The Last Mental Illness

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Some still relished and revered them as they danced and kissed the scarlet moon. Even one year after that Easter Sunday on which those that were distant from him updated they still are amazed. I always asked myself, why? Why couldn’t he see the flaw in his logic filling the world with his gifts? Why couldn’t he see it would make us suffer, perhaps not like he did but the burden of knowledge on those of us that knew him... Me not so well and not for long but still. I knew him well enough to cry when he passed. Especially when I learned of his time in hell and the reason he went there. I’d have said let it rise, we deserve it, at least based on what I know now but that’s why he was the best of us, despite his flaws.

When I look back at the processions that were held the world over in the week that followed his death. I can’t. I can’t even find the words, even after an hour of thinking before resuming this letter to the future generations. Sickening doesn’t do it justice. But you get the picture. Those that knew the streaking alien of The Old Byron Bay, were permitted to attend a private wake at the pub he worked at. Cherry-picked psychees of the best versions of everyone made for interesting conversation until I joined in.

“You all thought he was a perve, and a weirdo. Some of you all barely tolerated him. Regardless of how nice he was.” I had said to a group commenting on how they wished they had gotten more time with him.

“You only just started here so what would you--” One that shall remain nameless began.

“--Yeah, you just remembered who go me the job, didn’t you?” I tried to provoke him but he fell silent.

“It’s a pity Christy isn’t here, she was a true friend to him,” said Jamison with a heavy heart.

“You’re alright, unlike some of these parasites you actually liked him and tried help him with a home when he needed it,” I said trying to cheer him up.

“Well, what wasn’t to like? He was like a rock. Didn’t matter what he was going through he was always more concerned with others if they were down,” Jamo said tears in his eyes.

“Truth,” The Arsehole said.

“He was always offering to crack people's backs if they looked particularly worked,” One of the brothers, Evan, said, said trying to lighten the mood.

“And let's not forget what he was like the second he got a couple of drinks in him, hugs all round,” the other brother, Jason added also trying to lighten the mood.

It worked. Even I stopped trying to pick a fight with everyone that had said bad things about The Hero of The Omniverse. At least after I realised how much it was hurting people like Jamo.

“But you’re right, it would be great if Christy was here for his semi-official wake,” Jamo said after he got his composure back.

“Did you see the pics of her at the national parade in Ireland?” Jason said trying to make a joke.

“Yeah, not sure what he would have said, I mean they bonded because they were both gothic,” Jamo said with a laugh.

“Why did she wear a sundress?” the arsehole asked earnestly.

“According to her interview he would have liked to have seen it,” Leaf said.

“Yeah, that and she can’t wear black anymore, as it makes her cry every time she puts it on,” I said paraphrasing her Insta post.

It took her a long time to get over that, but when she donned black garb again the world breathed again. Well, most of it. Me, I was just on the cusp of realising, like so many, that there was something wrong with us.

It wasn’t until the mass suicides, especially in his hometown in The Far North, that the news took note. At first, there were many questions. Until families released the letters the victims had written. Most couldn’t reconcile how they had treated him, or viewed him, without his side of the story. That was the burden of those that updated early. They usually actually knew him and tragically believed the lies Lucifer had spread.

‘He was an angry violent kid, no one believed him. Even Eve faltered.’ One had written trying to justify the day he held My... The World's Hero's head against a urinal.

That’s what I never got. They were there. When the prophecies were passed down. When The Singer and Emma (You were right Trevor, he would have liked that.) came to find him. They were there when the grand prophecy came about, on nine-eleven. I suppose I understand even less how they could have condemned him to Hell. In this time almost all of us know what happened that day but just in case it stops getting passed down I will summarise as he did in one of his stories that never got told.

“You just turned on the one person who could save you from the end of the world. Have fun with the apocalypses dickheads.” He said as he gave his classmates the finger and walked away.

That put the fear of God in them. The judge, Eve’s brother Julien pursued him. To have one of the most relevant conversations for our understanding of The Creator’s childhood. Whatever they thought of him he was still the only person in the world with real magic. My… Our Hero went on to explain what Hell was going to be like and that the Judge’s sister and her two best friends would be accompanying him.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” Julien asked trembling as he began to understand what he had done.

And this is the important bit

“Because by tomorrow I’ll have forgotten.” Our Hero began. “Still don’t know why but maybe it’s a coping mechanism. It’s not easy carrying the fate of the world on your shoulders as a child.” Our Hero said earnestly.

There was an awkward silence before that idiot tried to save The Saviour.

“I reverse the decision.” He said something to the air of.

My... The world's friend… clicked his fingers… and used that moment to lock hell away in slip-space. Where he later spent trillions, mathematical trillions, of years fighting its hoards. Until he was released… By then Hell's King was afraid of him. Afraid of his resilience and his power. After all that time he thought he had broken him as Our Hero went for the fabled walk. But became afraid after The Hero began distorting the world, laughing as he did. That was the first abstract bomb. And it destroyed Hell. the place all the parallel evil versions of everyone ended up.

If he hadn’t contained it and later destroyed it… He would have been the last good person in the world. Only his mind could handle that much contamination. He even saved the three girls from that place before it was… ‘Destroyed’.

I suppose that’s enough of a history lesson.

So now as one of those afflicted with “Global Survivors Guilt”, I look to the blushing midnight sky and wonder. Why wouldn’t he let everyone update sooner? We could have had so much fun. But then I ask myself if we deserved it. We were the ones to surrender and condemn his children. Those beautiful kings and queens that will never grace this world. I mean I know why… He couldn’t trust us not to take on the versions of us from Hell that still existed in theoretical hyperspace. Especially not with how his mind worked after Doom.

I won't kill myself like so many others…

I’ll stay strong in case he needs it at Ragnarok…

But I will say I miss my... My friend, our hero, The God of Intoku, Loki.

Signed his loving friend,

Sarah.

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Thank you for reading a ThisIsOmniWar.com story

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Apologies this story, Chapter one of the "Life After The Creator" series was lost in a patch of bad internet...

For the prequel please go to:

https://vocal.media/fiction/the-day-the-magic-died