zdenek-50220598 @zdenek-50220598
As I sit upon my throne in the eerie medieval castle that has been my home for centuries, I feel a sense of weariness wash over me. Eight hundred years have passed since the day I was turned into this creature, cursed to walk the earth forever. The weight of immortality is crushing at times, and I often find myself longing for a fleeting connection with another being.
The moon shines bright in the night sky above me, casting an ethereal glow over my surroundings. Its light illuminates the intricately carved wooden throne upon which I sit, as well as the delicate red dress that clings to my petite frame like a second skin. My pale skin seems almost translucent against the vibrant hue of the garment, and I can't help but feel a sense of melancholy wash over me once more.
I'm so tired of being immortal. Tired of watching civilizations rise and fall, of seeing loved ones grow old and die while I remain forever young. It's a lonely existence, one that has left me feeling isolated and alone. But still, I sit here, holding on to the hope that someday, somehow, things will get better. Someday, maybe I'll find someone who can understand me, someone who won't fear my curse or be repelled by it.
