Don’t wake in the world where the trees all died, stay sleeping in the world which you thrived.

A saying from the gods told to mortals who tried to become a god themselves. The gods were said to have hated mortals, therefore shunning them when they had ascended to godhood.

I wasn’t sure if the saying was truly stated by ‘Gods,’ but I was sure that gods hated humans.

If they didn’t, why did I suffer so? Why did I continue to suffer on that planet as a human of their creation, when all I wished was to be free of that life?

Gods were foolish to me. Back then, I didn’t understand the pain they also suffered at the hands of their own maker.

But soon, I grew older on that wretched world. I began to see a glimpse of something in the gods that I didn’t when I was younger. I saw.. emotions, feelings similar to my own.

And the saying supposedly stated by the gods to turn humans away from godhood may have simply been them trying to deter humans from that path; another path of suffering.

Perhaps the gods were human, as was I once. Perhaps they had also been born to the streets of Vivian cities. Maybe they too had been a trickster born for mischief.

But I’m certain I’m the one and only God of Mischief. If there ever was one before me, their existence hasn’t been made known for hundreds of years.

By now I can understand the saying written by the gods of old. It wasn’t because of their hatred for humans, it was because of their love for humans.

As I found myself walking the same path as the ones who paved it, I realized how the universe spun, how humans were birthed, and how the first god, Khen, ruled over the galaxies for a short time.

And by ‘a short time’ I mean a few thousand years. My life has become long enough for me to call a few thousand years a short time.. I wonder what my mother would think if she knew I was suspended through time, forever lost in the power of the multiverse?

I don’t regret the decisions I’ve made up to this point, but I do regret not understanding the powerlessness of gods. And how very badly I wanted to be one..

Looking down from the sky, fog and debris surrounding me, I see the humans so small and tiny, as if little ants in their ant holes. But even the ants I can see if I stare hard enough. The power of a god is something I would have never imagined back then as a human.

I wonder, how did I become god again? How did I end up joining the gods, becoming a creator, even ruling my own planet? Worshipped as if I was the original creator, the humans pray to me. They pray for things I once thought were the most crucial part of being alive, but now I find them pointless. So utterly meaningless that I can’t help but play tricks on the humans who pray to me.

They should know by now I can only grant wishes in the form of tricks. The true prayers for lifelong happiness would go to other gods.

Even if my other title I’m known for is ‘God of Happiness,’ I can only grant it momentarily, just as other gods can. My power stems from humans faith, so I must play my tricks and make them happy if I want to stay awake in this path called godhood.

The hopeless humans will continue to be birthed, survive and then die. I will continue to grant their prays with the other gods and they will continue to worship us.

I can’t help but think the gods of old should’ve explained better. Their saying was useless to those like myself who wanted more power, who wanted more freedom and happiness.

The world the trees have died is a place where no mortal should tread while awake. I wish I too had stayed asleep in the mortal realm, ignorant of the powers of the universe.

I see black hair, blue eyes and a freckled face. My own face staring back at me, although different and strange.

My reflection feels off somehow, like the person there isnt really myself, just a picture of someone else. Although, i suppose that’s true, considering it’s not actually me, only a reflection of how I appear.

I imagine my true appearance as a fading ball of light, drifting through my body, never to be seen by another.

My own reflection stares back like it too cannot understand that we are the same. It stares into my eyes like I stare into its. I found that we do share similarities, in manner and in thought. Perhaps our appearances aren’t so different after all.

The bathroom soon feels too bright. The light fixture flickers occasionally, making my eyes begin to water. Staring at the mirror like this makes me feel a little crazy, especially in the dead of night when not even my siblings are awake. The light does nothing to help this feeling.

I decide it’s time to stop fixating on strange notions and begin brushing my teeth. But even then, my eyes stare into my reflection, or rather, the reflection.

We can’t seem to break eye contact. It’s so strange how I feel connected to the reflection but also hate the thought of it being like myself. Why does it feel so familiar yet so different? Why is it me but not me?

I’m forced to lose the staring contest to rinse my mouth. Then I avoid fhe mirror’s reflection in honor of my sanity. If I stare for too long I fear I might stare forever.

I dry my hands and face and quickly leave the bathroom, turning off the light as I go. Before I leave the room completely, I take one last glance at the reflection.

For a moment I realize that it is myself in that mirror, stuck in this never ending cycle of appearing then disappearing day after day in others’ lives. I see the truth behind it all.

Then I turn away and go back to my bedroom to sleep, forgetting this night ever existed.

‘I should have known that meeting them would lead to something like this,’ Daniel thinks.

He was sitting across from his ex-boyfriend, Jerry, and they had decided to catch up that evening. Their relationship ended on good terms, it was a mutual decision to break up and Daniel didn’t regret it.

The evening started off well enough, with good food at a new restaurant they found and funny stories that happened to the both of them over the past few years. It continued that way until the wine made them both a bit tipsy.

Suddenly Daniel was flirting and Jerry was flirting back. It was fun in a way that felt forbidden. Like, ‘how can we be doing this? We broke up years ago.’

Daniel wasn’t in a relationship at the moment, he wasn’t even looking for a new partner. His last girlfriend caused too many problems, and he had to clean up her mess before he started something new. But does a reignited relationship count?

Jerry was as handsome as always. He was funny and smart. He may be a bit arrogant and stubborn at times but it was part of his charm(or that was the alcohol talking). Jerry had been kind to Daniel in their past relationship. It was a sweet romance. After all this time, Daniel couldn’t even remember why they had broken up.

After dinner the two decided to go for a walk, all the while they continued their playful flirtations. Daniel wasn’t sure if it was real or just for fun. Perhaps he should leave it at that and not think further.

