[ WP ] Each morning , every human on Earth must pray their Reasons for not dying that day to the God of Death . If the Reasons are sufficient , that person will go on living , potentially forever . However , you are the longest living human by far , and people now hunt you in order to hear your Reasons .

I reached up, pulling down a large worn book from the mahogany bookcase. `` You know I cant tell you, just like the others, what makes you think you are different? special?''. `` I'll kill you if you do n't tell me'' he snarled waving a rusting dagger menacingly. `` You can try, like the others, but I am still here''. I turn to face the man, he ca n't be older then 20 but his face is gaunt, hair long and matted with a slight maniacal glint in his eye, living in fear that every day could be your last, that your reason will get rejected can do that to a person. I place the book gently on the stone table next to me and gaze out of the window. A storm is brewing, snow swirls and twists around the tower. I have lived these past 80 years, ( if this is called life ) in this ancient stone monastery, atop a treacherous mountain which few can traverse. I must give credit to this young man standing behind me, he must have suffered much to reach me. I suppose that is part of what keeps me alive... 
 
 The average lifespan of a person on my world is just 25 years. One day of weakness or depression and it is all over. All have heard of me. The 100 year old man. All want to ask me how. Few know where I live. fewer are able to make the journey. None have found my reason, my secret to eternal life. 
 
 A feel the knife slide through my chest. `` YOU BASTARD'' he screams, `` TELL ME! TELL ME! ``, his knife plunges again and again puncturing my throat, chest and arms. I let him vent his anger, frustration and watch as realisation dawns. You can not kill unless death wills it. Today is not the day I die. 
 
 He falls to the floor sobbing uncontrollably, the knife slick with blood fallen next to him. `` Why wo n't you tell me'' he moans. I look down at the pitiful wreck sobbing uncontrollably at my feet, and wonder, not for the first time... 
 
 Why did he create this game at all, just to cause suffering and pain? To take joy in the despair which befalls everyone? I am just another pawn in his sad sadistic world. Just another way to cause pain and disappointment for those that dare hope. 
 
 I wish I could help these poor creatures, those that are driven to endure inhuman suffering to reach me. But I can not. For this is the saddest joke of all. I have no reason. I have not prayed for 80 years. I am kept alive so that people have a hope, a false hope, that they will find my reason...''
