I sigh, listening to the sound of parishioners raising their voices in song to praise God, or, that is, me. I look up at the tall steeple of the church, then turn away. A familiar ache in my heart stinging as I walk away. Two hundred years have made it more bearable, but the pain was still there. I glance up to the beautiful Sunday morning sky, and silently curse my once closest friend, and most trusted advisor. Satan, or Lucifer, whichever the mortals used these days, was the cause of my agony, and the reason of the world's rapid decline. I frown, looking back down to the street, and begin heading back to my apartment.
Several of the young girls I pass giggle and mimic having a phone to their ear and mouth call me. I try not to roll my eyes. I may look like I'm eighteen, but I am definitely not. I did have a reason for choosing to be such a young appearing man, and that was the fact that being a younger boy would get social security to snatch me up faster than a vulture to carrion. Being too much older would make me need to get a job, which would be bad since mortal time often slips past me, and I would likely lose my job faster than even I could see. Being elderly would mean I'd be unable to move around as I wished, and someone would come over and stick me in one of those smelly nursing homes. I resist shuddering at that thought.
Turning right, I head into a small apartment building, passing by the little desk and smiling at the girl sitting there. I climb up the stairs to my room, unlock and open the door, and walk in. I don't bother to flip the light switch, I rarely do, because the room is so empty that the shafts of sunshine squeezing through my closed blinds is enough to let anyone see clearly. A small sofa, a coffee-table-that-used-to-be-a-bed-stand, and a tiny, ancient, dusty TV occupied one corner, and a small bed and a dresser occupied the other. Next to the door, there was a small kitchenette, it's sink piled high with dishes, and on the other side of the door was a small bathroom and a closet. A thread bare rug did it's best to cover up the cold hard-wooden floor.
I sit on the bed and close my eyes, imagining myself as the God the parishioners were worshipping, the one I used to be; powerful, strong, unbeatable, or, at least, I'd thought I was. After millennia of being the most worshiped being by mortals, I began to look into creating man on another world, this time, I wouldn't let them have a forbidden fruit. I would be the only God, sin would not exist. I left, for a time, looking for a perfect place to put my new people, so that I could watch over both of my worlds, and I left my most trusted Archangels in charge. When I returned, alerted by the sudden deaths of thousands of young men, I found the carnage of World War I. Many of my angels, my friends, had been slain in the fighting, for World War I was not only a battle for mortals, but also a battle between Heaven and Hell themselves. Satan had created an army while I was turned away. I regrouped my angels, and clashed with the demons once again, in World War II. I wanted to crush Satan's rebellion, but instead, he either killed or captured my angels, only a few were able to escape, hiding somewhere in the cosmos, and I fell down to earth, too weak to fly back up. And now, nearly two hundred years later, sitting on my bed.
I open my eyes, shaking off a chill that had crept up my spine. Breathing in deeply, I reach deep inside myself, trying to feel my once bountiful powers once again. I had only the smallest amount left to conjure money and pay the bills. Slowly becoming more mortal didn't help, since I was finding the need to sleep and eat every once in a while, or I would become weak and eventually pass out. I sigh unhappily when I sense no powers besides the tiniest amount I have left, used for paying the bills. What is wrong with me? Where happened to my powers? I reach into my pocket and take out a twenty that wasn't there before, and stand up. Heading downstairs, to pay that month's rent, I realize that mortal time has slipped by me once again. What seemed like only a few minutes up in my apartment had been most of the day. A man now sat behind the desk, and I hand him the twenty. He writes down that I have paid him, gives me my change, and I go on my way.
«·»
A little while later, I am sitting on a bench in the middle of the city park, watching the sun sink down and brush the treetops. Pleased with the peaceful setting, I breathe in deeply, frowning mournfully at the acid stench of car exhaust and pollution, now familiar, that burned it's way down my throat. Even in the park, the awful things Satan helped to create in this world run rampade. Satan, what have you done? The mortal world never deserved this.
As the sun slid behind the trees, and the sky turned red, purple, and pinky-orange, the bench lurches as someone plops onto it beside me. Startled, I spin to face the new person, seeing a young man, around eighteen, with raven-feather black hair, wearing what-might-have-once-been-black-but-is-now-gray jeans, and a black tee shirt, a pale red rose being held by a skeletal hand printed on the front.