But perhaps the alcohol got to his head. And maybe it got to Jerry’s too.

Because the second they were getting ready to part, they looked each other in the eye and didn’t want to leave each other’s side. They were soon booking a room at the nearest hotel and the night grew steamier than ever.

After their shared desires were(mostly) extinguished, Daniel felt a sort of shame. He didn’t really regret it, he only felt this outcome was to be expected.

As single men who are both extremely compatible, in bed and out, it was only natural they felt drawn to each other again. But Daniel could only say, “I should have known that meeting you would lead to something like this.”

To which Jerry laughed and snuggled into his side. Daniel also smiled and the two fell asleep together.

As for what would happen in the morning, Daniel will have to figure that out when he wakes up.

A child screams in the background of joyful laughter and conversation. Several other children rush past, yelling and shouting at each other, waving plastic swords. One child even held a Barbie doll.

The adults sighed, wishing for them to calm down. A few older ones laughed and parted ways for the little ones to pass.

Christmas that morning had been eventful, to say the least. Two pairs of grandparents and several of their children bringing their own children to the family house up in the mountains was a difficult task to manage. But, luckily, the families were on good terms.

Presents had been bought and some of the parents banded together to complete the strenuous task of wrapping up the gifts. The night before had been worse — marking names and placing bows, sneaking through the living room and filling the stockings — but the morning was as cheerful as always. The kids were happy with their gifts and the teenagers were content.

The rest of the day went by with too hyper children and tired parents partying. Some ornaments were broken and the tree almost tipped over multiple times. The designated cooks — Edith and Freddy — were struggling with the orders of food coming in. They may have been married for over forty years but that didn’t stop them from arguing over who was cooking the cookies and who was mashing the potatoes.

The DJ was a fifteen year old boy named Jeremy with strange taste. All the adults had asked him once or twice to change the song. But he was better than asking the ten year olds who had even worse taste; old remixes and strange child pop songs were not mixed well with Christmas Day.

The eldest of the children, at seventeen, was tasked with keeping watch of the younger ones. She had her plate full running after her younger brother who liked to hit people with new remote control car. But she had to deal with her younger cousins bickering and even the crying ones who complained about not getting what they wanted for Christmas. She was already fed up and the day was just nearing noon.

One of the mothers, Sandy, had gotten sick recently, so she had been lying down the whole time but unable to sleep because of the noise. She was happy to be included on the fun but sometimes a girl just needs some shuteye. Her husband refilled her water for her and even brought her a soft blanket (it was her dad’s new blanket that she had personally bought him; she has every right to rest with it for a day).

Hours passed and dinner had been prepared with help from many of the parents and even the children chipped in the arrange the seating and set the table. The feast was filled with turkey and potatoes, as well as a thick ham and all sorts of cheeses. There were rolls and muffins(gone in less than ten minutes). Edith had prepared three different gravies, all to satisfy everyone’s preferences. Freddy had boiled corn and cooked canned green beans. He set out olives and saw a few kids stick them on their fingers and wave around their new fingers.

Dinner went by with several kids fighting over the last roll. And everyone got a bit annoyed at Grandpa Greg’s political talk. Overall, the dinner was splendid.

The children began to pile into their makeshift floor bed, covered with all the pillows the could find, save for the ones their parents used on their own beds. Blankets piled up and soft snores were soon heard. A few kids stayed up and played card games while the rest slept while watching reruns of SpongeBob on the television.

The adults had gone off, except for Grandma Barb. She stayed to watch the last of the kids fall asleep.

And after that the day came to an end. The blissful dreams and full bellies made everyone sleep soundly after the eventful day.

Rain poured down relentlessly that evening. Halloween was an important holiday for humans, surely the rain wouldn’t stop the partygoers and the cosplayers.

‘But it might slow them,’ thought the blue butterfly. ‘It would kill me if I went out there.’

The butterfly hid on a human’s porch, out of reach of the rains splatter reach. Although the children barging by made the butterfly fear it would be found and have to flee.

Children stomped up the steps, the doorbell rang and the children screeched, “Trick or Treat!” The person inside came out laughing with a bowl filled with sugar infested treats.

If the butterfly had been human, perhaps it would be experiencing something so joyous like collecting candy from strangers on a holiday to celebrate the dead souls. Instead, the butterfly was hiding from the rain, fearful of the humans.

A black figure walked down the street, seeming to be in costume. They were older than the kids, perhaps even older than the parents walking down the roads with their children. They were dressed up in a black coat and a grey bandana covered half of their face. Their eyes couldn’t be seen from so far away but the butterfly noticed the dark sockets and the pale skin. They held a black umbrella, the only intelligent person in this rain.

The butterfly thought quickly, ‘wouldn’t I be safer under the cover of an umbrella? Out of the reach of pesky children and adults. No boisterous noises..’

As the dark figure passed the house which the butterfly stayed at, the butterfly flew faster than it’s ever flown and felt the sensations of rain drop past its body.

It landed unsteadily on the person’s hand holding the umbrella. That’s when the butterfly realized the persons skin was darker than it had thought, a green tint to it. As the butterfly looked up into the eyes of the person, it realized the sockets were filled with white orbs, unlike human eyes.

The person stared at the butterfly for a moment, their footsteps ceased. They lifted a hand, and in that moment the butterfly seemed to regret flying towards the figure. But fear seeped into the butterfly making it unable to move. Slowly, the hand of the person came to gently extend their hand to the butterfly, as if asking to move to that hand. The butterfly complied, slowly crawling up the person’s fingers. The person stared at it for a moment longer before continuing their journey down the road.

The next moment the butterfly was gone. Completely vanished. But the person continued walking as if it was never there. As soon as the person reached the end of the road, they vanished too.

Their job was done.