Articles

A World Without Death

In a world where no one could die, Ben longed for something to end.

It had been 150 years since the last funeral. Science had conquered death, sickness, and aging. No one grew old, and no one passed away. Accidents, diseases—none of it mattered anymore. The world should have been perfect.

But for Ben, it was not.

He sat alone in his small apartment, staring at the news flashing on the wall screen. A new law had been passed:

“Su!c!d€ is illegal. Attempting it is a crime.”

Ben let out a dry chuckle. How could it be a crime when it was impossible?

He had seen people throw themselves off buildings, walk into fires, or disappear into the deepest oceans. Yet, they always returned, their bodies fully healed as if nothing had happened. Life stretched on, endless and unchanging.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Ben, open up!" a familiar voice called.

It was Ian, his best friend.

Ben sighed and shuffled to the door. He pressed his palm to the scanner, and the lock clicked open. Ian stepped in, frowning.

"You haven’t been answering my calls," Ian said, closing the door behind him. "Are you okay?"

Ben gave a small shrug. "Same as always."

Ian sat down on the couch, watching him. "I know you've been struggling. But I don’t understand why. We have forever, Ben. You can do anything. Travel, learn new skills, meet new people—"

"I don’t want forever," Ben interrupted.

Ian frowned. "That doesn’t make sense. The world is limitless now. There’s no rush to do anything. You can take your time."

Ben ran a hand through his hair. "That’s exactly the problem, Ian. Nothing matters anymore. There’s no urgency. No purpose. Every day feels the same because I know there’s always another day after it. And another. And another. It’s endless."

Ian was quiet for a long moment. Then, he said, "Have you heard about the Black Zone?"

Ben’s eyes narrowed. "What’s that?"

Ian lowered his voice. "A secret place outside the city. It’s off-limits, but some people say it holds something… different. Something dangerous. Scientists abandoned it long ago."

Ben leaned forward. "Why is it dangerous?"

Ian hesitated, then whispered, "Some believe it holds the key to undoing immortality."

Ben’s heart pounded. "Undoing it?"

Ian nodded. "It’s just a rumor. But… if anyone left behind a way to reverse what they did, it would be there."

Ben didn’t hesitate. "Take me there."

Ian’s eyes widened. "Ben—"

"Please, Ian. If there's a chance, I need to find out."

Ian let out a slow breath. "Fine. But if we get caught, we’re in trouble."

That night, they left the city.

The world had changed over the years. There were no cemeteries, no hospitals, no need for medicine. Only endless cities filled with people who would live forever. Outside these cities, nothing grew. The land was empty, dry, and forgotten.

After hours of walking, they reached a tall metal fence covered in warning signs:

"DO NOT ENTER. BLACK ZONE IS FORBIDDEN."

Ian hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Ben climbed over the fence. "Yes."

Ian followed.

Inside, the air smelled strange—metallic, stale. The ground was cracked, as if the land itself had stopped living. Machines lay scattered, rusting. In the center stood a massive, dark building with shattered windows and broken doors.

Ben pushed the door open. It creaked loudly.

The inside was a graveyard of old technology. Screens flickered weakly, displaying broken data. Papers lay scattered across the floor, covered in dust. Ian wiped off a control panel and gasped.

"This place… This is where they first tested immortality," Ian said.

Ben scanned the room. "Then maybe they left something behind. A way to reverse it."

They searched for hours. Most of the machines were dead, their batteries long gone. But one still had power. A screen lit up, displaying an old file:

EXPERIMENT 0-1: RESTORING THE NATURAL CYCLE.

Ben clicked on it. A robotic voice spoke:

"In the early trials of immortality, we created a failsafe. A way to restore natural life cycles. But it was never used."

Ben’s heart raced. "Where is it?"

The screen changed, showing a hidden chamber below the building.

Ian gulped. "Ben, are you sure about this?"

Ben nodded. "I need to know."