"What are you doing?" I ask, bewildered at his sudden appearance.
"I'm sitting on this bench, much the same as you are." He replied, turning to look at me with a smirk. I struggle to reply.
"Um... uh..... who--?" I wince inwardly at my incompetent stuttering. Is this what Moses felt like all the time? Oops, poor guy.....
"I'm Raven." The guy said. "What's your name?"
I blink, coughing against blurting out 'God'. Honestly, what is going on with me? Instead, I say my cover name. "I'm Bryce....nice to meet you." I stick out my hand awkwardly, and he takes it with a smile. I nearly scream. My powers are surging into me like a rising tide, and I am filled until I nearly burst. I was torn between ripping my hand away in fear, or hugging the dude and never letting go.
"Likewise.... so, why are you sitting here all alone in an empty park?"
I nearly start bawling when he lets go, and my powers ebb away once more. "Umm, is that not normal?"
Raven rolls his eyes. "If you want, there's a coffee shop just outside the park that sells wicked donut holes." He stands, and I jump to my feet, my hand still buzzing from the handshake. "Yeah, sure, okay....." Why am I going with this stranger? I do not need to eat.....what is going on with me?
As we walk into the coffee shop, I breathe in deeply to calm myself down a little bit.
"Can I have two small coffees and a box of donut holes?" Raven asks, and the cashier nods, tapping it into the screen.
"Would you like anything else, sir?"
"No, that's it, thank you."
"Alrighty then, your total is $7.32" Raven digs a ten out of his pocket, and she passes back his change and the coffee. A small sweet smelling box follows soon after. Raven thanks her, and we go over and sit by the front window. Raven passes me a cup, and I nod in thanks, and take a sip. Liquid fire scalded it's way down my throat, and I nearly choke. So this is coffee....it just burnt a hole through my tongue. I take another sip, and behind the hot, I can taste little flavor besides bitterness. "Um...thank you." I wince as it comes out as a question. I shift nervously, unknowing if what to say next.
"So Bryce, why on Earth do you look like your best friend just slipped in a puddle and broke his neck, and your mother went to go save him and got hit by a semi?"
I blink, startled, and run a hand through my mop of hair. "That would be awful! I don't look that bad, do I?" I reply, wrinkling my nose.
"Hate to break it to ya, but, dude, you do." I suppress a groan and drag my hands over my face with a heavy sigh. What do I say to that? I mean, I can't say 'Well, ya see, I'm God, and Satan booted me out of heaven and I have no powers anymore, but that's weird, cause when we shook hands, I felt like I could fly up to Satan and kick his sorry ass back down to hell forever, so yeah...' and I can't really just say 'uhhh' either.
Raven must have been able to read my expression pretty well, since he said "Well, if you don't want to spill your life story to a stranger, that's okay. Maybe we could just hang out. If you don't have any other plans, we could have a movie night on Friday."
"Well, if you're sure... I wouldn't want to be intruding or anything...." Perhaps spending more time with him will help boost my powers again....permanently. Raven grins, rolling his eyes slightly when I said 'intruding'. He grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out of his pocket. Scribbling something down, he passed the napkin to me. It read:
342 Greenway Ave.
Blue house, 3 step porch
See u soon ;)
He smiles, slightly sheepishly, at his bad handwriting, and stands. "I'd better get going. See you Friday." I jump to my feet, and he slaps me on the back before walking to the door. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the power that rushed through me at Raven's touch and materialize thirty dollars into his pocket, and two hundred in mine. I wished that I could give him more, but I didn't want to have him start asking awkward questions. After a few moments, I walk outside as well, and head home, unable to keep a smile off my face the whole time. Practically breaking into song as I open the door. I stand there a moment, my happy grin fading, as I wonder. Why am I so happy? It's just a movie....right? Suddenly, it dawns on me: for the first time since I fell, I had a friend. And even in heaven, the angels weren't friends. They were subjects. I'm not alone anymore. I climb into my small bed, and close my eyes, sitting there for awhile before drifting into the realm of sleep.
«·»
When I next open my eyes, I yawn, sitting up. When light from the window slices across my vision, I wonder how long I slept.
