Tw - murder
Credit: https://www.etsy.com/listing/747550958/arthur?epik=dj0yJnU9VDdfQ2MwNzlnV3FxWWowWWNrU0JlN0lyRm1jdGJsMUomcD0wJm49Ny1tY3hZWnZ4UWNPNkdzdWNmYUJJdyZ0PUFBQUFBRl9OSzNB
Back when the world was new, beings with immense power used to roam the skies, shooting across the horizon like stars plummeting through the atmosphere. But none except Lucifer himself ever fell from the skies, remaining forever trapped in their cocoons wrought in light.
One could say that even humans had more freedom.
Arthur had tried innumerable times to break free of these shackles, pinning him down so that he may enjoy one moment amongst the mortal humans. In the beginning, he had thought of his incapability of dying as a conundrum and not a problem someone had to solve; he had even grown to think it was a blessing. How could someone ever enjoy a life filled with the uncertainty of death and so short it would be over in the blink of an eye? But as eons rolled by, a grim realization dawned on him and a heavy boulder straddled on his shoulders. Unlike him, the humans were free to do as they wished and they had nothing to fear in the afterlife. That God was a hateful immortal was but a paranoid concoction of their own imperfect mind, and when they perished, they soon learned how mistaken they had been.
Even the non-believers were quickly absolved of their sins and offered entrance in his Garden.
Few people were sent to the deepest of pits of Hell and none ever imagined God would entrap them on the night sky, forced to watch the Garden from afar under the guise of shining stars, never blown out no matter how strong the winds of change became... Arthur did not recall what his misdeeds had been, but they must have been appalling if he had received such a terrible punishment.
The newcomer whined about the unfairness of the situation, but all Arthur could do was sigh. Too much time had passed since he had found himself in the same position, and nothing but a cold blanket of resignation coiled around his soul. The punishment had been just – it must have been. Many things could be said about The Creator, but he had never delivered undeserved discipline. Even so, as his new "friend" griped, Arthur felt a distinct need to slap him with one of his wings so he would shut up.
At least, the skies were silent, leaving him enough room to think clearly about if he would ever get out of this mess. The last thing he needed was someone to steal his only comfort away.
"This is bullshit," whatever-his-name was moaned. "I demand to be released."
Arthur scoffed. "Moan and whine all you want; he is not going to let you off the hook. I've been here for millennia."
"You're joking, right?"
"I wish I were, but no. If you've made it to this place, you are never leaving. Or, at least, no one has left since I got here, and I've been here for a long time."
"Why are you here? You hardly seem the type to go berserk on Earth."
"Beats me; it's been so long, I can't even remember."
Whenever he tried thinking of his past, his mind fogged up like a pair of glasses on a chilly winter day. He missed his glasses – not that he needed them anymore.
He had been dead for eons.
His companion snorted. "I don't think I can ever forget."
"That's what they all say, kid. But after a few centuries, it all starts to jumble up in your mind, and remembering won't come so easy. You'll see soon enough."
"I don't plan on seeing anything. I want out now," the stranger demanded. "Let me out, dammit."
The screech pierced the sky with such force, Arthur wondered if the humans had heard it. He certainly had. It didn't take long before Arthur felt God's presence – a void formed inside his soul and he couldn't help but feel insignificant, like a puppet deftly maneuvered by its master. After such a long exposure, he had learned to seal away part of his conscience, because, if he didn't, he would turn into a blabbering fool.
Just like his new friend who under God's might found he had nothing more to say than to coo like a human babe, with slobber dripping down his cleft chin.
"There, my son. I promise your punishment is well-deserved."
"What did he do?" Arthur quipped, his ears perking up at the possibility of new gossip.
He couldn't help himself; it had been a while since someone new had joined them.
"I see you still haven't learned to mind your business, Arthur." The invisible power grew stronger when God turned their attention to him. "I thought a few eons might teach you a lesson. You should focus on your problems, rather than on his."
"You can't expect me to not be bored out of my mind here. Angelo refuses to talk anymore, and Sisyphus speaks gibberish every time he opens his mouth. Besides, I can't even remember why I'm here in the first place."
"Oh, is that so? You can't remember?" God chuckled. "Must we go through this every time?"
From the void inside Arthur, a black hole began to form; it stretched its spindly legs inside his ribcage, protruding out like a mole out of its underground den. Images appeared before Arthur, shifting, and warping on the skyline.
