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This is a story of a god, one you may not know the name of, one you may never know the name of. He wasn’t always a god, he was once a human like you and I, but things change, and there is nothing to stop destiny.
CHAPTER 1It might be a hundreds or so years before this story comes true, but I’m sure you all had consequences for crimes like murder as well, I’m sure you all also had false accusations, people who are innocent yet said to be guilty. I’m one of those people, accused of a crime, on July 28th, 2305, sentenced to a definite death. It showed up around 250 years ago or so, it came to destroy the human race, it took over the forest, protecting it from our pollution and our greed, it forced us into a town about 80 kilometers in diameter, taking over more of it every year. We can’t have any vegetation near it and it has to be guarded by thousands of people, although they’re more of used as an estimation on how far this beast eats into our town. A reminder of what we have done, what we have harmed, and what we have lost.
I was always a curious child, I was that kid that never shut up, that kid that wanted to know everything they could, especially history, the history of this planet was nearly unknown, everything lost to the forest. We learned bits and pieces, but without official records, I doubted a good chunk of it, mostly the things that seemed unreasonably realistic. It seems crazy that anything can be unrealistic when you have a super speed, murderous, flying beast that can kill a person within a blink of an eye, but crazy things still happen. And surprise to no one I became a historian, I worked at a museum, although it didn’t pay much and very few people cared, I still loved that job. “How was the shift” my coworker Jackal would ask nearly everyday,“Slow, as always”“Damn”“Hear about or find anything old lately?”“Ha, no”“How about any news about the beast?”“Just another guard dead”That was a typical conversation we had. In all reality, if I could read music notes I could recall to you the exact tones of his voice, but I can’t, and even if I could I probably wouldn’t. Jackal was like a brother I never had, one you could talk to about anything to, or you could sit in silence with him for hours and still never get bored of his presence.Today i sit at the front desk staring into the ceiling as if it were telling the most intriguing story in the multiverse, only a couple minutes till Jackal gets here;*Ding *DingI quickly take my feet off the esk to stare at the bell ringer, “hey, how may I,” I pause and stare at the person in front of me, a person in full guard wear and pointing a gun right at my face, I feel my heart skip a beat, “help you.”“You can help me by putting your hands behind your back and by getting into the cruiser.” I stare at them like a deer in the headlights, “I’m not going to ask again. Put your hands behind your back, and come with us willingly or there will be trouble.” I stand up and let them lead me to the car.
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THE COURT HOUSE3:15 pm, Saturday July 28, 2302
“I hear by sentence ye to 350 hours of community service.” From my research on the 2000s you might not be thinking much of that sentence, but in all reality it’s been hundreds of years, things have changed. Most people don’t last 100 hours out there. Any more than 250 and you know you’ve fucked up bug time. But 350, these people thought I was a devil sent from the depths from hell. Me. A man who works at a history museum, and has never purposely hurt anyone in my life. A man who has lived with his mother and never anywhere else. A man who at least believed that he was loved by this community. I stared in the judges eyes, and then the juries, and then my loved ones. Whatever I saw in myself, they no longer saw it, the man that was raised with care and attention was no longer there. The man that worked 45 hours a week at the history museum, the man that greeted everyone with a smile and a small wave might as well have never existed. The man that was living in this body was gone, and nothing would convince the people of this town
that I was a good person.
I suppose everyone wants to believe that people love them.