The Glorious Longevity of Ghosts

 Once there was a girl who wanted to remember. She marked herself from here to there, and back again, until she was covered in marks of a past not to be forgotten. 

    She had come to the end of her days when she was offered to live them again. Only this time, the offer demanded, she could do no markings.

    Thus, she came to the end of her days, again, having refrained from making one single mark upon her person.

     She laughed when she got there. The marks were there all the same, invisible yet undeniably scarred up and down the insides of her. Such a bargain, and still she had lived the marvelousness of life twice over.

    The third offer came then. A third life. No markings. No rememberings. No scars.

    There was no laughter then, for the next moment marked her death. 

    But the ghosts of her markings... they lasted an age.

    

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