The creature of a thousand years could not die, could not escape its torturous life, painfully accepting each day without the nearing of a peaceful, eternal repose, where want does not eat away at its very core, where the cowardice of others fails to infringe upon its distant contentment.

Done, done. The creature would only mutter this to itself, “Done. I am done, but here I linger, forevermore. Wanting nothing more from this earth yet lingering like a stillborn in a maternal, darkened abyss.

One more day. I cannot stand another day, a single moment. Yet here, I am cursed to wither away, like a gradual abatement of the waves upon the shore. Surely and fearfully this cursed life keeps me bound. Unwilling am I to stay.

Never shall I leave this wretched world, a ghost damned to endure a hell on earth, beneath the stars where a mocking heaven tempts me endlessly day by day but where hell has captured me in its merciless grip."

Enduring a thousand years more, without the comfort of death close by, the creature woefully paced the earth, fearing every oncoming moment in its lifeless, hopeless existence.

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