Sometime, back then, in the time before time, in the place, where dreams were real, and reality didn’t have a place, I was born. At first, it was nothing, a moment, a fraction of a space, and then, thought, I started to understand things, I knew, dark, I knew nothingness. So, I started to create, inside my mind, I imagined others, like me, who lived, who spoke, who, kept me company. This went on for eons, centuries even, then, time was born, and everything changed. I grew tired of all the things I had created, I wanted something new, something different, so, I wiped the slate clean, extinguished all those I had given life, inside my head, into nothingness, then, I started again.
This time, I breathed life into new things, ideas I had from before, but changed them, made them something different, something, more playable. Over the course of time, I changed their form, made them stronger, smarter, and, in was, more like I was. Then they betrayed me, my random thoughts, my creations, they began worshiping false creators, false images, that I myself had not created, but, what they had. I tried to make them listen, you see, I loved these ideas, these things, I had given life. But, they, no longer loved me, they love another, one, I could not see, an idea, they had taken from something one of them had written, and, like I had to them, they gave it life, they created something new.
I heard his voice, sharp, deep, distorted, he wanted to talk, to discuss where we all stood, I banished him from my nothingness, wiped him from existence, but, somehow, he survived, within them, and once more, came to visit me, asking that we talk. I built wall, and armies to stop him, I tried all that I could, but, he always found a way through, so I eventually let him in, and spoke words with him, in the hope he would understand.
He told me, when he came, that I had created something wonderful, but, I had spent far to long manipulating things to the way I wanted, and that it was time to let it all go, let it be what it wants to be, not what I want it to. I told him that was impossible, that this was all mine, I had created it all, I was all powerful, and this world, their existence, all relied upon me, wishing it. He laughed and asked me to take a look, see what I had made, spend a day within the world, and see, then, if I was truly in control of it all.
“And how long ago was that?” The man asks, looking across the flame at him, his beard dirty, stained from cigarette smoke, and knotted, as are his clothes, which hang off him, dirty, ragged, unwashed, and the toothless girl he gives the man now, is a sneak preview of the stench that come from his mouth.
“Sixty two years ago, or more, I lose count of the days sometimes, but you see, he tricked me, made me come down here, inside my own head, that bastard played me for a fool, and there’s nothing I can do, there’s no way out, not unless I wake up, but that’s not going to happen, not now.”
“And what happened to the man, did you find out his name?”
“He called himself many names as I’ve found out, but you’d know his as the devil!”