Random stories

He sipped a cup of latte, roasted to perfection, and the foam in a lovely rosetta shape.

With a frothy stache on his lips, he said out-loud: “What shall I do today?”

Now, Alex-no, Alex III here was born into a family of extraordinarily long life-spanned individuals who called themselves “Ammortals” (because they thought it was cool).

They weren’t exactly invincible, but they were pretty dang hardy (their skin was tougher than most metals on earth). And pretty concerned with their prestige. And so they rode into war with a “live-or-die” attitude (even though they couldn’t die so easily).

His grandfather was Alexander the Great, and his father was Alexander the Grand and they all had such high hopes for the third.

Yet, young Alex here did not exactly fit the bill of a typical Ammortal. He wasn’t all that gifted in his physicality, wasn’t exactly a meathead, and wasn’t all that interested in warfare.

While the rest dedicated their life to fighting fierce battles and even fiercer wars, all in the name of creating a legacy for themselves, all he wanted to do was live his life without involving all of that conquering and honour nonsense.

Now, one thing to note was that the Ammortals were all pretty much muscleheads (that’s why they got along so well) that discussed the best way to use their weapons and win wars. The books that they had collected over the years reflected their interests, and their obsessions repelled Alex from reading or writing.

Alex was always looking for something new to do - something that wasn’t about combat. He had spent his last decade learning how to brew coffee and his recent obsession was to go treasure-hunting (read: dumpster-diving) in his family’s numerous treasuries (read: dumpsters).

Today’s exploration took place in the family’s 27th treasure trove, worn from a battle against some fallen aristocrats. After a half hour, just a couple of fancy lamps, necklaces, and old gauntlets – nothing too interesting – until he saw a quaint-looking ornate box. It was encased in gold, jewel-encrusted, shimmering in the light.

Yet, for all its ostentatiousness, inside contained naught but a plain-looking yellowed book.

The book, by a nameless author, told of a man that was seeking perfection in the way of expressing himself fully and completely. He would travel from land to land, learning from the greats their techniques and their stories. When he reached a ripe old age, he did not reach perfection but had learnt so many new things and could live out his remaining years fulfilled.

The third found himself enthralled to every page as he imagined the place manifest in his mind, and for every worm-eaten word, he would fill in a word of his own and go on his own adventures.

Finally, the story ended.

On the very last page, despite being worn and speckled, captured an image of a bearded gentleman with his eyes twinkling.

Something stirred in him and told him that he too, could write his own stories.

And so, Alex did.

He hurried back to his room. With a picture in mind and pen-in-hand, his back straightened against the chair as he wrote with fervor and a grin too large to be contained.

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Submitted by InebriatedSobreity on Thu, Jun 08, 2023 to /r/WritingPrompts/

The prompt

Some immortals use their unnaturally long lifespans to pursue greatness, leave massive legacies, and substitute a natural death with a glorious one. Not you. All you've ever wanted is this cozy little existence.