It was raining again. The rain cut like small cold knives on his skin, on his cheek that was still healing, the red ruddied bruises as the needle continued to prick inside him. He wished he could cover it, as he covered himself in his sweatshirt much like a shy and hurt tortoise, protecting himself from the cold wind that continued to stab him, with the sea that continued to lick a little at the bridge of the beach. It was a wet afternoon, a wet night, and he knew how much everyone seemed to say Seattle was nothing but a rainy city. A rainy, snowy, storming city that seemed to be the epitome of the swirling eye of God, his moods as he rages over the sea, over the city where most of His men sleep, and he wondered if Seattle was as debauched as Las Vegas or New York City, with God constantly watching, constantly crying, over the men who sinned so much, including him. Including Sonic, who was a god, who was just like God, who was now Yahweh, with his refracting mirrors and his wings that gleamed in the ample lights of the sun that continued to crawl towards them, his armor that was made with the whites of purity and the blues of sorrow, with the scales of the sea dragons and the teeth of men who have all sinned before him, the white fangs that become silver as the blood of all of his mortal enemies, the demons, continue to be shed on him. He now had a rod that was fashioned out of the same material as his armor, with the gems of sapphires, with an orb that seemed to contain so much power, the orb where all his powers lied. He wasn't sure what he could exactly do with this rod, but he figured soon he would be able to find out, as Shadow was now with him, sniffing out the scent of demons, their skin always smelling like singed hairs and singed organs. It was their mission, Chip said, to find any demon eggs that were lain across the city, and to smash them before the demon could get out and wreck on the lives of humans, without knowing a little of what they were doing or what they were seeing with their blind deaf and dumb eyes.
Sonic wondered if the whole entire world could see him. A bright, shining, powerful god. His parents would be so proud, if they cared at all for him. They probably cared more for the white wines and Merlots, and the men with the gattling guns who were going to war to stop terrorists. They cared more about these somewhat trivial things than him, a god who could protect them, who could decide on their death like the drop of rain.
And he wondered if his brother was alive with them, if he couldn't see them. He would be at his typewriter, or his laptop, coughing and hacking so much phlegm, writing more of his novel. And his parents would read what he wrote and smile at him with so much gleam and happiness that they would completely forget that Sonic was gone, that even his school, that even the government, wouldn't notice. Sonic disappeared off the face of the Earth without a trace, and no one in the world barely noticed or care. He knew that being a god was the only thing he could be. His life was only amounted by average grades, bored parents, bored teachers, bored friends, and boring talents. He could belch the alphabet when he drank an entire can of Mountain Dew. He was a little good at football and soccer, but not enough to be accepted on the school's teams. He could sing a little, but not enough to be accepted into choir. He only had little talents, little sparks of flame, but they weren't enough to strike the match. They weren't enough to burn down the whole world. So he could only become a god and burn the world in all of his power, while the humans barely cared or noticed about their own Earth. Humans only fretted about things when they lost them, they realized that they couldn't last without them in their meaningless lives, but if the world was gone, they wouldn't fret about that. They would go into another meaningless life as brain dead amoeba on another planet, and carry out their coffee drinking, traveling and cursing and sex fiendish ways, and even God wouldn't bat an eye about it, except that He was lonely, and He was sad when he had no one to watch or help. That was why He created people and animals. Because God couldn't imagine standing in this great big void like ourselves, as we kissed the night every day, with no friends or families to see us (or so this writer would assume, if she was caring more to the people outside of her world). He made us in our image, and like Him, we get lonely too, standing in this great big void of a world. And Sonic felt that way. He felt everything was a void, and that he was only making a leap across it, but he wasn't sure if he could make it. He wasn't sure if he could land on the big black cliff that was crafted like a gem of onyx and live another voided life, or he would fall and be forgotten even among gods. And he soon learned with Shadow that gods knew of every life, of every second, of every minute, of every hour, wasted and consumed and birthed and no longer existing and dead and gone, they were like heartbeats as they learned of all the lives and time that passes and given into, and Sonic thought he would go crazy, learning of every baby being born under the stars and having their heart beat with them in time, or of a disaster striking a nation he had to learn the name of and of every life that was burned into ashes and disappearing under a cloud of smoldering smoke, and of every child cradled, of every dead body being buried into the earth and having his heart not beat along with theirs, and of every snake that hissed and swallowed, of every dog that barked, of every tap on