Chapter 1 Episode 1

The pact was set. In 1 year exactly the clock will strike 12:00 AM and i will drop dead. That was what they had said approximately 3.5 years ago, yet my heart still beats and i still breath, Unfortunately. I, Fran Duvet am what is identified as “immortal” to most but really nothing happened in particular to make me this way, i was not bitten by a vampire, not turned by a werewolf, not eaten by a zombie, i was just born this way. My parents are normal people as far as i know unless they are faking it but i highly doubt people named ‘Bill’ and ‘Mary’ are immortal people with power.

The reason behind the pact was that i was sick of being immortal; people drop dead left and right and I’m just..here. Im not sad, no, i’m long past that stage. What i am is upset, i want to be normal, i want to not be faced with the fact any friends i ever make will die anyways so there is no point in trying, i want to go to the doctor and not have them look at my x-rays and exclaim “you’re so healthy! You’ll live to a nice old age alright!”, when all i want more than anything is to die. Now currently sitting at the kitchen table of my tiny apartment, 12:03 AM. I checked my pulse knowing the answer to the question i hadn’t even asked myself yet; another year i realize I probably wasted 154$ on something that would never happen but i guess money didn’t matter since i could rob a bank, escape, fake my death and lay low for 40 years just for me to repeat the cycle all over again, of course i wouldn’t. i might not have much but you would have to pry my morals out of my cold, alive, hands.

Thinking back to when i made the pact…. I regret my rash decision affected by my emotional state but part of me still hopes every year i wont see the next, i stood from the chair id been half-eagerly sat in, i will not indulge in reminiscing about a memory unworthy of remembering. I refuse. Instead i grab my coat, what i can indulge in is some food, I’m starving, while i cant die i can feel pain and hunger all the same so i prefer to not skip my meals. With that i step out into the fresh coldness of the night and make my way to my favorite pub, Dyres (die-reez).

The walk there is pretty short (815 steps) so this is a place I’ve frequented, i like it, I’m a regular and this place has, in-fact,been around for 100 years like the slogan states. I walk in they are cleaning bar tops while regulars are playing pool, chatting, and debating odd things like who’s better, spider-man or dead pool. I forgot to mention, this bar is inhabited by immortals and humans alike, the bar makes it painstakingly clear of that every where you look which is cool i guess, any humans that come in here are usually chill but sometimes some drunk homeless dudes come in spouting random stuff about Jesus and sin then get escorted out. I said a brief hello to some of the other regulars and sat on a stool lined up with the counter top. “Fran! Nice to see you, not dead yet i see.” The woman took a glance at her watch and then back up at Fran “no, not this year miss Ramona.” I said in a tired, flat tone and gave her my usual drink order: Aperol Spritz on the rocks.