spent my whole life fighting, you know? Fighting this body, fighting fate. And now, here, I don't feel like fighting anymore." His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a perfect line.
"It's funny," he continued, a bittersweet smile touching his lips. "I always thought I'd die in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines, potions and medicines. But here I am, at the very place where I felt most alive, once upon a time. It's like coming full circle." His voice trailed off, lost in the vastness of the ocean and the sky.
The woman watched him silently, her presence a comforting solidity amidst his reflections. In her eyes, there was a depth of understanding, as if she had witnessed a thousand lifetimes of joy and sorrow, beginnings and ends. And in this moment, she was here with Adom, at the twilight of his journey, a witness to his final chapter.
"Well, it doesn't have to end this way, you know?" the woman said, her voice a soft murmur against the sounds of the sea. "If you have so many regrets, why don't you try again, with a better start?"
Adom chuckled weakly. "Still playing games with me, even now, huh? Why are you here, in this form? Is this your true form?"
"Of course not," she replied with a gentle smile. "You see me as you want to; everyone does. For someone who hates his life so much, I guess me looking like this to you makes sense."
"Yeah..." Adom sighed. "Well, let's get done with it, shall we?"
"Why are you in such a hurry, Adom?" she asked. "Why do you never take time to savor the moment?"
"How could I?" he retorted. "Every movement is painful. My life's a mess despite all my efforts to make it better."
"You sound like an old immortal, tired of life," she chuckled. "As if you've seen all that life has to offer when all you did was sulk."
Adom felt a flare of anger. "Lady, I was starting to feel a bit better, you know? Why are you ruining the mood? I don't need to be immortal to see life. I've seen plenty enough of it, too much, even. Plus, what's the point of clinging to a life so painful and hopeless if it's all going to end the same? Immortality is a myth. Everyone dies one day. I just want to go now."
"Hmm," she mused, looking at him thoughtfully. "These aren't your true feelings. And how can you say that when I'm right in front of you?"
"Heh, you don't count. You're not even—"
She interrupted him with a fond gaze. "Say, Adom, what if we make a deal?"
"A deal?" he asked, skepticism lacing his voice.
"I won't take you now, or ever, unless you truly wish for it," she proposed. "And I will give you another chance, a better start. You could do the things you wished for, become who you dreamed to be."
Thinking it all a bad joke, Adom played along. "Haha, and what do I have to give for that?"
"Nothing really," she said. "Just let me know when you truly get tired of it. Then, I will take you."
She extended her hand for a handshake. Adom, still dumbfounded and half-believing it to be a dream, shook her hand. "Deal."
She smiled at him warmly. As the last rays of the sun disappeared, so did she, vanishing as if she had never been there at all.
Adom lay there on the beach, calling out half-jokingly, "Hey, you could've at least taken me back home! I'm handicapped, you know?!" His chuckle echoed into the night. He slowly drifted into a peaceful sleep, thinking this was the strangest dream ever before his eyes closed, surrendering to the calm embrace of the twilight sea.
*****
As what felt like ice cold water splashed onto Adom, it jolted him awake from his serene slumber. Startled and enraged, he gasped, "What the hell is going on?! Who the hell did that?"
His vision, blurry for some reason, gradually focused a bit, and a familiar face emerged from the haze. "Huh? W-what the—Damus? Is that you?" Adom stammered, disbelief lacing his voice.
The figure before him was unmistakable – Damus, the bully from his school days, now standing as a young student. Damus looked at him with a mix of confusion and irritation. "Damn, I think I might have reset that bastard. When did you start shouting at me? And when did you address me by my name, you little shit?"
Adom's shock deepened as he looked around. He was in his second-year classroom, exactly as he remembered it from decades ago, down to the minutest details he had forgotten. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible. "What the fu—".