𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡? 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝?

You see, that was the sentence uttered to me some moments ago, spoken by the figure sitting elevated a few feet away from me, looking down at me in such a way, I felt like a child. To be honest, in that confusing moment, that's all I felt I was. A child, in dire need of saving, reassuring. From whom? I wouldn't be lying if I said I couldn't quite gasp the memories. But they were, nonetheless, holding together my thoughts like glue. I couldn't make out faces, could only feel the fleeting whiff of speech at the nape of my neck, but as unseen as they were to me, they were still there.

Why can't I remember?

All I knew was that I felt too light as I remained on the dark ground, calm as I sat cross-legged, looking up at that being before me with a quizzing look.

God?

The creature before me only tilts its head to the left, face shielded by the shadows and darkness of the space which envelops us but I can tell its gaze is on me, reading me.

I was never too fond of the concept of god, that little I knew.

The thing lets loose a minute huff, a premature laugh as it straightens its head once again, still watching me, analysing without a doubt.

Could it read my mind?

"CAN I?" it speaks, its voice travelling with a natural boom. It causes me to flinch, but I'm still glued to the floor, unmoving outside of that escaped fright. "MY, WHAT A PRESUMPTION!"

What the—

I feel scared...no, I think scared. I don't feel anything despite the many thoughts of my demise which rush my eyes through images. I don't feel scared, my heart isn't racing. I'm vigilant. Not scared.

How odd.

"I CERTAINLY DO APOLOGIZE FOR THAT DEBACLE, KERR," it speaks, sighing at the thought of whatever it was remorseful for. "NOT THE LIFE I ANTICIPATED, I CAN ASSURE YOU OF MY INNOCENCE THERE." It let out a great chuckle, the deep waves of its voice folding and doubling off the invincible sphere which kept us within the space. "ALTHOUGH, IT WAS A RATHER FUN SEEING YOU HOLD UP A FIGHT AGAINST THOSE MAGGOT MORTALS. THINK OF IT AS A FRIENDLY PAYBACK FOR THAT REMARK OF YOURS."

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What?

The being let free a sigh, resting its chin on the arm of its chair as it spoke again, "I DO HOPE YOU'RE NOT TOO UPSET. WHILE I CAN PICK THE LIVES, YOU HAVE SOLE RESPONSIBILITY WHEN IT COMES TO ACTUALLY LIVING THEM." I can only stare at it blankly, with no thought or register of its words as incredulity eats my features. "TO ADD, WHAT IS IT WHICH YOU ALWAYS SAY?"

There's silence as it looks at me, actually expecting me to add input to this insane tangent.

"Uh," I can only muster.

"NOT EXACTLY," it replies, taking my stutter at face value. Then just as it nears the starting syllable of whatever sentence it planned to spew, it pauses. There's a revelation in that pause, remembrance. "OH, RIGHT...YOU'VE BOUND YOURSELF," it huffs like an irritated child, sitting up on its chair. The whole place seems to shake as it folds its arms. "THIS IS EXCEEDINGLY DISAPPOINTING; I WAS HOPING FOR YOU TO BARRAGE ME SOMETHING, ANYTHING. I FEEL LIKE I'M CONVERSING WITH A MORTAL."

I don't answer it, only turning down to my body, taking in my—

"My arms," I gasp, feeling myself pale. My arms, my arms are missing. I'm an amputee, I'm limbless. But for some reason, I can't seem to even conjure a single tear, no ache in my core. What was wrong with me?

There's another thunder of laughter as the being pipes up, "WELL, I DO SUPPOSE THERE'S SOME ENTERTAINMENT IN SEEING YOU IN SUCH A FEEBLE STATE, KERR."

"My arms," I repeat faintly, eyes large. "Hands."

"YES, YOU SEE, I WOULD HAVE HEALED YOU. TRULY," it says, making me whip my head in its direction, the word 'healed' searing into my mind. "BUT YOU DID FOBID ME. ALSO, I REALLY DO NOT LIKE THE IDEA OF BEING BLAMED DURING ONE OF YOUR TANTRUMS FOR MY BENEVOLENCE." I don't realise my mouth is ajar until I feel the inside of my mouth drying out, moisture fleeing. I hear it click its tongue, saying, "NOW, DON'T YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, KERR."

"This is insane," I mutter to myself, struggling to a stand, my body is longing. I can feel my arms in my head, I feel. "You're insane."

"NOW—"

"TAKE ME HOME!" I scream, stumbling about. And it doesn't seem to matter which direction I whip my head in, I keep finding that thing before me once again, just watching. I can't seem to turn my back on it. "NO! No, no, no, am I dead?!"

"DEPENDS ON HOW YOU INTERPRET IT," it says in response, shrugging at me. I can feel the wind around us shift in motion with its gigantic body. "YOU DID TECHNICALLY DIE," it finishes, cackling mad at my hyperventilation.

"This—I don't believe it," I say, more to myself than the creature sat in front of me.

"WHAT IS THERE NOT TO BELIEVE?" It yawns, resting its head back on its hand, head slightly angled as it scratches at its unseen hair.

"I—"

"YOUR LAST BIRTH WAS A CLEAR FAILURE," it speaks bluntly, not waiting for me to try and grasp what it's saying. "I REFUSE TO PLAY IDLE AND TRY TO REASON WITH YOU LIKE A CHILD, KERR. I'M NOT MOTHER. IT'S TIME FOR YOUR BIRTH."

"Excuse me?" I deadpan. Birth? As in being pushed out by a woman. Birth birth?

Another rumble of laughter.

"HOW CRUDE. SUCH A CONCEPT EXCITING YOU, IS IT NOW?" it mumbles out of its laughter, waving its hand lazily about. I feel the world around us shudder and scream below and above us, tumbling and collapsing. Shit. "TSK. TSK. LET US HOPE THIS IS THE BIRTH WHICH ALLOWS YOU YOUR TRUE BODY, BROTHER."

And with that, everything goes black