Death of humanity

2

LAZARIUS

I try not to sulk. I fail more often than I succeed. With nothing to occupy me, my thoughts easily take over, and I never like that. My emotions just get in the way of my thinking, and I don't like not being in control.

But I do sulk. And I know I am, I don't try to avoid it. I thought Azell would wait for me for longer than a few years. Godly years are longer than humans', but five really isn't that long at all, even at a godly perspective. It's mere seconds in my entire life. I'm offended that he replaced me so quickly. Who knows how long that throne has been there? I certainly don't, and I don't trust Azell or any of the other gods to tell me the truth.

So, out of spite, I roam around the island. I probably won't be coming back here willingly for a while, so I intend to make the most of it while I'm here.

So, I spit on all their lawns. I set fire to some of their hedges. I kick their doors open. I spell their windows to be covered with muck. Simple stuff that can be removed with a flick of a wrist, but things that will still convey my opinion to them successfully, just in case any of them had doubts.

I find myself at mansion I didn't know was here. Granted, I haven't been on the island for years, and I could have actually skimmed right over this (I need glasses and better observational skills. Ask my therapist.) when I was walking down this very road, deep into thought.

It's exactly like the rest of the mansions on the island. Marble, with a nice open garden. This one is well tended for a change. It's nice to see. Gardenias and daffodils and some nice white flowers too, and some purple ones. The grass is green, and it's lined by a white picket fence. Pathetic excuse of security if you ask me, but then again, gods don't really need that sort of reassurance. It's pretty all in white, if not a bit white-washed. It smells nice. There's a mailbox, too, but gods don't really send each other mail. I don't know why they have them. They're obsessed with looking like humans sometimes.

I start to walk again, pushing my cheeks out to start whistling (I developed the habit a while ago. I'm not proud of it.), when I see something that makes me stop. It's a name printed on the mailbox, and the fact that the mailbox has something in it.

I stoop down to the height of the mailbox (whoever lives here must be short) and dig out the mail that's hidden inside. I snap my fingers and it disappears in a flash of black smoke, and I know it's appeared in my desk drawers in the underworld. Hope it wasn't important.

My attention then turns to the name on the mailbox. I feel myself curl my lip at the sight of the cursive print, looping and beautiful. It's enough to churn my stomach. Nifteus.

The god of humanity has so quickly taken my place that he now has a home on the island, a throne, and a place in the godly hierarchy that's higher than my own. I growl, ignoring the sharpness it leaves in my throat that makes it itch. Magic rises along my arms, but I force it down. I've gotten a bit better at that, but my power is still uncomfortably overwhelming, and it almost scares me.

I'm disgusted by this god of humanity. But I don't want to hold it against him. I didn't want to be the god of death, but here I am. I got used to the undesirable role after a few aeons and stopped feeling sorry for myself or complaining. I still do that sometimes, though.

Something buzzes in my coat pocket. I've had a phone ever since Azell tried to contact me during an important war and I wouldn't check my mailbox in the underworld (I kicked it over. It irritates me.). So now I have a phone, and it's entertaining at times, but mostly annoying. It's lucky I didn't forget it in the underworld.