The Recorder Part 3

The Recorder opened his eyes and felt the ice stuck to his legs first of all. He tried to stand up, but the ice stuck to his arms didn’t let him. He wriggled around, but he was stuck fast. He recounted his memories of what had just happened. He remembered what he needed to do. But it was too late, he was stuck, and would be for the next millennia. He was pained, the ice shifted through his veins and chest, and if he was a normal human, he would have shattered. But he wasn’t a normal human, he was The Recorder, cursed and blessed with immortality. He hated it. He wanted death to come to him. But it wouldn’t, ever. He was trapped in this hell, never to be released. He waited for years and years, and the ice would crack and splinter, but refreeze after. He was trapped in this prison, never to be freed, and he hated it. He cried and and cried, to no avail. One day, a space ship showed up out of nowhere. They beamed him into the cargo hold, and rushed him to the medical bay. They fed him, and that was that.

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