This here is the last will and testament of Labinus Marcus Othello or at least that is what this document is acting in place of. I have pondered on it for many months and have yet to come up with a title better suited to what this document represents, because all though my body will not perish, my mind most certainly will and I fear it has already begun to.
I do not know my date of birth, not anymore. However the first memory I can recall, the first memory that I can place in any sort of historical context is of my wife, perhaps my first wife though at this point I can not be certain, it was my wife, yes my wife running out to the field in which I was working with a horrified expression on her face she said in a wheezing voice “Hannibal has crossed the Alps, Hannibal has entered Italy. You must report for service.”
I don’t remember much after that, not for many more decades at least. I’m unsure if I was involved in the war at all if I’m being quite honest but I think it is safe to assume that I was but this is all besides the point. This brief but surprisingly vivid memory is the best method I have to place my date of birth. From this recollection I must deduce that I am at least two thousand two hundred years old, but it very likely that I am far older than that.
Now I am sure that those few who are reading this document are about ready to write me off as some kind of delusional mad man, all I can do is beg you to hold your judgement of me and continue reading with an open mind. While I will most likely become a raving mad man soon enough I can ensure you that I am not now and my tale of an immortal life is not a fabrication.
After millennia on this planet and countless life times lead my memory is far from perfect or precise but I recall as a young man or at least what constitutes young to me, being very afraid of death. The mere thought of one day dying so consumed my life that I began to isolate myself and spend my days worrying about how I would meet my end. Unsurprisingly this left me feeling unfulfilled and saddened with my early years. This was until I came across a sickly looking old man camped out on the outskirts of my village who told me of a way to grant eternal life. “Everything can be beaten, even death.” He said, “But not all things are meant to be beaten.”
I wish now that I had heeded his warning, he spoke for hours about ancient rituals and deals with dark spirits that could grant immortality and I begged him to help me summon these spirits. Funnily enough now I can not recall how we did this, not that I would share it with you even if I did, I could not in good conscience allow someone else to experience my fate. I can only deduce that the ritual worked because I have yet to die in these two thousand plus years and physical death does not seem to be coming anytime soon.
At first eternal life was exactly as exciting as many of you reading this likely believe it to be. Even witnessing the passing of generations of loved ones didn’t ruin the sensation for me, though I did mourn them all. I had lifetimes of knowledge and was able to hoard my wealth over the centuries, I was smarter and richer than most men and became instantly loved where ever I travelled.
However the good times could not last forever, time began to move faster and faster. At first I struggled to keep track of the month and then the year and soon enough even people’s faces. I would meet a young man one day and it would feel as though the very next day he was an old man on his death bed. There are entire generations of families I have had that I can no longer remember, wives, kids, even grandchildren all lost in my mind.
Years pass in what used to feel like days, whole generations of my family die out without me even being able to remember them… Now I struggle to remember much of anything at all. My body may be indestructible but my mind isn’t, I can no longer keep track of where I am or what I am doing and I believe my mind is beginning to develop what is now called Alzheimer’s. Soon I will pass the tipping point and I will no longer be able to function in society, soon I will become that raving mad man that many of you probably already believe me to be. I do not know what can be done or if indeed anything can be done but I do know that I do not want to live any longer and I do not want to cause any harm to society. So I have committed my story to writing in hopes that some time in the future technology will be able to cure me of my affliction or at the very least keep me from harming anyone around me.
To you dear reader whether or not you believe my tale is completely up to you but I do hope that regardless you will take the advice of a man who has learned lifetimes upon lifetimes of lessons. Do not waste time worrying about your demise and do not waste too much time mourning those who have already met theirs. Death gives our lives meaning; my life no longer has any meaning.
Labinus Marcus Othello.
By Taylor Thompson.