They found a trapdoor leading underground. Dust covered the stairs as they climbed down. At the bottom, a dimly lit chamber held a single glowing capsule in the center. Inside it, a vial of dark liquid floated.

A message on the wall read:

"ONE DOSE RETURNS MORTALITY. USE WISELY."

Ben stepped forward.

Ian grabbed his wrist. "Wait! What if it’s dangerous?"

"That’s the point," Ben said.

Ian’s voice trembled. "But… I don’t want to lose you."

Ben looked at his friend, his only friend in this endless existence. "Ian, I’ve lived too long. I need to feel… human again."

Ian’s grip loosened.

Ben opened the capsule and took the vial. The liquid shimmered in the dim light. His hands trembled as he removed the seal.

"This is it," he whispered.

He drank.

At first, nothing happened. Then, a sharp pain hit his chest. His vision blurred. He fell to his knees.

"Ben!" Ian shouted, catching him.

Cold. For the first time in centuries, Ben felt cold. His heart was slowing. His body felt heavy, real, mortal.

He smiled weakly. "Thank you… for being my friend."

Ian gripped his hand. "Don’t go. Please."

Ben exhaled a final breath. His eyes fluttered shut.

And for the first time in a world without death—

Ben was finally free.

====================

The Lesson of the Story :

Life is meaningful because it doesn’t last forever. Knowing that time will one day run out makes us treasure the people we love and the moments we share. Without an end, we may stop caring about what really matters. Pain, struggles, and hard times are part of being human — they teach us to grow stronger and wiser. Instead of feeling hopeless, we should focus on finding purpose, helping others, and enjoying life’s simple joys. Each day is a chance to make memories, build friendships, and create something good. Living with kindness, courage, and love is what makes life special. In the end, it’s not about how long we live, but how well we use the time we have.

Where is Papa?

In a small town wrapped in quiet streets and fading dreams, the Carter family once laughed around the dinner table.

“Pass the potatoes, Mom,” Shanica would say with a grin, and her little brother Ben would already be reaching for them.

Their father, Jake Carter, was the kind of man who used to whistle on his way home from work. Their mother, Anna, always had flour on her cheek from baking. Life was simple. Life was good.

But everything changed the year her father lost his job at the factory.

“I’ll find something else,” he told her mother. “Just give me a little time.”

Weeks turned into months. Bills piled up. Jake started staying out late. One night, he came home with glassy eyes and slurred words.

“Are you drunk?” her mother asked, standing at the door.

Jake laughed. “Just had one. Needed to forget.”

Shanica, only fourteen then, watched from the stairs. Her father, who once kissed her forehead and told her bedtime stories, stumbled past her without a glance.

The drinking got worse. Then came the pills.

Her mother begged, “Jake, the kids. They see everything.”

He shouted, “I’m trying! You think I like this?”

Shanica held Ben close in the bedroom. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Daddy just had a bad day.”

Ben cried softly. “Why is Dad so angry now?”

“I don’t know,” Shanica said. But in her heart, she did. Something dark had wrapped around her father and wouldn’t let go.

She remembered the way he used to be—silly, full of jokes, the kind of dad who danced in the kitchen and made pancakes shaped like dinosaurs. But now his eyes were hollow, his words sharp, his laughter gone.

Her mother tried. Every day. She cleaned up the bottles, flushed the pills, and smiled for the kids like she wasn’t breaking inside. But every smile cost her more.

One morning, her mother packed a bag.

“Where are you going, Mom?” Shanica asked, eyes wide.

“I need to keep you safe,” her mother said. “We’re going to Grandma’s for a while.”

Her father stood in the hallway, red-eyed and shaking. “Don’t take them, Anna. Please.”

“You need help,” she whispered. “Come find us when you’re ready.”

They left.

At Grandma’s house, things were calmer. No shouting. No broken dishes. But no father either.

Shanica missed him terribly. She remembered how he used to make funny faces during breakfast or dance around the kitchen with her mother.

Ben, only seven, started wetting the bed again.