the keyboard of computers, it was like he could hear the whole world pitter and patter and shout and whisper and cry and sing, and he thought it was so crazy to have ears that could hear everything, ears that had eyes inside them that could see everything, ears that had fingers that they could feel everything, and of having eyes and ears attuned to all of the world and to know everything and to know of every man who was telling a secret you were supposed to not know and of every man who shits and of every man cheating and of every man masturbating, it was all insanity to him, and he could only close his eyes as the rain continued to pour over him, as he sat and touched the scepter he was given when he became a god, and he could see Shadow in the distance, with his tin and rusted feathers and his raven eyes that had the same color of fires and garnets. He thought he was listening in on the thoughts of the demons that roamed the earth and he thought he could sense it whenever they would lay an egg somewhere in this sinful city, the one where God constantly cried and raged in, as the sea cried and raged with Him, as Sonic thought he would cry and rage in too, as he could hear of how many humans were pathetic and beautiful and holy and dark, and it seemed unfair to him, of how much life was in such vivacity, to just sign a contract, one that sealed his life, and his brother's when he was a god, so long ago.
He coughed and could see more spittle in his hacks, and he wondered if he was becoming sick too. That gods could catch colds. That they could catch cystic fibrosis.
Maybe his brother was in a place he wouldn't think of being in, but he didn't think of that. He didn't even think of it as his nose continued to stream and his lungs seemed to be wet like the rain. He only thought of asking Shadow questions, about the demons, of what they looked like, of why they wanted to ravage the world, of how to fight them. It was the only thing he could think of caring about at the moment. He was a god, and he had enough of worrying about every life that entered and left the world.
"And what are demons exactly, Shad?" Sonic asked. "What color are they? Why do they want to take this world from us? Is the Bible right about them all along? Why does Chip want them gone? Who is Chip exactly?"
He could hear him no matter how far apart they were, as even the raven god could hear everything in the world, even if no one seemed to believe in a trickster Indian god anymore.
"I don't know who Chip is either. All I know is that he is a creature not of this Earth, and that he wants to help humans, even if it just seems like a burden to him. He says that he has a vision that is more capable than the humans, that he could see so much more in the world, including colors that humans could never see, of shapes we never have heard of, of things we can't even imagine because our brains are not capable. He may look cute, but he is wise, and he can see of how many demons roam the lands, and he gave us that power too, because it is demons who give us our grief and our anger and our pain, it is demons who cause tragedies and deaths and all the horrid things some see everyday. Chip says the world needs a few demons, and some are in fact good for humans, but there are some that are unneeded and will only cause unnecessary pain and suffering, because demons reproduce and don't care of whether their young are useful to the world or not. They just want sex. They just want pleasure. And sometimes we have to rid of the world of some demon eggs that are laid in various places throughout the city, in our own zone, because if unattended to, many human lives could be at risk. And even if it seems like some lives are not as useful as the demons we let live, we can't let them go from us when it is unnecessary. I know how crazy you seem to be with the heart inside you that knows everything about the humans and knows everything about the time and place, but Chip says the world needs to be in perfect order, that the world has to be functioning like clockwork, else the world will fall into chaos, and he will feel as if he has failed the humans. Chip is a timekeeper, and every second has to be of some use to this planet, and if not, he goes ballistic on us, even if we seem to waste only one second. All demons are different and have various sizes and shapes and faces, some menacing, some that look barely harmful until you get into their bad side when you try to kill it. And as for the Bible you were surely fed to when you were a child, we can say that they are correct about a few things and not about others, much like the entire book is itself. I'm sure you've eaten shellfish, right? In Leviticus you can go to hell if you do, but that's only because of how society was. Maybe people got sick when they ate shellfish. Maybe it made them crazy. Maybe demons were born whenever someone ate shellfish and shit it out, who knows? The only thing I can tell you for sure is that now that you're a god, the only one you can listen to is Chip, and you better please him, or it'll just go downhill from there. And you wanted a better life, right? And you wanted a new skin, an exciting life, right? Then listen to me too, because even though Chip isn't exactly fond of me, I know of a few things he doesn't know, and he hates it. But whatever you do, don't piss him off. Else you're dead. And forever dead. Much like your brother was, until you wished for him to be brought back. And you said you were average, that not even your parents cared? Then no one is going to wish you back. Not even me, not even Quetzal when he's hungry."
