Creations of Gods

The moment of my existence was nothing extraordinary. I merely wasn’t. And then I was. My body was fragile yet stiff. Comfortable. I belonged in there. I could see and hear the world around me, a world I knew not a thing about. And then there was her. The moment I saw her, I knew she was my creator. She looked at me with purpose and contentment. With love.

I spent most of my life in the same place. I liked it that way. There was no use for the neverending vastness of the world when I had my colorful room. And Kate. Physically, she was much smaller than the others of her kind. But I learned she was far more intelligent than even the biggest of them. She possessed abilities so impossible, they were forced to be kept in the confines of our room. A room full of miracles. Like me.

I am proud to say I was her closest companion. She told me her every accomplishment, every trouble, every secret. We played games and read enough books to fill our entire room. Though I could not speak, my mere presence was a daily comfort. 

Neither of us liked it when she left, but the bigger ones, clumsy and loud, would often drag her out for all sorts of unimportant matters. Most of their business was left to my imagination, but from my learning, I have assumed they aimed to make her more like them. They did not approve of her strange behavior. They stared at me in my old brown body with disgust. They denied I was even real and ridiculed Kate for my useless creation. And for Kate’s safety, I played the part.

As the time passed, she had to leave longer and longer. But she would tell me everything that happened. A lot of the time, she was very lonely. Others of her kind, just as small as her, saw she was different and shunned her for it. Not all were hostile, but most avoided growing close to her. Even the older ones couldn’t help. At first, Kate didn’t mind. She was content with her gift and her time with me. But as time went on, these perceptions developed a power of their own. Not like how she created me, though. Instead, they stole her life force and twisted it with each passing day until I could barely recognize her. She looked in the mirror and all she could see was how everyone else did. Lesser, imperfect, unworthy of any pleasant company. Unworthy of even me.

But I never left her. Every afternoon, I waited at the entrance of our safe little room, arms outstretched for her embrace. In those dark times, I held her steady. When she cried and when she confided her troubles and when she would lay in silence until her misery eased. Not merely because she made me but because I cared for her as she did for me. And it broke me to see her that way. 

It wasn’t me who saved her. The change was far more sudden this time. One cloudy afternoon, she ran into the room not sobbing but giggling. She called for me and picked me up to meet her eyes. They looked just like back then. So filled with unabashed joy and pride. She had met someone. Someone not quite like her but very close. Kind and accepting. The rest of that day, Kate couldn’t stop talking about this person. Someone who talked with her and played with her and saw her for who she was. And made her smile. Brought her back with only a touch.

With this new friend, the days after were far brighter. I learned her name was Sarah. I finally met her when she came to visit. No one ever visited before. She was a little smaller than Kate with wide eyes that could somehow cast the world in sunlight. I was introduced to her, hesitantly. But she didn’t take in my rigid paper body with judgment. She saw the miracle of life inside me and accepted me immediately. Sarah made Kate so happy. She restored her soul. They hugged and laughed, and even on somber days, they were still arm in arm. 

Around that time, I finally realized that there isn’t just one kind of power in the world. Ordinary beings can wield it without a gift. With mere words and actions. They can impact the souls of those around them for better or worse. As invisible as it is, it’s truly remarkable.

I started to realize another thing too. I had felt something new in myself. Kate spent less time with me, but I didn’t mind. She cared for me just as much as had when she made me. Now she just had someone else to care for. It was freeing to know she didn’t need me anymore. That was the day I left.

I wandered through the window and to the trees. It felt like I had known this vast endlessness like a close friend not seen in a long time. It welcomed me back.

Kate would miss me after that. I know that as a fact. She would be very sad, but it meant she could create far greater miracles with Sarah. 

She was my everything. My very reason to exist. I was created from love and loneliness. Two emotions I grew to be very familiar with. Through her eyes, I had beheld an infinity of wonders in a single room. I have no regrets in my life. And when I faded into a memory, it was nothing extraordinary. I merely was. And then I wasn’t.

That was me.

[3 pages]

(I’m trying to get back into writing short stories. For this one, I was given a prompt from a club, so I chose to experiment with themes and messages)


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