“Is Dad gone forever?” he asked one night.

Shanica shook her head, lying. “He’ll get better. You’ll see.”

Weeks passed. Then one day, the phone rang.

Anna answered. Her face went pale. She dropped the phone.

“Mom?” Shanica asked.

“It’s your dad,” her mother said, voice trembling. “He’s in the hospital.”

They rushed there. Her father was pale, thinner, lying on a cold bed with tubes in his arms.

“He overdosed,” the doctor said. “He’s lucky to be alive.”

Her mother sat by his side, crying.

“I messed everything up,” Jake whispered when he woke. “I’m sorry.”

Her mother took his hand. “You need help, Jake. Real help.”

“I’ll try,” he said, but his eyes were tired.

Jake went into rehab. Weeks turned into months again. They visited him when they could.

One day, Shanica sat beside him on a plastic chair.

“Do you still love us, Dad?” she asked.

Her father looked at her, tears in his eyes. “More than anything. I just forgot how for a while.”

Shanica nodded. “Please don’t forget again.”

“I won’t,” he promised. But promises were easy.

After rehab, Jake moved into a small apartment. He got a job fixing bikes. He smiled more. For a while, it seemed like he was coming back.

One evening, he invited them over.

“I made spaghetti,” he said proudly. “Just like old times.”

They ate and laughed. For a moment, Shanica saw a spark of the old Dad.

But healing is not a straight line.

A year later, her father missed Ben’s school play. “He promised,” Ben said, tears running down his cheeks.

Her mother’s hands trembled as she dialed Jake’s number. Straight to voicemail. Again.

Jake had relapsed.

They found him three days later, sitting on the floor of his apartment—his face hollow, surrounded by empty bottles and open pill packets. The curtains were drawn, the room smelled awful.

“Why?” her mother asked, her voice cracking like glass. “Why now? After everything?”

Her father stared at the floor. “I felt lonely,” he whispered. “I thought I could handle one drink. Just one.”

Her mother turned away, wiping her eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. Go back to rehab, Jake. Your mother is willing to cover all the expenses.”

Her father reached out weakly. “Please… don’t give up on me.”

But Anna and the children had already started walking away.

Ben didn’t look back. Shanica held his hand, her jaw set, her heart too tired to break again.

More time passed. Shanica graduated high school, quiet and distant. Ben grew up with questions in his eyes and sadness in his smile.

One cold night, another call came.

“He’s in the hospital again,” her grandmother’s voice said.

This time, the damage was worse. His liver failing. Body too tired.

They sat around his bed. Machines beeped slowly.

“I’m sorry,” her father whispered. “For everything. For missing your childhood. For hurting your hearts.”

Her mother held his hand. “We loved you. Even when it hurt.”

Ben whispered, “I miss you, Daddy.”

Jake looked at Ben and Shanica.

“I wish I could go back.”

Shanica leaned close. Her voice broke. “I love you, Dad.”

He smiled weakly. “Thank you for still being here.”

That night, Jake Carter took his last breath, surrounded by the family he had once broken—but never stopped loving.

After the funeral, Shanica found a letter in her bag.

It was from her father.

=====

Dear Shanica,

I was never strong enough to beat it all on my own. But every day, you and Ben’s voices kept me going.

Even in my worst moments, I saw mu kid’s faces and remembered what love felt like.

Please don’t let my story be your sadness.

Be happy. Be free. Live the life I couldn’t give you.

Love always, Dad.

=====

Shanica cried so hard she couldn’t breathe. Not because he was gone. But because he had always been trying—even when he failed.

Years later, Shanica became a counselor. She helped kids with parents like hers.

Ben became a teacher. He told his students, “Be kind. You never know what someone’s carrying.”

Her mother still baked pies every Sunday, leaving one extra slice at the table.

And on the wall of their new home, hung a picture of her father, smiling on a sunny day, holding her and Ben in his arms—before the storm came.

A reminder that love, though shaken, can still remain.

Even after goodbye.