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That night I decided to kill myself, the Devil visited me. He did not ask for my soul, but offered three wishes with no conditions. If I should refuse, then he would let me finish the job at peace (and perhaps meet him later).
I took on his offer. First, I asked for immortality. Without much pomp, he granted my wish.
I had always wanted to be a cowboy, and thinking that time travel should be easier to grant than immortality, asked to be sent to Tennessee, 1850. The third wish I decided to keep for later, and he bade me goodbye.
I started as a small-time ranchhand. I fell in love with a lovely lady, bought a ranch, breed cattles, and raised two beautiful boys with blue eyes. One day I was sick with dysentry. Three weeks later, my condition got worse. I could not die, but I slipped into a coma.
I did not realize when the local doctor tested my pulse and pronounced me dead, or when my wife was sobbing, or when my boys were tugging at my lifeless hands, or when the pastor prayed for blessing for my soul, or when the gravedigger poured the dust on my casket. When I woke up, the weight of earth is crushing my bones. I was out of breath, but I could not die. For eternity I will gasp in total darkness.
Then he came; through the casket I heard his voice, “Third wish”. He could only hear “air…air…”
“Done,” and forever he is gone.