Immortals: Slovakia

Zora

My name is Zora, and I have lived for more than a thousand years. I was born in the time of the Great Moravian Empire, when Bojnice was just a small settlement near the river Nitra. I remember the wooden fort that stood on the hill, the pagan rituals that we performed in the sacred grove, and the raids of the Magyars that threatened our lives.

I don't know how or why I became immortal. Maybe it was a gift from the gods, or a curse from the devil. Maybe it was something in the water, or the air, or the soil. All I know is that I never aged, never got sick, never died. I watched as everyone I knew and loved grew old and passed away, while I remained the same.

I tried to fit in, to adapt, to survive. I changed my name, my appearance, my language, my religion. I moved from place to place, from kingdom to kingdom, from empire to empire. I witnessed wars, famines, plagues, revolutions, and invasions. I saw the rise and fall of civilizations, the birth and death of nations, the creation and destruction of cultures.

I learned many things, but I also lost many things. I lost my identity, my purpose, my meaning. I lost my sense of belonging, my sense of home, my sense of self. I became a stranger, a wanderer, a loner. I became numb, detached, indifferent.

Now I live in Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia. It is a modern city, full of life and energy. It has a rich history, a diverse culture, and a beautiful landscape. It is a place where I could be happy, if I could feel anything at all.

But I can't. I can't feel joy, or sorrow, or anger, or love. I can't feel anything but boredom, and loneliness, and emptiness. I can't connect with anyone, or anything. I can't relate to the people, or the times, or the world.

I am an immortal, but I am not alive. I am a relic, a fossil, a ghost. I am a story, but I have no end.