Creations

And thus, I am born. The very first one of God's creation. My chest is heavy, the air is light, my back hurt and I breathe. I breathe. Even though they are nonexistent. Even though I am the first one, a great honor, all I can think about is how much my back hurts. The wings are so God damn heavy. They make breathing so fucking difficult and I cant tell if its because of physical weight or responsibility. My claws hurt too. They are not the ones that hurt, but they hurt the rest if my body. I hadn’t realized they were here, and now my arm is scratched. My fangs bleed my lips, and maybe it is because of those things. These bad demon things that tell me it's just my nature, but I really wanna kill God.

"Don't," He said a second early.

I guess he knows it. Maybe it was a little show off to wait for just one second before but hey, the guy is God. It doesn’t stop me, though. Not this. What really stops me is His look. This unbreakable expression, all mighty and calm, frozen and hard as rock, looking me in the eyes telling me He… loves me. A feeling that feels like drowning in the pleasure of responsibility. I'm not sure I like it. My chest hurts more.

"Take this," He says, handing me the lettuce.

Food. I crave my fangs in it and it hurts my stomach. Somehow it feels wrong.

"Not like this," He says. "Easily. Less fangs and more teeth."

It's a little better now. It kinda tastes good. I don’t know. He looks down on me.

"Now that you let go of nature, let's get to work."

He gets down on one knee and takes his hands to the floor. That unbreakable expression does not move, and before I know it, the universe emerges. So... beautiful. And the galaxies know it. They know how special they are and somehow that makes them even more special. Capable of bearing life and death. Rock and stone. Lava, ice, and carbon food. Of course, God doesn’t care about that. He takes his cold eyes to life. His hand turn shaky and a little bubble meat is created. Looks delicious.
He hands the species to me.

"What do you say?" His face is cold as a rock.

The species kind of looks tasty. It's warm and juicy, squeezable and just plain… delicious. I open my eyes and fangs. I feel the responsibility of the little thing and I stop. He doesn’t want that. This little creation of His is too precious to be eaten. He hands me a lettuce.

"Good"

It's all right.

"What do we do about it?," I say.

He gives me a glass globe, with a round rock inside it.

"Keep it in here," He says.

I take the globe and the species. They get close to each other and they merge in a spectacle of light and sound. The sorrow of a species growing and multiplying and facing existence. The one meat bubble turns into dozens of thousands of individuals of its species and they all grow. All evolve from creation to death in an existence so perfect, so happy, that for the millennia they live none of them, not a single one, faced one bare second of misery. And now, He, is looking at me.
With a look not one bit more emotional. The coldness of His is freezing. I suddenly forget about the beauty of the existence in my hands, and I want to eat.

He turns away and does it again. Another meat bubble, just like the other. Put in the little glass and they exist in perfection. God doesn’t move, doesn’t look away, and doesn't feel. All that He feels is love, for me and the two now dead species He brought to existence. I can see in His eyes, the unconditional love for his alive animal, the unique angel who loves meat. There's a certain tone of melancholy to it. His love drowns me.

"Next one."

A third meat bubble. Glass. Happiness. Death.

"Next one."

Dozens of perfect existences of entire species. No emotion. And no rest.

"Next one."

"Hey God," I say.

He looks down on me.

"Maybe you could… I don’t know, enjoy it a little bit, you know?"

He hesitates, looks me in the eye to make me sure He loves me, and says

"Of course I know. You don’t know. Those were perfect, and the other ones will be too."

"Yeah but like… you are not enjoying it."

"What do you mean, little one?"

Okay, show of power. Fair enough.

"If you let go a little bit. Just create, maybe something other than a bubble. Something you enjoy and make you smile. Something that makes you cry in bliss. Or just cry, something. Don’t you want to?"

He considers the idea. He puts his hand together and a meat cub emerges. It has claws.

"Like this?"

"Yes. Perfect. How do you feel?"

His frozen face looks at the cube. Analises it and thinks about it and it goes without saying the answer is "The same".

"Okay," I say. "Maybe something other than meat. Or something complex. Maybe multiple things."

