The creator, at the center of Heaven’s Peak, was resting his eyes as he lay relaxed in the warm water of a small fountain; it was his only favorite spot in the world. He inhaled and exhaled the pure, fresh oxygen; meditation kept him connected to Heaven’s Peak. He could hear her and feel her; the land was hungry.
No one could find the creator here; no one knew of his existence here, not any of the demons he created nor any human except, of course, the man who gave order to his chaotic creations and the land; he called himself William Becket. Only the creator knew who he really was, but his secret was safe with him, just as his secret was with the sheriff.
He got out of his natural bathtub, slid back with his long, light brown hair, which was in perfect harmony with his eye color, and walked naked on the fresh grass of his little heaven cave.
In the heart of the biggest mountain in Heaven’s Peak, the Nur Mountains, the creator carved himself a cozy green cave. Grasses floored beneath his feet, massive old barks and branches walled his cave, and thick green leaves roofed above his head and a hole in top of the mountain were the only sources of natural sunlight on days if, of course, clouds ever let the beams of light pass through them, but the real beauty would show itself in the nights when stars reflect on the surface of the fountain and give the creator the feeling of bathing in stars.
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like a small forest in the heart of the darkness with its small ecosystem. Flowers that shined in all colors gave smooth light to every corner of the creator’s cave. Shiny butterflies danced around along with so many other beautiful shiny insects that fed on the fruits on the one tree that stood tall like a pillar that held the weight of the whole mountain on its branches, and a few birds nested on the tree with long tails that always sang for the creator when he was meditating. Those birds were his favorite creatures, and they were perhaps a few of his creations that weren’t demons.
Eggs of all sizes and different colors decorated his beautiful green cave, and from those eggs, all sorts of demons would hatch and unleash different senses of terror, love, passion, hate, pride, and other feelings on Heaven’s Peak. Demons would feed on humans, not just on their flesh but on their pain and anger, on their ambitions and their desires, especially on their desires.
“Let’s hatch an egg,” the creator said to his small birds with his soft, warm voice.
He grabbed a purple egg the size of a human kid, put his forehead on it, whispered words of a forgotten language, and then kissed the egg.
He snapped, and the birds wrapped strings of leaves and loose branches around it. About two dozen small birds flew away, lifting the egg through the hole and holding the branches that covered the egg with their small black beaks.
“Farewell, child. Grow strong and make the land proud.”
The creator got back to his fountain and closed his eyes again. Birds sang, and he felt so many human souls coming toward Heaven’s Peak. The ships were close to the island, and Heaven’s Peak was excited.
The creator smiled; it was time to feast and let his demons do what they yearned for.