It was a sad fact, but he knew it was true. Not a single man would mourn him. Everyone except his brother, but he would die before he could be a god again. He most likely didn't want to become one, he would only write out his sorrows and escape the life he used to lead, the one with his mother drinking waterfalls made from Merlot and his father watching CNN for 18 hours a day, only taking breaks to eat, shit, and sleep.
The city began to become more alive as the sun shifted towards the Earth and sunk down, deeper into its primordial star-studded dip for the moon to awaken, to lift its crystal-sharded eyelids from his eyes. The moon was yet another object of both God's, and the humans, affection, as it is often a symbol of beauty, a symbol of the reawakening of life, darker, sinister, full of thought, full of sin. And as the moon awakened, as it yawned and burst forth the stars and the city lights and the wolves and the raccoons, so did the people awaken, for the nightlife inside Seattle. They went to clubs, to have their minds brood of a spectrum of colors they never could think in in the morning as they thought about their art and why no one appreciated it when they went to the poetry readings and the late night art galleries, and the moon was only a wicker of wax, a single white flame glowing to Seattle, as more people grew hungry, more people grew vivid, more people grew full of lust and full of pride, and the night shone also with its red and yellow and green orbs of light that gathered around the streets, the lanterns to the melancholy of the city, and as more people surrounded the building they were perched on, Sonic grew lonelier, more miserable, as he could imagine the thousands of people that came towards them now, blind and deaf and dumb as they were, reaching out with them with their pale moon-fleshed arms, and Sonic thought the world wanted to see him choke, wanted to see him die of the sadness he gathered inside him ever since he grew to be 8 years old, the sadness of parents only caring about a brother who was so much better than you, of being nothing noteworthy, to be as insignificant as the single dust that flew with the wind, as it spoke to him and kissed him to heal him of the lonely days that were long gone past. But the humans, even if he became of the most powerful god of this Earth, they would never fully acknowledge him, only know of his miracles, to believe in him, but to never see his face, to have his existence be proved wrong by many antagonistic Darwin loving soporific brainfelt atheists as they only had to say a few words to prove their points to the believers who seemed so stupid and unwise. But to Sonic, to not believe nowadays seemed to have no imagination, no hope, no wonder, and he, even with his sadness and negativity as he cried out in his wrenching heart about the miseries he withstood for what seemed to be so long, he believed that the moon had a great face, and that it was a creature of God's design, to give light and luminance to the things we often do not see when everything is pitch black, as dark as the chasm to Hell.
But yet he wanted to talk to the people who probably believed in him, to give them hope, because he barely had any before he realized of his dream to help people, to be the guiding lantern in so many people's smog-filled lives, to feel their heartbeats resonate with joy and their hands as they created rivers of paint, rivers of words, rivers of numbers, rivers of sounds, but Shadow knew exactly what he was thinking as he heard these thoughts all the time with foolish gods, and he thought with the telepathy that only gods themselves could understand as their minds were attuned to everything, and he said as his hands shifted through the muck of his mind, the black sludge that Shadow thought was only hope gathering in his brain like moss to a rock in a algae-infested pond, I already told you, being a god is a lonely business. Because you can't talk to any humans while we're doing our job. We can't make friends with them, socialize with them, we can't do anything with them unless they send you a prayer you must answer, but even then, you have to be quiet about it. Gods shift like shadows, they have to be silent in all their movements, all their actions, because they can know a little about our stories, our mythology, but they can never know the real truth about us, because they would lose their mind. Trust me, I know. I can't tell you anything about it, because you're only a bored sap who only wanted this job because his parents apparently never cared about you. I know more than there is to know, and the Earth thinks that's dangerous. We're only the light as we hit the windowpane, the black bars separating the humans to know our true organs. The true organs and the true beating heart of the sun and light.
