Mr Creator

A young person is given the power to bend reality to their will and sets out to discover who they really are.

I know what I am. I can’t explain how I know, there’s was no eureka moment, no apple fell onto my head, no lightening struck my kite. I just woke up knowing. I know what I am, but I do not know who I am.

I know that I am but a character thought up in the mind of some being ultimately more complex and robust than I. Although, in a way, aren’t we all? We all seem to look up to some invisible force, larger than ourselves but utterly intangible. But in my world, I am the only one who knows this.

This entity, be it human or otherwise, apparently gives us life. It gives us our looks, our personality, even our memories. If you look back through the recesses of your mind, how can you be sure that the thoughts in there were actually once reality and not in fact things that were merely planted within your character? Images, sounds, video clips. These can all be played around with even by us, so why not some overwhelming, omnipotent soul?

I have been described as having black hair. I apparently like it messy. My eyes have been painted a full, dark, green colour. Perhaps because it was meant that I should see the world through jaded vision. It has been decided that I am of average height and average build. Simple and easy, no effort required. I like strawberries, rainbows, clouds, foxes, the smell of freshly cut grass. I dislike wasps, loud people, R&B music, the colour orange and the fruit which bears the same title. Simple things, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing defines me. And I know nothing else about myself.

That is why I wrote a letter. The letter was addressed to Mr or Mrs Creator. It asked for information, details about myself that would allow me to find my place in this world. It asked about my past, the little insignificant details that make up everyone’s personality. It asked about my future, my aspirations, my dreams, anything at all that would alleviate me from tedium and mediocrity and allow me to be the person I am and not the person someone else wants me to be. I folded the letter up and sealed it in an envelope but I did not know where I should put it. Just then a great gust of wind swept past me almost tearing the ground itself up and snatched the letter from my hands.

I thought it was a sign. A sign that a person should stray from the status quo, that everyone is doomed to merely act out their role in some tale for the amusement of a greater being. That night, if it should be called night, for who decided that night would occur? I went to bed disheartened and distraught and after much tossing and turning, I drifted off into the sweet distracting embrace of sleep.

The next morning I awoke with surprise thinking I had gone blind. I fumbled around in my bed, eventually falling and crashing to the floor with an almighty thud. It was then that I saw light. A piece of paper was taped to my forehead and now hung away from my face relieving me of my panic.

I peeled the paper off and read it while the stinging of my forehead subsided. It said;

Dear _____,

I understand your frustration and indeed your thirst for knowledge and vindication for your existence. I too often ponder what greater presences are out there and how they influence us and the world in which we live. However I shall not provide you with answers to your questions but instead I will bestow upon you the means to find them for yourself, I will give you free reign. You will henceforth have control over this story where you reside, within reason of course. Get out into the world and bend it to your will, discover yourself and the people around you. Good luck, I will keep in touch.

Yours sincerely, Mr Creator.

And so I decided not to let this opportunity slip through my fingers, and set out to explore the deep, limitless aspects of self that we all have but are often to afraid to traverse.

This is my story.

The End

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