He puts the cube meat on the ground. He doesn't give me a glass. He opens his arms and hands, and two things come to existence. One is a little bubble made of iron. And the other is meat, but it looks like a star, with pointy things coming out of it. It's interesting.

"Awesome! How do you feel?"

He doesn’t say much. But I got the feeling his frozen face showed a little compassion. A glimpse of happiness, per say.

"Next one," He says quickly.

The Creator opens his arms and species emerge. Dozens of them. Each one from different materials and some materials merge with the creation. Some already existed before it. Each species is perfect, and I know it. He knows it. After a few of those, His eyes turned cold again.

"What is it?," I say.

"Nothing. It's just… they don’t look like much."

My heart trembles. Not much? And here I was, delighted by every sight. Some of them are so beautiful I feel bad about my ugly angelical look.

"But you felt something, didn’t you?"

"Yes. On the new material ones."

"So do more," I say. "Do much more, and don’t think about it. Just let go. Let go of control and power and your desire to create perfection. Feel it, do it," I say. He listens.

Creatures emerge. And more planets, materials, galaxies, atoms, quarks, nebulas, love, hate, thinking, consciousness, the lack of it, too much, too little – in quantity and size – blurs of dust and gas and thinking. Each of the most giantess prettiest gold of heart and locks. Just in time for the creation of the one and only simian. Fast forward to the slow down, and get it back up. The creator creates. The creations exist, transform, and grow and develop and do not die. They have their own kind of kindness. A needness for attention and love and compassion from their master. And then, the monkey. God stops.

I look around at the millions of species and planets. My fangs show in a way only He could make it happen. The creature, these beautiful creature rolling around in a quest for thinking and happiness, ignoring the fact the two are against each other. God takes the little monkey in his hands. His eyes open slowly and he... stares. Just looks at that little creation of his and sighs. Relieved from the discontentment. Crying his eyes out. Happy.

"They are beautiful," He says.

"Yes God. Very beautiful. I told you."

"So beautiful."

He stands there, looking at His palms. A little blue rock appears in my hands and I put the monkey in there. God is still staring, incapable of looking away. If there was something God couldn't do, I didn't expect it to be this.
He doesn’t move. I wait. I call the planet "Monkey Blue", and He likes it.
"Monkey Blue," He says.

The silence of the void returns. All existence stops and I hear God mumbling under His breath. I think He's praying.
My ears start to hurt, just like my back. I feel my claws tickling and my fangs melting. I am surrounded by dozens of thousands of millions of unlimited meat species. The Creator is busy. My claws are not.

I turn to the prey, and jump. In mid air I stop. Floating heavily, pushed down by my wings, I see a bright red light. A sudden warmth. A vision so terrifying it looks like a mirror. The other first creation of God. The king of darkness. He stands his claws and fangs to me, his blue eyes small as could be, and he looks to God.

"Look at Him," he says.

I obey. I can't help it. God is numb, stagnated, staring at a monkey that looks like Him.

"Now, my son. Look at your prey."

I do. They are dying. Killing each other and themselves without God's attention. I look at everything, God, Lucifer, the monkeys, Monkey Blue, the prey and myself. My wings turn lighter. The planet's globe is heavier, and then I see.

My hand is in front of me, holding the little planet. My eyes are inches away from it and I see. Societies of the monkeys, their world, destroyed. They managed to ruin everything with war, even with God entirely to them, at their mercy. Even the monkeys hate their species. Even they agree they don't deserve to exist.

The pulsing feeling of darkness haunting the galaxies for millennia suddenly gets stronger. It's my mind playing, trying to convince itself to finally kill. To save everyone, to save God. All I have to do is let go.

"If I do this," I say, "what happens to God? What will He do to me?"

Lucifer shrugs his shoulders.

"He loves you, doesn't He?"

I relax my hand, and let go.

"So long, monkeys," I say.

The tiny globe falls down without resistance. There's no time to slow. No emotion. Just the final moments of a dead planet. The crash sounds like billions of species sighing in relief to an existence without war. The pulsing stops. The drowning feeling stops and I breathe. Breath. Lucifer turns away in satisfaction. And me? I shall live the remaining of my days knowing how I made God cry.