His heart. It beat faster. It drummed with the sounds of a thousand booms, a thousand beats, a thousand jolts of electricity, as if a thunderbird has risen in his heart, spread its great white frosty veined wings and continued to jolt his heart, bringing it to life with the shocks of its jagged fingertips, and it shuddered, and he could feel it moving upwards towards his throat as he saw the great big white flash in the metallic sky, as he could see the white fangs of God, the thunder and lightning beginning to awaken from the mouth of Rage and Envy. Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump. It beat, faster, faster than he could possibly move with his shoes made of the greatest leather and the wings of Hermes, and his nostrils was filled with the smell of singe, the smell of fire and brimstone, as he could see the dark shapes of the demons from far off in the land decaying in the light, as they prepared their beastly bodies to have hateful and passionate and mournful sex, as he could hear their maniacal cackles along with the crackles of the steel sky, and he thought he could hear the sound of wings flapping, the feathers of electricity as they crackled and boomed and singed off the bird that was gliding in the sky, with his mercury filled eyes that were like the silvers of splashing water, with a scream that Shadow told him in his telepathy that could sear the flesh off your skin from their sheer power, their sheer explosions of their voices, and Shadow knew of the coordinates of where the demon egg would soon be laid, and of the god who was seeking him, because he was hungry for the chance to have more folklore in his system, to have more shimmer and gleam in his feathers as they shined and screamed at the eyes, and Shadow told him of this god, this god that was supposedly his rival, along with a hoodlum sister who he protected, and his brother who was also a thunderbird, but ran away to achieve some higher purpose in being a god. And what exactly was that higher purpose Shadow didn't know. He hadn't seen him in years since that night he fought the thunderbirds, the night where his life nearly went out like a flutter and flash and wisps of smoke like the breath against the candle.
He could only think to himself that there was some action now, some drama to all this lonely business, but he heeded Shadow's words that being a god was a tricky and lonely business, and maybe he wouldn't grow to like this either. But it was still better than living an insignificant life were you where constantly in your younger brother's shadow.
"I found out his real name was Storm. Of course, I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and to not say his name so early, but he is a very cocky, very useless god among our ranks, but yet he's still alive, collecting almost as much folklore as I am. He has a sister named Wave, who actually didn't choose to become a god, but decided to follow her brothers and take care of them instead. Their brother who ran off from them was named Jet, and he was a thunderbird too, just as bad as Storm, more cocky even, more willing to risk the lives of the humans simply for their own gain. They don't care as long as they keep living. They don't care as long as they are still powerful gods among this earth, and yet despite all of this Chip considers them better gods than I am. Simply because I warn of newcomers of what there's to come when they sign the contract. Luckily for us however, Storm is very stupid and gullible, and if we manage to not have his sister tell him any better (as his sister, although a hoodlum, seems to possess a near genius IQ when it came to common sense and street smarts). The demon is marked at the Waterfall Garden farther off here, and if we can get there quickly with our godlike abilities, I'm sure we can stop him before he feasts upon that egg. And besides, it's time for you to enter your first battle, Sonic. And you will learn that even with all this power, all this strength inside of you, you can still taste pain. You can still taste defeat and utter disappointment."
He revealed his metallic wings, spread as wide as the moon's glowing hands as it reached across the horizon, leaving a blue tint in the black tapestry of the night, his wings the silver glint like the stars inside the night's mouth, the silver teeth that lied adjunct inside its yellow green and red insides and the gray and yellow tongue that tasted of the people that walked beyond him, into the mistress of the night, into the lure of dreams and sex and sweat and ideas that were born under the white neon light that said, "Open, and welcome to the dark world of the Night, and we hope you can stay and not sleep until the dawn comes with her rosy fingers, and she begs you to stay up to the soft pink glow of the morning. Not so my friends, not so. We shall stay up all night, and stare at the stars as they watch us, until they stab us of all of our sins, and our blood lies awake in the darkness' tongue, lapping it all up like a kitten drinking and mewling away at her milk. A harsh mistress we shall beg on and pray, the only mistress we ever listen to, as her face shines like pearls and her eyes the clear glassy sapphires that command us to fuck, steal, and kill. The only queen we shall listen to, instead of the rosy cheeked morning. Fuck her, and fuck the sun, we shall only listen and lie awake as the stars stab us again and again."
