Chapter Text
It’s hard to recall, but I remember this;
I looked into the eyes of God and realized they were empty. Two silver mirrors reflected back and, to my horror, I saw that I was grotesquely full. I tried to pull it out of me, reaching deep down my throat and casting up my humanity.
But full I remained, lying on the wooden floor of my studio amidst slices of corpses. I tried to get up but my hands slipped in vomit. I was a wretched thing, back and forth between fevers of despair and greatness. My head was dizzy but my body crawled, hands out and searching. At my fingertips grazed my creation. I cradled his half finished face, raw tendons and muscles that quivered when I touched them. He was empty.
Gloriously empty.
But then one day he was full. As full of cantankerous humors as me, his face stretched and warped to accommodate. Every pull tore his flesh, splitting his smile wider than it was ever meant to be. His perfection was lost as his limbs swiveled in their sockets and reached out to me. He was worse, so much worse. A monster that not even God would unleash on the world.
I had made a second of myself.