Paul Lyons sat in his cramped cell. His fingers still black from the ink off of the finger print pad. The arresting officer never realized that Paul didn’t have any recognizable prints.

So there he sat, in a cell built by lower creatures than his own. Oh sure, he could leave anytime he wanted. But Paul didn’t want to go down that road again. This wasn’t the first time he was in a prison cell. Paul remembered back in the early 19th Century where he was wrongfully accused of stealing a horse which ended in a hanging. Paul pretended to go through the ceremony of it all, but when the executioner dropped the trap door to let Paul’s body dangle, he just hung there. Calm as ever. When an old timer declared him a demon worshipper, someone shot him. The bullet wound healed itself instantly. The crowd ran off leaving Paul behind. His loud laugh was heard throughout the town. He then ran off dragging the whole Gallow’s Pole with him.

Looking back on this distant memory, Paul smiled. To be young again.