He could see the sharp jabbing lightning ahead as Sonic flew with his newly birthed star studded wings that he learned stabbed the demons of the night, oh how sharp they were, how angular as they looked upon the people who fucked killed and stole, how shrunken and saddened their faces were as their blood spilled on the carpet of the god's House, but they were only men who sinned, men who no longer were going to heaven, and so Sonic left them be as his wings stabbed at the men who cried and moaned and wished their sadness would be sucked away from their souls, their blue and black hearts as bruised as their bodies, their eyes as clear as their criminality, as they cried on what they used to be, and he could see the thunder bird's wings shuttering and shuffling and flashing and sparkling like glitter with the flash of grenades, they boomed and laughed and exploded across the night, as the rain began to get much harder, God's tears running across their bodies, as He cried about the men who sinned too, and He wished to use the thunder and lightning as handkerchiefs, but they were sharp and as fluid as the scars on Sonic's cheek, as it bled again.
And he coughed yet more bloody phlegm, the little drops of blood dripping down from the sky. It was like the rain that was crying from the sky. And he hoped no one got his blood on their head, because he thought this disease he contracted would've spread to the human world like a fire in a toy factory. Millions would be dead, simply because of one drop from the sky. Everyone would get cystic fibrosis, the same disease that claimed his brother, wherever he was, alive and well (hopefully).
—
The Waterfall Garden sparkled in the moonlight and the lanterns the glowed with an amber ire at the entrance, Sonic watching as the people barely cared to notice them entering the park in the late hours of the night (but of course the humans could barely know what the gods look like or what they're even doing, as said time and time again in this story, and in Sonic's mind, that they were all deaf and dumb and blind and only listening to the Night's chorus as they all lived the life of debauchery and sin and only followed the glow of the moon than the shadows of the gods as they watched and waited on their footsteps), Shadow opening the gates with his godly powers, the quiet of the night stifling and the frosty air chilling them as it continued to pour, as it continued to blaze with white flames in the sky, as it continued to crackle and boom. Sonic could smell the waterfall as they entered the park, the metallic smell of white water rushing from the crevices of the park, and other than the rain, the only sound that was audible was the roaring of the water, as it bared its white liquid fangs at them and as they got closer they got wet, but they knew that it would only melt away in the god's light in a few minutes, as it continued to stream forth on its very many white and sharp and wet feet, rushing and running and stumbling over the rocks and into the pool below them, where they could see the black egg floating discreetly. The demons were having sex underwater, (possibly mermaid demons Shadow thought to himself) and the black egg that looked much like a flea's was bobbing up and down, with the marks of Hell so clear in the moon's light that Shadow knew this was the demon egg they were searching for, and he walked into the mouth of the waterfall to pick it up. He stared at the sky, seeing the metallic skin rumble and roar and nearly bleed in the white pus that the thunderbird could summon with its screams and cries, and he knew that soon, it was going to be a battle, as they couldn't run anymore, and the thunderbird was coming, in so few seconds. He simply rolled the egg gently in his fingers, wanting to crush it underneath them, as he didn't need the thunderbird to come here. He didn't need anyone to come here. Just Sonic and himself, waiting for the god's to go away under the moon, under the breath of the skies as it continued to cry and sniffle and moan as the rain continued to beat on their bodies and the thunderbird's fire glowing discreetly, the boom crackle flash as he could see the egg wavering as his fingers tried to reduce it to rubble and dust, and Sonic could hear his heartbeat booming much like the thunder, he could hear it shuffling and shuddering and sighing under the wake of the thunderbirds.
