"A Warning" by Crista Whyte

            ‘Push me, pull me, throw me down. Do as you will. I have no control. I sit, perched, upon a mountain, gazing down past a thin layer of cloud, to see my creation crawl to my height. My feet are weary, my eyes blur with sadness. Born of me to be separated at birth, to inch towards your view of freedom. And what am I? I am your maker, your parent, your father. I am your God…’

            Someone cleared their throat behind Toro. Paused in a questioning expression, Toro turned slowly, feet shuffling through the grass of the hill he stood on. With eyes wide, he came upon a man, exquisitely tall, with long silver hair and living green eyes.

            “It’s a nice speech,” the man said. His voice was like a graceful waterfall and a howling wind all at once. He put an arm around Toro and turned him so that they stood side by side. “Though, I think it’s missing something.” He kept holding on to Toro’s shoulder as he gazed endlessly to the sky.

            “Oh?” Toro asked.

            “The first bit, that was lovely,” the man said. “Pushed and pulled, like a child being tormented. I’m not so sure about getting thrown down, however.”

            “No?” Toro said. He looked up to the man and blinked.

            The man stretched his free arm out before them, and spanned the sky with his fingertips. “Gods cannot be thrown down by mere mortals, lad,” the man said.

            “But mama said…”

            “Gods cannot be thrown down by mere mortals,” the man restated.

            “Oh,” Toro said sadly. He looked down to the ground and tried to shrug out of the man’s hold. But the man grasped his shoulder harder.

            “Now,” the man continued. “’Do as you will. I have no control’. I like it. It holds suitable irony, a contrast between emotion and true power. Like a disguise.” He then looked to Toro, who looked back complacently. The man stared at him until Toro gave in and smiled. Then the man gave a sharp, satisfied nod. “The rest of it needs work. Too vague, I’m afraid.”

            “What would you say?” Toro asked sulkily.

            The man smiled and stepped forward. A wind picked up as soon as he did, throwing his silver hair back like river rapids. He wore a long white coat with green border designs, and white pants underneath. He cleared his hands of his sleeves with a shake, and his long fingers danced.

            “Push me, pull me, abuse the power I have given,” he began. He spoke loudly, and his voice seemed to echo backwards towards Toro. “I am your God but you look upon me as nothing. I am your maker; I have molded your flesh from earth, your dreams from stars. And what is the kindness you have shown? Neglect me, forget me, disbelieve in my ultimate power. I think not. You are the children,” he bellowed, and turned to face Toro. His eyes blazed with green fire. “I am the creator. My law must be obeyed,” he said, and started towards Toro. He stopped a few inches away from Toro and looked down into his eyes. “You cannot defy the Gods. To try will mean death.”

            Shivers ran through Toro, but he couldn’t look away. He stood, looking up, mesmerized by this man’s words. Death? Could it be? Only when the man took a step back was Toro released. He stumbled back and wanted to run.

            “That is what a God would say,” the man said. “And a true God would say it to the face of his creation, not hiding upon a mountain.”

            “It… it’s really good,” Toro said, vigorously nodding his head.

            The man laughed. Openly and loudly, he threw his head back and roared.

            “Oh, poor child,” he said, still with a hint of laughter in his voice. “You fear me as if I were a God.”

            “A…are you?” Toro asked. His heart beat rapidly. He could see his village down at the bottom of the hill, small plumes of smoke rising into the air. He’d been raised to believe that men were essentially alone in the universe, that the Gods did nothing more than watch.

            The man’s eyes lit again with green fire and his smile was absolutely sinister. “A true God never reveals their nature,” he said smoothly.

            Toro stood in silence then, looking every which way, wondering if that was his cue to leave. He started digging the tip of his boot into the ground. He waited for some sign or permission to leave.

            “Let me tell you a secret,” the man said playfully, walking in a circle around Toro, who scrunched his limbs tight together. “Once, a long time ago, someone tried to defy a God. They thought the power given to them gave them the right to proclaim themselves mighty. They used their power to deceive, to manipulate, to use others of their same stature. All men are equal. The Gods know it. But he… he played to make it not so.

“Now, all men have gifts. To grow, to mend, to harvest, to procreate. The man I speak of used all four to outdo his fellows and leave them lifeless in their dusty cornrows. Equality meant nothing to him, for he strived to be like the Gods. He strived to be above all men. And do you know what happened to him?”

Toro shook his head. The man stood beside him, facing away over the hill.

“He got his wish,” the man answered. “The Gods gave him immortality, to wander the world as selfishly as he chose. And for years it seemed to be the greatest gift he ever could have asked for. But then, slowly, the feeling crept upon him. The feeling of loneliness, sadness, the realization that he would be doomed to wander the earth eternally, and gain nothing from it. He couldn’t stay in a town forever, because mortals would soon see that he was not like them. He lived while others died. He had thousands of names, one after another, a rotation he had to keep a memory of. Love flew past him like migrating birds. They would not stop for his self possessing ways.”

The man looked back to Toro, his eyes somewhat dampened, a trail of sadness on his face. “Pretend to be the Gods, and one day it might come true. But you will rue the day, child,” he said. “You will plead for mercy, for the promise of death. You will beg to be like them again, innocent and caring. But you never will be. The immortal flame will burn inside you, driving you on an endless journey around the world as many times as endless allows.” He paused, taking a long breath. He blinked a few times, flexed his hands.

“Who are you, sir?” Toro asked. For some reason, he found an inkling of compassion for this strange man.

“You will not find my name in the book of Gods,” the man replied. “At least, not any name that I would give you.”

And then the man began to leave, walking slowly down the hill, in the opposite direction of the town. The pale sky was low overhead, darkening in the distance. A glimmer of the moon could be seen in the sky, barely there, signaling night’s descent.

For a moment, Toro stood still. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Then he frowned, turned, and ran down the hill a little, in the hopes of catching a sight of the mysterious man. But the man was gone.