Horror / Stoney

My name is Stony. And I am an immortal. One of the last of my kind. Only a few males are left of us,.as far as I know.
We are scattered over the world. Most of us become paranoid and secretive.
The Stone People can slip into a solidity that resembles Stone for long periods of time if  they become bored or are hunted by a relentless foe, like a clan of vampires…as has happened..
Immortal? Well, not really. I guess one can’t claim to be an immortal if one can be killed.
And if we are caught unawares before we can solidify, and our head leaves our body, we will be just as dead as if we were 40 when it happened.
Contrary to what is common belief, a 1000 yr life span doesn’t give you 1000 years of memories.
Most of them slide into the dust bin of the ages. The mind holds flash backs, dim recollections. But only when
viewing pix or old landmarks , or handling antiques, or seeing a certain type of face or physique…this color of hair with that color of eye, and that turn of expression, do some of the old memories pop up. You’d be surprised how often the same face and mannerisms are repeated over time. I have seen a certain blonde type with green eyes in different countries in different centuries several times.. at first, I would have sworn it was the same woman. The third time it happened I was convinced that it was the same person and that she was an immortal… I was so excited. I thought I had found a soul mate. Someone who could survive down through the centuries with me.
Imagine my disappointment when I discovered she was just an arch-type. And not a very interesting one at that.
Ah well… but the other side of the coin is that if some one that uninteresting were immortal and your life mate…. well, you get the pix. :o)
I’ve found that only those memories of the last100-150 yrs have any sense of realness.
Some of the books I’ve read, plays I’ve seen – and now .movies, seem realer to me than a lot of the old memories that occasionally pop up.
And now, at 756, I’m not sure which are real and which are memorex, as I like to call recalled plays and books..
For years I kept things in storage and would take them out from time to time and handle them, bringing back a flood of old memories.
Then one day I realized that the real memories were no more satisfying than the memorex. I realized that I might as well create the memories in the form in which gave me the most satisfaction. So the battle in which I killed two men and survived, became the battle in which I swooped down upon the enemy with the jawbone of an ass and killed ten thousand of them. Might as well be a super hero if you’re going to recreate your history. :o)
Don’t give me that expression! Hell, you mortal humans have been doing it forever. The victor gets to re-write history in his favor. And then, to ensuing generations, it is real. Instant history.
Actually I’ve become so good at it, that even I don’t remember what is fact and what is fiction. And really, does it matter? Besides, I rather enjoy being a super hero.
Occasionally, however, reality brings me unwelcome news. The other day I was sauntering down the ave, strutting just a little, receiving the occasional admiring glance, watching the throngs of people and enjoying my anonymous status of super hero when a passing car back fired right next to me, and the next thing I knew I was peeling myself off the sidewalk to which I had ignominiously dived for cover.
One of the downsides of having instant reflexes. :o)
Mixed with my injured pride was the disgust of having to buy new clothes because the suit I was wearing was shredded from the force with which I had hurled myself out of harms way. Toes of the shoes nearly gone from my nose dive slide.
One of the down sides of having 756 years worth of muscle development.
One of the up sides is that I no longer have to exercise. Muscle has memory. Live long enough and you acquire the
strength of a bull gorilla. There is a limit of course.. Tendons and ligaments are still flesh and blood, after all.   Just thicker and stronger than the average person.. ‘Mighty Thews’ was the expression they used in the old days.
Reflexes, however, just keep getting better. Often embarrassingly so. As in the case of my side walk face slide.
Nothing like a vampire, of course. Those bastards are really fast. Something to do with the undead status, I guess.
Thanks but no thanks.. At least I can walk around in the daytime and not have to take a dive in the dirt every morning.
They’re not to crazy about it either, from the few I have had any long talks with. Conversations with vampires have a habit of turning violent suddenly and without discernable reasons. Those bastards are truly nuts. They give double digit meaning to the term, ‘paranoid.’ Make a wrong move and they’re smoke. Or you are.
They are very prone to over reacting to large arm movements. And don’t smile at them. They consider it a threat display.
At my age, I am pretty much immune to their teeth, as I can turn solid faster than they can move. Which is pretty damn quick. They have learned after breaking more than a few fangs on my neck that it is just about as painful as trying to strike me with their bare hands. They heal fast, but it is still painful to them.
So we have learned to live and let live.
With a few exceptions. There is an old one I have been hunting for years.
Something about a young human friend of mine whose blood he had drained. Not that he needed it. Old vampires can go for over a yr without blood if they are not too active. But I had killed one of his relatives and because of his position in the clans, he had to retaliate. Sent me her finger in the mail. Inviting me to meet him at a certain time and place if I wanted her back.
Hell, I knew better than that. Pulling ones finger off results in blood. One that old would never stop there. The blood of a young virgin contains too much power to pass up…
Business of the clan is one thing. Virgin blood is quite another thing indeed!
She was already dead.
I sat afar off with some of the new military night glasses and carefully noted who was present at the rondevoux at which I never showed up.. I wouldn’t forget them.
  To be continued.