Boom…thump thump thump…BOOM…thump thump thump…
The thunder was in rhythm with the heartbeats of the world, with everyone's coffee-streamed hearts as they went to the cafes and talked about their ideas, and before Sonic could say anything about his heart, before he could warn Shadow about the rise of the eve of the thunderbird, he could hear the cinders of the sky and the flapping of wings above them, the wicked fiery laughter and the mercury-rimmed eyes as it scanned the horizon and saw both of the hedgehogs in the garden, just lollygagging and not doing the important works of gods, and it only wanted to laugh at how much time they were wasting, on how they tried to find the egg before he could, but nothing could outrun a thunderbird (as their wings could fly at the speed of light, much like lightning), and with the white flames of its beak crying out to the moon, ready to pull it towards the flames of Hell, it flapped and glided towards them, the white sparkle of its feathers visible in the light, the skinny and bone-like legs as they stretched and scratched the rocks with white thin lines that looked much like cocaine, the bird grinned with razor sharp flaming fangs and it said to them, with a voice that reeked of nails and screeches:
"Hi Yetl. Want me to pound you again so I can get my folklore and you can get yelled at by Chip again? Chip always liked me more than any other god out here, and he will always like me more than you. Why don't you give up on trying to reach these demon eggs before me? You know that thunderbirds are faster than crows. They've always been faster than crows. I've always been faster than you, and nothing is going to change that fact!"
"Oh shut up, idiot. I was here trying to get Yahweh his first folklore but since you came in here I'm going to have to teach you a lesson again. I don't care about Chip's approval. I try to warn people what they're getting into before they become gods, but apparently Yahweh never listened to my words. So he's here with me, and you better take it easy on him, because he doesn't know anything about his powers. It's time for you to teach him, before I fry you and make you into fried chicken."
The thunderbird laughed, and Sonic could feel his skin being pulled back with long, slender fingers, and he tried to keep them there, as he needed his skin. He needed to live. He needed to not show his organs, how disgusting and black they were, to this world.
"You're going to teach him about being a god? I never got to learn from a battle. I just tested them out. But this god looks weak, and I'm sure I'll make him dead before you can say anything about it. I'll teach you what it's like to be a god little man, and I'll have you know that the life is fun, not some life of misery and pain like this idiot would tell you. Chip says he doesn't know anything. He doesn't know a damn thing in his little black and red head of his."
Sonic had heard enough. He wound up his fist and prepared to strike the thunderbird on its mouth that gleamed of white sharp knives, but the bird disappeared like the shadows in the cloaks of night, his knivving teeth still apparent in the darkness, its mercury eyes still visible in his vision, and he laughed as he could feel his skin bleeding and cracking and wounding, and he said, "It's going to take more than that to defeat me! I'm faster than anyone in this world, Yahweh. I'm faster than Yetl even, and I will show you that I'm the most powerful god around. Chip said that to me, and I will prove it to all of you!"
The bird sprung forth lightning from its wing tips, streams and veins of white flames heading towards them, as the bird disappeared in a waver of light, the mercury still plastered in their minds, the bone chicken-like feet running across the world with his wings flapping and singeing the air. Sonic could smell the burnt leaves as this thunderbird struck the trees in the garden, black, wrung like black coils of ropes, decayed and burnt and dead.
Shadow reached into his belt, the light shining off his tinned armor, and he unloaded one of his guns and aimed at the silver eyes, and Sonic could hear it clicking against the black walls of the night as he fired two rounds into the sky, the sparkled streaming light exploded and vanishing and sucking up all the material and oxygen like little black holes in the galaxies as he could hear a boom and an explosion nearly louder than the thunderbird taking the skies apart, and he could see the silver eyes as they flashed away from the decimated night air and the bird laughed and shrieked and glided towards Shadow in light's speed. His eyes flickering and his sharp white knives pointing towards him and his wings crackling and singeing and booming and crickling and the bird's bone legs reached out towards Shadow's eyes, like little ornate daggers made in the Indian times, and he wished he could take them and stab Shadow's eyes and make them even more blood red as he scratched his head and made him bleed in thin little red lines, and he cursed and shouted and fired yet another round into the bird. The bird shrieked again, as he could feel the star's hot white flames into his feathers and skin, but the lightning and thunder protected his beauty.
