Someone once told me that the more things change, the more they stay the same. It had always felt for me that the more time passed, the more everything stayed the same. That’s what brought me to the bridge just before dawn. I stood on the outer edge, looking down at the water and then to the horizon. I knew in my heart what I wanted to do but knew not if I had the conviction.

I never wished that I would never die, I just wished the ones I loved weren’t taken from me by time or the wrath of men. There’s a limit to how much and how often one can rebuild and start over. There comes a point where starting over takes too much effort. You don’t want the train to chug forever down the track and would rather rip up the track than see it go on another mile.

Slipping the rope off my shoulder, I tied one end around the railing of the bridge, a sailor’s knot I had learned a long time ago. Picking up the other end, I looked at the noose. Of all the ways men had devised to kill themselves, the noose was my favorite. It could be immediate but often wasn’t. What made it effective was not being to take it back once begun.

The night was fading. My eyes flicked up to the horizon. The sun was beginning to peek over the landscape. I had to hurry. Placing the noose around my neck brought a flash of memories, a woman standing in a carriage wishing me well as I marched off with my musket. A man congratulating me on the large sum I won from him before The Crash.

I looked at the last memory through watery eyes, a woman, skewered by a shaft of ash. Blood trickling from her pleading mouth while I ran. I bit my lip, choking back the emotions. My fangs made blood pool on my lower lip.

The problem with time is that I felt I had had too much of it. Centuries of watching loved ones die, those that were like me and others that were just as dear. I had to break the cycle of eternity and finally be at peace. My skin began to hurt, probably like a sunburn from before this curse. Being alive for so long, I truly don’t remember.

The higher the sun rose, the more my skin irritated and turned red. Instinctively, I thought about slipping the noose and running off, finding somewhere dark to wait out the day. My fingers wrapped stubbornly around the railing at my back. No, there would be no running this time. The fall should break my neck, at least then I wouldn’t have to feel my skin burn off and me as ash and bone, falling into the river below.

My skin burned. If I waited much longer, I would lose my nerve. The sun reflected in the water below. Without thinking, I jumped off the bridge, into the bright light of my own oblivion. There was a loud crack, then nothing.