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From the moment your eyes opened, you learned everything from him.
He taught you everything, from how the rain fell to how the animals were and why everything was the way it was.
As your arms and legs started getting longer, and your hair very slowly started to grow, you knew that the weather was forecasted and controlled by him, that the animals were always nice, and that the citizens were always humble, caring, and understanding.
He told you he wanted peace, and that he wanted to create this world, to fabricate what mortalkind should have been like from the very start.
That he needed to make a world different from a planet called “Earth”.
You loved roaming around the forests; around the trees whose trunks had grooves emulating perfect swirls, and whose grass was soft, much softer than your thick, spiky hair. The forest felt like home.
Sometimes you wandered the village, when he let you out of the manor, and looked at the villagers. Many times, when they were not peacefully going about their lives, they were dancing and singing. You wanted to join them. But he said you were needed for other, more important things.
Every set of nightfalls, or every “month”, as he called them, you went to the special room. The special room had blobby tiles of color on the wall that always made you a bit drowsy, and the soft floor that wasn’t as soft as the forest grass, but still made you want to lie down and doze off. The main part of the room was the chair that always made you cozy and warm whenever you sat in it. It was almost enough to distract you from the needle that would go in your arm, the big one you never looked forward to, sucking up your purple juice through a tube, and distributing it throughout the base that made up the foundation of the world. Your time there always felt like a fever dream.
After every visit, he’d give you an object that seeped into the world once in a while. He said that it was one of the “good” aspects of Earth: the inventions. Sometimes it was a chipped telephone, or rustic watch, or small, colorful bricks you could put together to make something larger. Dismantling and tinkering with all the objects took up most of your spare time. He told you it was a reward, for being so helpful and brave. He said that you were the tether, the missing piece to the world’s very function. You felt good when he’d remind you that right before and after every session in the special room.
Many times, life would go on as normal. When you were small, he would go around the villages and help the people with their daily tasks. He’d supply amounts of extra food for the day, tell stories to the children, and inform everyone that their requests for good weather in the following days would be fulfilled. The people saw him as a guide, an almighty. Anytime they’d praise him for that, he’d decline, and say that he and them were as equal as it could get.
Lately it seemed less like that, though.
He always loved you. He said he did. That was why he kept you in the big tower with him, where you could watch over everything and be proud of the world you helped create. But as he got more prideful of his creation, things got different.
Before, life would go on as normal. No conflict, nothing like the wars and disasters that he described happened on Earth. But after a while, the Creator got bored. Sometimes he’d create bad weather on purpose or make the crops fail that day. He told the villagers that that was something out of his hands, that the world was unpredictable in ways, that he was but a mere wanderer who wanted good in the already existing world. He said that, and made the world back to what it was before, and got more praise.
When he wanted something more “exciting,” he’d send you out in the night. The first time, he didn’t tell you why. As soon as your feet stepped out of the tower and into the night sky, your body started violently shifting. Your spine and ribs and teeth that you knew were on the inside now squirmed through your skin and protruded outwards. Parts of your limbs became itchy as they turned into crumbling dirt. Your hands extended into what could only be described as horrifying claws that, when touched anything, including your own self, created streaks that were deep enough to be easily felt. You were terrified. The way your flesh squelched as it morphed into something more stretched out and elongated made you feel like throwing up, with the wet, crackling sensation of your bones ripping through your muscles to get a taste of the night sky. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for it all to be just a dream.
For a moment, it almost worked. Then your body started morphing to its own accord again.
The way you could feel everything, all the sensations on your body one could not even think of in their lifetime. It wasn’t physically painful, but honestly, that feeling would have been better than the state of everything about you physically contorting, you wanting to run and sob and scream and do anything to get the horrible palpability out of your skin, your bones, your everything. You wanted to run and sob and scream, so you did.
Which woke up nearly everyone.
You heard cries that nearly drowned out your own before you could even comprehend what was happening to yourself and why. When you turned around, you were hit with light, coming from lanterns of the terrified villagers that stumbled upon you. Some held twisted faces of rage--a feeling you’d never seen before--and were ready to hunt you down.
Your immediate instinct, obviously, was to run.
Your heavy breathing before you sprinted away became faster and more rash, as your streaming tears blurred everything around you. You crashed into branches and trees, the feeling and pain reminding you what your body was wrought from now. You got scratches and bruises, deforming your body more than it already was, which all the more reason made you want to run away from the villagers and yourself.
You thought you got away, but you were wrong.
When you collapsed into the ground from not being able to run anymore, you felt stones hitting you; it seems like they found you. Some of the stones were just stones, with some missing and some hitting your head with a deafening crack that made you yelp and wince. One stone had fire.
That stone landed right on your neck. You don’t remember anything after those couple seconds of your excruciating screams that followed.
When you woke up, the Creator was there. He apologized to you, saying that what he did was an accident, and that he was planning something different, much lighter to get the villagers a little “spooked”. You wanted to believe him. Your caretaker, the one who guided you through life and set you up to be by his side. You couldn’t imagine living with the resentment and terror, so you shoved your feelings down and convinced yourself he was telling the truth.
You started going to Satya, the Creator’s helper, more often. Satya cared about you for more than your blood. Satya wasn’t mean and soulless like the Creator.
Satya knew something was up. It seemed like they knew more than they were letting on.
As you started excusing yourself from the Creator more and more to “rest” in your room, Satya would place a hand on your shoulder and tell you the same piece of advice.
“I think you should get out of here.”
What? What would happen to the world, then, that the Creator worked so hard to make? Everything would crumble, that’s what he always told you. What would happen to the villagers, to Satya, to him?
And where would you go? Not Earth. Earth was a devastating place, where murder and wars and bad leaders resided.
Although, lately the line between the people on Earth and the Creator had been starting to thin.
You started to consider Satya’s words, and avoided the Creator more often than you already were. It seemed like he feared something was up, but was interacting with the villagers most of the time. The months came and went, along with sessions in the special room that slowly grew more tense and quiet between you and the Creator. He sent you out, albeit in the evening, and only to cause mild disturbances to the villagers to “spook” them once again. And most important of all, you were yourself while doing so.
One day, you were in your bedroom, messing with your Earthly objects once again. You felt silence throughout the space, too similar to the silence you and the Creator experienced every day now whenever together. You laid down, feeling the rough part of your neck from that awful night, and the words came out before you could even think of the consequences.
“I think I do want to leave.”
You heard footsteps fade away from your room, and jolted up from the floor. You dismissed the sound, thinking it was nothing.
It wouldn’t take long before a black, swirling hole surrounded you from the ground and swept you away to Earth.