The bird glided awkwardly towards the waterfall (one of his wings in pain from the star's burst), and he could feel the sting of the gun's fire, but he simply could make it disappear if he thought more on his anger against the hedgehogs. He lit a lighter under the sky, the steel becoming white and corroded as he summoned more electricity in the sky, ready to burn down the whole world, and Sonic held his scepter as it glowed into the moon's light, absorbing all the lanterns and all the light from the bird's wings. He could see the blue gem ready to shine the whole world in its great aquamarine arms and he didn't know what to do really, as he was only a novice god who was just born unto the world who didn't know a thing about his powers or his abilities or anything as the night cried and the rain continued to drip and cut him and his fur was streaked with the gray water, and he could see the thunderbird's silver eyes as they rose in the night air and tried to attack the raven again who continued to shoot off his rounds into the bird's face, and he wished he knew what could unlock the scepter's power, to blast the bird from the sky, to protect Shadow as he knew he was starting to…starting to…
The scepter continued to glow under the hot amber light, with the cool gem that was florescent and seemed to mix in with the gold and the blue into a deep emerald green, and he thought on the thoughts he has been thinking in a long time, the thoughts he couldn't think with the high speed of the day, the high speed of the life as a god, and he only closed his eyes and felt the rain pet him, felt the rain stroke him and tell him that the world was a better place than what he thought, as he could hear a voice echo into his streams inside his brain, and he thought it sounded familiar. He thought it sounded like a distant family member. Someone familiar. Someone he had known all his life.
I didn't want to be here in the first place. You just didn't felt right with your body, with your organs. And I didn't felt right with my voice. Make the world cry about you as much as you want, but the world will never change for you. The world will never change for you…or for me…
He flapped his wings and targeted the silver eyes in the air, the bird crackling and singeing and laughing and smirking with his teeth like sharp white pallid needles, and he held onto the glowing scepter as it contained some sort of unknown power inside it, and the world moved in blurs. The black and red turned to smears, the white and silver were streams of metal in the air, and he held his teeth with his tongue and he held his pupils with the white liquids of his eyes and he could see the thunderbird about to bring down yet another streak from the sky, yet another white glowing artery from God to burn down more of his life, to burn down more of his gods, and he put the scepter near its earholes and he smiled with his rickety teeth and his rickety skin that his scars soon turned into a smirk by the same slender fingers that wished to peel his skin back…
No longer will you fly the skies and burn down everything. No longer will you be the flames of the moon, the flames of the sun, the flames of the stars. No longer will you treat my friend to your vanity, to your lies, to your stupidity. It's time for you to go back to your home, to your hoodlum little dirty home where rats like you belonged. I don't want to see your face again…I don't want to see your face again…I don't want to see your face again…
His voice echoed through the fragments of space, through the fragments of the waterfall as it streamed on their wings, as it made their fur wet and slick and the bird's silver eyes poked and saw that the scepter shot a light that shined like the water in a river, green and crystal and opulent as Shadow could hear the scepter shot that screeched and cried across the skies, across the worlds, across the purgatories and Hells of the world.
The thunderbird's white flaming feathers were singed. There was only pink fleshy skin where it remained, and the mercury-rimmed eyes were only small and blue with a pupil, and the bone-like legs became booted feet as the bird fell into the waterfall, and the streams launched itself with its white feet and made him drenched through all his feathers, and Sonic could only gaze at him as if he was naked and translucent, that the bird Storm showed his real form, and he wasn't happy with the outcome of the battle. He could only cry with his knifed beak and know he was beaten by a newbie as his scepter was strong and capable of bringing down a god in a single shot, and with what? What could make the scepter have this power? He didn't know, and he only lied in the water, in the clear translucent, naked water, and he could only think of his defeat, and look at the hedgehog, the newfound god that he knew he had to despise.
And what is your name, young one?
Storm. I called myself that. I called myself Storm.
Do you have any parents? Where are they? They must surely care about you.
They don't. They left me here in the streets, and I survived because my sister cared more about me than anyone else I know. My brother however, I don't know where he's at. I never knew where he's at. He's a cold brother. A brother made of ice.
Why did he leave your sister?
They had arguments. They didn't like each other much. He wanted to be more powerful than any god in the world. He wants to be in the stars just like the Greek gods. He wants to be remembered for all eternity. He wants to be remembered for everything he did to this world.\
And what did he do to this world?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He could see the blue hedgehog staring at him with his jade eyes in the water that was covering him to hide his embarrassment, shining in the light. The sun was beginning to rise up, the rosy-fingered dawn beginning to seek the humans that still had no sin, had no debauchery in their lives, and who lied awake to greet the morning.
