 The day that I stopped aging was January 1, 1900. I remember it clearly, not because of the strangeness of that day, but because of the burning malice and greed that would tarnish my soul forever. I was 31 and living a hard but simple life in Savannah, Georgia as a fisherman. That meant early mornings, late evenings, countless hands, and a fair share of tall tales with strong spirits at night. I would find myself in less than admirable places with less than admirable men. But by and large, I was considered a decent man in town. That night was more rowdy than usual. For some reason, people tend to get antsy when the year reaches a nice round number. More than a few of the superstitious folk in town were going on about the world ending, but I didn't pay much attention to it. I found myself once again at the one-eyed cat at the stroke of midnight. It was hot and dank in the little bar, but we were too drunk to notice and too busy lying in singing songs to care. The celebration for the new year was at its height when the door slowly opened. Most weren't watching, but growing up poor had given me quick eyes and in the doorway stood an old feeble woman, Miss Beltley. We all knew her. She was crazy as a loon, homeless and persistent. The man closest to her pushed her out and I could see her stumble as the door slammed shut. Sure, she was annoying, rude, and smelled bad, but I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt seeing her shuffle away through the windows. It was a cold night and she had nowhere to go. I pulled myself away from the bar and made my way towards the exit. Miss Beltley, hold on, I said to her. She stuttered her feet and turned to face me as I jogged up. Is everything all right, Miss Beltley? Can I help you with anything? I could smell the wine on her breath as she slurred her response. I'm hungry, cold, my feet hurt, and to top it all off, the devil keeps following me everywhere I go. I cracked a smile. Well, I can help you with the first three, but you'll have to go to church for the fourth. I handed her some spare pocket money and told her to go to the schooner in for the night. They would have food, warmth, and a bed. That was the best I could do for her. Thank you, kind sir. God bless you. She said as she tottered away. You've done your good deed for the night. Came a voice from the darkness. It startled me and I spun towards the river to see a man leaning up against a light post. How would I not seen him before? Oh, sorry, I didn't see you there. And yes, I suppose I have. I just didn't like the idea of her being in the cold all night. We all get there at some point. He replied, my eyebrows creased. You can call me Watten. He said as he strode forward and extended his hand, his grip was firm, and I can assure you that as a southern fisherman, I didn't think this often, but he was extraordinarily handsome. Pleasure to meet you. I said, no, Mr. Gray, the pleasure is all mine. He smiled back with perfect teeth. How do you know my name? Waste questions on something as boring as that. Well, what kind of question should I be asking? I replied, I've got one for you. Do you believe in good and evil, Mr. Gray? I don't know why, but I played along. Well, in the everyday sense of one neighbor to another. Yes, I do. But in the Darwinian sense, no, I don't. At the end of the day. Or just animals. He clapped his hands together triumphantly. Look here, we have a man educated well beyond his appearance. You must have time to read on board that fishing boat. I stared blankly for a moment. How did he know I'm a fisherman? I don't know. Maybe I just smell like fish. Either way, I was starting to feel uneasy. Well, it's getting late. I should be going. I said, Oh, you have plenty of time. Let me ask you another question. Do you want to live forever? Sure. Who doesn't? I replied, I imagine that giving freely most people would accept immortality. But the real question is, what are you willing to pay for it? As he says these words, he lifts his right hand about three feet above his left and drops a coin. It slows and halts halfway down, slowly rotating in the air. My face goes pale and prickling ice spreads over my body. Who are you? What do you want from me? My voice is dry. Why I've already told you, and you can call me Watton. And what I want is to offer you a deal. What kind of deal? I ask, I will give you immortality for as long as you like, but you have to give me something. What? Blood. Every ten years, you must kill someone of a reasonable health that doesn't deserve it. It's a continual blood pact that shows me you mean what you say. You are all just animals. You're insane. Look, I don't have time for this. I shot back in turn to walk away. Henry. It starts tonight with the old woman. He holds his hand up in a shifting ball of liquid gold is suspended in the air. I was hypnotized. And as I stared forward, the metal transformed into a perfect golden dagger in the heart, Henry, every ten years. He extends the knife with a hilt towards me and a grin on his face. I felt drawn to it and I took hold of the cold handle, but I don't pull it away just yet. Why are you doing this? Immortality is boring, Henry. I'm doing it for fun. So you see, Sybil, this is why you're tied up in this strange place with a gag in your mouth on the eve of 2020. I can tell you after 151 years of youth that good and evil are real. The truth is I'm scared to stop. I'm scared for my soul and the judgment that I'll face. If I knew what I know now, I would have walked away. I have to live with my decision and that's all I can do. Every ten years, I just fall deeper into the pit. I placed the tip of the dagger on the left side of her chest as she stared at me with wild eyes. Evil is real, Sybil. And I have become it.