The 200th Birthday

This is a short story.

It was her 200th birthday. Certainly a long life. She was ready to move on, always has been. But her face still shone. The world changed but she did not. Faces disappeared in time. To commemorate this number, she decided to write a letter to each person who touched her long life. As she began she realized she didn't remember who was first nor who was last. The last person to touch her life was long gone. The pen swirled through her fingers but that was all it did. Not a single dot on the page. She sighed and gave up. She poured some water in a small bowl and washed her face. Then she looked outside. The grey sky was always there and still would be. The empty buildings across the street reminded her of a childhood long gone from her memories. All she could recall was her mother's laughter.

Would he still be alive? Was he just like her? She hoped not. For a mother can't wish loneliness to their children. Better a long life well lived and a quick peaceful dead. But still, in the silence of the city she might see him. For only someone like her would still be around. The sky flashed. Another one was coming. She took her coat and went outside. It was a habit, the coat, that is. Maybe today was the day. Maybe this time it would come to pass.

The ground began to shake. A weak building in the distance turned to dust. Jealousy. Another big flash covered the sky, but this time it was gradual, like a white blanket falling over land and sea. She felt her skin burn as if being devoured by tiny particles. She screamed in pain and covered her head with her crimson arms. The moment passed. The blood sealed away by her new skin. She sighed again and walked back inside. She sat by the grey corner of the small room and cried.


she writes