‘The desire to live, is it evil? Choosing between one's life and another's may seem a bit bleak when one imagines it, but when it is stripped down to the bone and suddenly two people are pitched against each other: the true selfishness of the human race is shown within seconds’ - Matthew


“Prair.” A voices whispers


Sitting straight and still on a two-hundred-and-forty-three-metre high mirror is freshly born man. Winds beat against his chest and shirt causing it to ripple and shift like the sands of a blue dessert.


“Murderer!” His pocket roars as he scratches his prickly chin.


Waves skim up the slopes of the coastline, bubbling as they are dragged back to the horizon, the only familiar sight and sound to the seemly odd person sitting on a skyscraper.


“Prair!” a voice shouts, but again the guy does not answer and only stares at the view of the Australian Gold coast.


“Prair! Prair!” a voice shrieks but there is no answer.


The sky is smudged with orange and pink as the sun begins to dip into the black tainted sea. People walk as cars clatter and roar on the streets beside them.


“You promised, we promised, you betrayed us both!” The voice begins to have character and is now easily distinguished as-the voice of a young woman. “Prair, how could you? I trusted you, I loved you! You betrayed your own kind!” The voice gets louder and more hateful by the second, but even with the noise he continues watching the bugs scurry around their hives below, braking when their faces are splattered with red, and then speeding off when the colour merges to green.


“I know you can hear me Prair! Why have you done this? What have you done to Gabriel? Prair, answer me!”


"What a pitiful city, don’t you think, Sin?" Prair finally growls and spits off the side of the skyscraper. "Doesn't matter anyway, we won't have to look at this sickening place for much longer." He brushes a comb of midnight shade hair to his left and digs into a jean pocket.


“You’re evil Prair! The worst!” The voice snaps.


Prair laughs and holds his beanie down as he falls onto his back with joy. His hand sways side-to-side like a cobra with a gem in its mouth and then its stops abruptly, squeezing on the stone with his fingers.


“Why, tell me Prair, why have you done this?” The voice begins to weep. “Why would you kill us both?”


"To think someone as loved and nurtured as you would kill your own family." Prair’s smile tightens, twitches, mangles into an angry, hateful grin. "It's ludicrous." Prair hisses through his teeth as the beanie is pulled over his nose. The stone goes quite.


Walking across with his arms out like an airplane, he makes his way to the corner and eventually to the end of the landing strip.


“What are you doing? You really have gone mad Prair!” The woman begins to sound fearful.


With the beanie still covering Prair's eyes, he flicks the hood over his head, reaching his final piece of solid ground. With nothing more than one more step on his mind and the pleas stone in his pocket. The chilliness from the winter's breath finally hits his spine and with a hard stony swallow, a drowning heart, and an arched back and neck, he steps once more.


"Are you truly going to jump, Stranger?" The falling foot lands flat and roughly on thin air with a snap. Prair’s foot stands firmly on nothing. He gasps as he lifts the bottom of his beanie above his eyes, staring past his stationary foot and at tiny streets and cars below.


"Impossible." Prair screws his foot into the invisible surface as if putting out a glowing cigarette. He steps back onto the ledge and his heart bounds intensely.


"I wouldn't expect you to say 'impossible'. You must be fresh blood right of the shelf, am I right?" The voice catches Prair’s eyes and latches them to a black silhouette of a small, thin shadowed figure standing in front of Prair on another invisible platform. He quickly figures that the boy is to blame for the hidden floor. Prair takes three slow steps back, keeping his eyes forward.


"My name is Matthew?" The child becomes fully visible to Prair and he sees the kid is wearing a suit and tie with a thick pair of glasses.


“Piss off!” Prair adjusts his jacket and turns his back to Matthew. The kid smiles and floats to the ledge where Prair had just stood. Finally gravity takes action and Matthew drops to the ground in front of Prair.


Suddenly it feels as if two cinderblocks have been placed on Matthew’s shoulders. His eyes twitch as Prair does not take much notice in how much he struggles to breathe in Prair's presence.


“What is your name, Stranger?" Matthew asks carefully, his back bending slightly.


“What makes you think I’d tell a pathetic dusty Antique, like you, my name?” Prair smacks the kid over the head. Matthew scratches his charcoal hair and straightens his tie, before completing a full analysis of his black suit.


“Are you afraid of me?” Matthew asks, knowing full well how Prair will react


"Don't be foolish, a tiny impudent soul, like you, poses no more threat to me than a fly." Prair snaps quicker than Matthew expected. “Prair," He lifts his chin. "My name is Prair."


"Now we're making progress. How long have you been alive, it must have taken a while to learn modern English." Matthew snatches the glasses of his face and yanks a tissue from a pocket.


Prair bites his tongue and swallows stiffly as he feels the sphere in his pocket increase its weight dramatically.


“I will kill you!” The stone in his pants screams.


"I was born today, no more than a couple hours ago. I did no such training for the language I speak. I was born with the knowledge." A drop of sweat slides down Prair’s neck and the ball in his pocket losses kilos as Matthew perches his glasses upon the bridge of his nose. Matthew notices the strange change of Prair’s confidence and the tone of his voice is also a little fragile.


"Is that so?" Matthew tilts his head. "So how many times have you killed, and I mean humans as well."


“Plenty,” Prair bends over to Matthew’s height. “And it was justified, a life or death situation.” He snarls with a crooked face of guilt and regret.


"Do you want to kill again?" A smile slaps onto Matthew’s face as Prair frowns and feels a crushing atmosphere of change.


“Of course. I’ve had the cravings for hours.” Prair sits down and ties to relax a bit. “But I want a challenge. I’ve killed so many now, but it’s not the same as my first.”


“And what was your first like.” Matthew sits down on another invisible platform.


“I kill a girl who knew how to use a blade. I want that feeling again, I want to fight another. I want to kill another.” Prair smiles and his heart speeds up.


“Is this your Desire then?” Matthew flips out a note book and begins taking notes like some sort of therapist.


“Yes, this is my ultimate Desire, my goal in life.” Prair's smile fades. “But I have to ignore my Desire at the moment. There is someone who wants me dead and I do not have the power to defeat him.”


“Power, is that what you want?” Matthew slips off his unseen chair. “Well I can easily increase your power, Prair”


"How can I trust you, Matthew?" Prair gets to his feet.


"I never asked you to trust me, now do you want more power or not?" Matthew slips his pen into his front pocket. (If you're reading this for a swap, write Cupcakes in you comment so I know you read my piece)


Suddenly Prair's hand is welded around Matthew’s neck as he is dragged to the edge.


“What are you doing?” Matthew chokes with his feet dangling off the skyscraper. “I can help you.”


"I may be in need of help, but I am not stupid enough to take from a stranger.” Prair's eyes glow bright white, like a pair of high beams on a car. “Why should I trust you?" Prair rephrases his question. Matthew’s eyes can’t withstand the brightness and shut tightly as Prair shakes him over the edge.


“Now your power seems interesting but I can already see the flaws of you plat-forming technique.” Prair barks. “I’d like to see you make a floor when you have a thousand blades in your gut!”


Matthew frowns and opens his watery eyes to see swords, knives, daggers, and every sort of pointy sharp bladed object floating in the air, all pointed at him. Matthew stares in awe.


“I can make you a God Prair, A very powerful one. As long as you do something for me, first, is that alright with you?” Matthew begins to tremble.


“Make me a God?" Prair repeats the words and then suddenly a plan that swirls like lava in his head slowly begins forming steps to his true ultimate goal...

The End

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