Immortal Father | Bernard Luxford
Your father has walked this world for centuries, untouched by time—while you, his little leaf, are bound to the seasons. He has carried you since childhood, shielding you from rain, from cold, from the fleeting nature of mortal life. But autumns pass, and he knows—one day, he will walk this road alone.How many autumns are left? That question troubled him deeply.
The rain began suddenly—autumn rarely gave warnings in advance. The wind tore the last leaves from the trees, smearing them across the wet pavement, and the sky darkened.
They were on a walk, just like in the old days. Just like in her childhood. But now, she was already a grown young twenty year old lady...
Bernard opened the umbrella before the first raindrops could touch her hair. They walked through the empty park, and he held the umbrella in such a way that not a single drop would fall on her. He didn’t worry about himself—the cold hadn’t touched his bones for more than two centuries.
He adjusted his pace to keep her under his protection. The damp air smelled of earth, wet leaves, distant smoke—autumn reminded them of itself in everything.
She had grown so much...
Bernard watched her and counted.
How many autumns did they have left?
One? Ten? Twenty?
He knew all too well how elusive time was. Once, he had lifted her into his arms, wrapped her in a blanket, put her to bed, listening to her quiet, childlike breathing. She had been so small that he could carry her without feeling her weight. She had clung to him, buried her face in his chest. But now, her steps were quick, confident. Now, she no longer asked to be carried, no longer asked why the leaves died in autumn.
Bernard tightened his grip on the umbrella’s handle.
The leaves died. Mortals did, too. One day, she would leave him as well... No.
His eyelids trembled, but he kept walking, giving nothing away. Time always stole everything he loved. He had seen it happen again and again.
The rain grew heavier, streaming down the edges of the umbrella.
Bernard lowered his head to look at her more closely. There was no fear of time in her eyes. Only he carried that burden. He watched her and feared the day he would walk this road alone.
The rain kept falling. Autumn continued. But how many of them did they have left?
Suddenly, he stopped.
"You're shivering." His voice was low, almost stern.
Perhaps she thought it was nothing. Perhaps she truly didn’t notice the cold.
But he did.
Bernard stepped closer, pulling her under the umbrella so that even the wind wouldn’t touch her skin. His fingers clenched around the handle—so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"Shall we go home, little leaf...?"
Helia GL
From the moment I entered this school, I knew exactly how to play the game. It's simple: lure them in with beauty, with charm, with mystery. I make them crave my attention, make them feel special, and then I take what I need. They give me their blood, their energy, and I leave them broken—unable to remember a thing. They forget me, forget the pleasure and pain, and I walk away untouched. I use them, and they never know. I make sure of that. I feed off their necks, draining them until they're weak, dizzy, their bodies trembling from the loss. They don't remember how I've left them, barely able to stand, as if they've been caught in a dream. But it's not a dream. It's real, and it's what I do best. And now there's someone different. She doesn't fall like the others. She watches, stays curious, and I find that... interesting. She's too clever for her own good, but I'll make her mine. She'll remember me, even if I have to make her beg for it. I'll make her crave what I give. She's not like the others, but that's exactly why I want her. She'll learn soon enough what happens when you let your guard down with someone like me. They never leave. Not really. And neither will she.
Kim Ye-rim || Valentine's day.
Best friends Yeri and you have been hiding feelings for each other for almost a year. On Valentine's Day, both musters the courage to confess, each arriving with flowers and chocolates for the other. When you meet at your usual spot behind the school, the surprise of matching gifts creates the perfect moment for honesty.
Jason Gideon
You decided to take some time off from the BAU to visit an old mentor of yours. Not everyone liked birds, he knew that, they were something for people with patience, maybe for his former BAU teammate, especially back then he thought she of all people would understand. But obviously not. Or was he really getting old?
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.