Sonic rolled the demon egg in his hands before it suddenly cracked like an egg, and the red liquid seeped into his hands, into the gem he carried in his hands. His folklore, his first one, was replenished, and he was a little stronger, a little more ready to fight the other gods. And this was his first fight too, which he felt proud, as bristling and loud as thunderbird's thunder and lightning.
The red blood of the demon soon disappeared, and he wound his hand to his fist, as he tightened them and stared at the bird who called himself Storm, the so-called thunderbird that would defeat the raven Yetl. His feathers and body was drenched as he removed himself from the new set of clothes he thought would protect him for a little while, he stared at the two hedgehogs with his small blue eyes and could only wish he won, as he knew his folklore was soon running out, and he couldn't be going to Hell, not with the promise he made to his sister. Not with the promise he made to see his family who was probably nonexistent for all he knew.
"Yeah yeah, I lost! What else do you guys want? I didn't know that Yahweh guy was so strong, but now you can leave me alone! I'm not going to bother any of you guys anymore until I can get more demon eggs, without seeing you Shadow. You're always trouble. Chip told me that too. He says you're always trouble and you always bring trouble with you. Just like the crows in Indian times. Just…just shut up!"
"We didn't even say anything, Storm. You got yourself in this mess in the first place, and all I want you to do is leave this place before I change my mind and decide to destroy you and your folklore. I've had enough of you and your sister trying to terrorize the other gods into giving you the demon eggs when you don't deserve them. Let them deal with the demons themselves instead of bullying them. And maybe then you can become powerful without being a nuisance like the rest of these gods can be."
He knew he should've said nothing more and flew away from these gods, but his first instinct was to taunt them, as he still believed he was the most powerful god of them all, but he only couldn't find the demon eggs faster than the others to not engage in a battle with them, as he was only weak because he couldn't find enough folklore. He was only weak because other people bullied him. Other people constantly told him how stupid he was, how thunderbirds were the weakest gods in Indian folklore. The only one who seemed to care about him was his sister, gods and goddesses bless her heart, wherever she was right now.
"Oh yeah? Well maybe I'll find more of these demon eggs myself, and I'll be able to destroy you, Shadow! I'll make sure Chip is happy when you're dead, because you know he never cared about you. He says I'm the most powerful god there is, and…"
With the flutter of black wings and the laughter of the wind, there was nothing. Nothing. Not even a hack or sputter from Sonic and not even Shadow telling him that he was an idiot and he was always wrong. They left before he could tell them of how wrong they were, and he knew that Shadow never stayed long to listen to his speeches, but he always had the instinct to say them anyways. If only his instincts would stop. They made a fool out of him every time. Spiders always listened to their instincts to make a web, and it was a piece of art. But his instincts always got him into trouble. If a spider had shitty instincts, it would be eaten by birds like him all the time.
He could hear the seagulls beginning to awaken as they flew over the Seattle skyline, ready to find more meals to scavenge. He fed them sometimes, because he was close to them. His sister told him not to, that they didn't need food and they were only nuisances, but he felt he could relate to them. They were a lot like him. Drifting around, trying to fit in with this life, trying to find as much food as he could before they would die. He felt bad for them. And he wished he wasn't a god anymore but he could live among the seagulls, and find a new purpose in life, much like Jonathan Livingston seagull did. He never told anyone that. Not even his sister. He often looked in their black tunnels of their eyes and saw hope and vivacity that he thought he could never see in anyone else's. But Sonic's eyes…those green fires that continued to burn and that singed as much as his wings when they were imbued with electricity. There was something about them that made him wonder…if he…if he was more than an ordinary god. That something was going to happen between the two of them. He wasn't sure, but he couldn't stand Shadow being stronger than him, simply because he had someone who was so gifted at being a god, a born prodigy.
And he flew off, as the blue of night was opening up, as the lid of bright golden rosy-cheeked dawn began to open, and he could see the sun as it rose in the sky, saying hello to him. But he never said hello back. He only ignored it and waited for the mistress of the moon to rise again.