Desserted World

A Grave Mistake

  Atlas paced back and forth, contemplating the last five minutes of his previously far from perfect but relatively uneventful life. How long could he have been expected to go without using his magic? It was unreasonable of this world to be the way it was, so restricting and bleak. it wasn't his fault- It couldn't be. 

  Previously:

  Leilah strode over to the door, Horace has gone home just two hours ago. "My work is done here, enjoy your evening and don't cause too much trouble, okay?" he stared on, entranced. "Okay????" "AH- uh- yes. Of course, hahah- No trouble at all- You know me-" he made an attempt at nonchalance, leaning on his elbow- which hit a platter and sent it sliding across the counter and crashing to the floor. He winced. Leilah chuckled and shook her head, "I'll seeya tomorrow, Atlas." He allowed the sound of his name on her lips to engulf him, filling his head with daydreams, and his heart with hope. "For sure- Seeya Leilah!" With a 'ding' the front door opened, she was gone, and the door closed again. There was silence. 

  For five agonizing minutes Atlas manned the front, alone. He could feel gravity increasing, as his energy seeped away. He could see this sky fading from blue, to yellow, to peach as the sun crept closer and closer to the horizon. He could hear cars driving by as many a person began their journey home from another day at work. He could feel the emptiness around him, and the urge to do something moronic was like an itch in his brain, he couldn't make it go away. In an attempt to occupy himself, he walked to the nearest trash can, and stared at its contents. "What a shame-" the remains of a beautiful chocolate cake lay wasted in the bin, this was a common occurrence. Death by chocolate- One of his favourites. His hands gripped the edge of the can, and with conviction, he plunged his hands into the trash can, grabbed the damaged cake, pulled it out, and set it right on the counter. He furiously tapped his fingers and muttered to himself, unsure of what had invoked such impulsivity. 

  But he felt something rising, growing inside of him. His eyes flashed. He inhaled deeply, raised his hands over the cake corpse, and spoke the language of his people- It was a language no earthly being could ever hear, or comprehend. It was a language that took well over the span of a human being's lifetime to begin to learn, and it took well over several human generations to master. How he had missed this. He felt his power, he felt the threads of the universe twist and turn, weaving together as he cast his spell. He reached out to the universe, and for but a moment- It seemed he was home once again. He felt liberated- He felt powerful- He felt whole.

  He felt a life next to him. 

  He smiled. It had worked- It was a life that felt familiar, like the ones he had grown up with. With this presence next to him, he felt for the first time in a long time that he was not alone. Excited, he dashed to the back. He pulled an unfinished strawberry milkshake out of the refrigerator in the break-room- Speaking softly once again he beckoned another spirit into existence. he felt its life surround him, it was warm, and soft, and uplifting. he reached for a container of cotton candy, then a package of black licorice, and lastly, a solitary, bland vanilla cupcake. He beckoned them into a state of being. He paced, tapping his chin, never taking his eyes off of them. He felt an overwhelming presence looming over him. He heard them whisper, he felt their life- He basked in his magic and their company- Until he felt a stabbing pain in his eyes. What was this? He felt anger, rage, hatred, even. He felt blood-lust- Sweat began to bead upon his forehead- 

  What had he summoned? What had he created...? 

  "What do you want? Who are you?" he whispered, "Vengeance. I am Vengeance." A voice replied. "Who is who? Why are you angry?" "We are one, and we grow weary of humanity's wastefulness and entitlement." He was stunned, unsure of how such malice could be present in a life so new. His people studied hatred closely, it was highly unusual for feelings so strong to exist in the beginning of one's life... No... Hatred was like a festering wound. It could only exist for a reason, no matter how unjustified or unimaginable. What reason had these young souls to hate humanity, really? In a panic, he tried to reverse his magic- but they were strong now. In a desperate final attempt to reverse the damage, Atlas commanded them to be gone, he tugged at the strings of reality and tucked them away, pocketing them in another plain of existence, far from humanity, where they could do no harm, but he feared their strength, he feared their will, he doubted that this was over, and he still was not sure he knew what had gone wrong. He pondered his actions, asking the same question over and over again, as though someone might be able to answer him, as though he was not entirely alone once again. He felt a wave of nausea pass over him.

  "What have I done?"