His very own cinema. He should have known God had had the blueprint before humans did.
"What about now? Can you remember now?"
A silhouette pranced before him; Arthur recognized his infant sister, barely a year old when she fell into the river and drowned. His mother had cried for years before deciding to leave and his father had died soon after her departure. Some had thought he had taken his life, but Arthur had known his heart could take it no more – he had watched his father wither away and his mother had turned her back to his spitting image, preferring to run away and forget.
He had never tried to find her; why would he? She had abandoned him.
"That's my sister," he stammered. "Why are you showing me my sister?"
"Oh, Arthur. When will you repent?"
Even if they were invisible, Arthur could see God shaking their head.
"Repent for what?"
A grim thought flourished inside his mind, so dark his heart shied away from it. It couldn't be. He would never…
"What happened on that day, Arthur? Walk me through it."
Arthur twirled the rings on his fingers and thought long and hard; the memories were jumbled up and refused to come to him, fleeing whenever he tried to come closer.
God sighed. "Fine. If you do not wish to remember, I will show you."
The image before him changed; this time, Arthur could see himself as a seven-year-old boy, holding his sister upright as they walked on the shore of the river. The sun shimmered through his golden coils and tinted his cheeks red. He had been a healthy boy; a bit too round for his age, but strong and ready to help around the house. Mother's favorite and father's only treasure.
Then his sister had appeared. Arthur watched little him frown as he looked at the babe. He closed his eyes, knowing what was going to happen.
He couldn't watch this. Not again.
"Open your eyes, Arthur. Watch the moment your life changed."
Arthur willed his eyelids to stay shut.
"I said open them."
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but his jaw locked into place as God forced his eyelids to flutter open. Little Arthur stared at the sparkling blue water, glanced back at the wooden cabin only a few miles behind, made sure no one else was close, then did the unimaginable.
He let go of his sister and pushed her into the water.
Tears welled in his eyes as God zoomed in on the babe's shocked little face; a button-nose, two coal-eyes, and a rosy mouth would forever be ingrained inside his mind. Every time he forgot, God came back to remind him.
The tears rolled down his cheeks in avalanches, finding their way inside his mouth. They tasted wretched; much like the muddy waters must have tasted for Mia when she sank underneath the water, never to come out again. When his father had found the body, his wail had been heard for miles and when he had asked little Arthur what had happened, he had told his father he had been roaming the pastures, in search of food. It hadn't mattered to him they hadn't believed him.
"Why did you do it, Arthur?"
Arthur sobbed, his wings furling closer to protect him.
"I don't know."
"Why, Arthur?" God pressed him, even when Arthur broke down further, writhing under God's demands.
It would have been easier if Lucifer had been whispering in his ear, but he had been alone that day. Truly alone; when Mia had disappeared, it had been as if all the life inside him had been snuffed out.
"I was jealous of her. She had everything; when she came, mother and father doted on her and I suddenly became invisible. They mapped out all her life while I was stuck chewing grass on the sidelines," words he had never dared to speak poured out of his tightening throat. "I hated her."
His chest blazed with fire, belying his tears.
"You loved her."
"I hated her," Arthur shook his head. "I still hate her."
"Why?"
God mocked him, but Arthur replied nonetheless.
"Because when she died, she still had their hearts. I lost both of them that day." He knew it was wrong of him to think in such a way, but he couldn't help it.
"What of your parents? They lost both their children too."
"I was still there," he wailed.
"And yet, you weren't. You killed your sister and because of that, something inside you changed forever. Don't deny it; I felt it as soon as you stepped into my Garden."
"I was still there," his shoulders shook uncontrollably as he sobbed.
"Were you?"
"No," he admitted, a piece of the boulder placed on him shattering. "I was someone else; an excuse of the child I had been before." Another piece fell, and Arthur lifted his head an inch, looking at his infant sister. "She was the light of our lives and I killed her."
"If you could see her again, what do you think she'd say? What would you tell her?"
"I can never see her."
"Why is that? Are you suddenly racked by guilt?"
The sky crackled with lightning and Arthur gathered his courage, feeling the world around him shatter. "No."
"Then?"
His anger – stored safely inside his soul – faded away when he thought of Mia. He had wronged her so terribly, the only reason he had been able to live after was because he had denied it all, hiding away the truth of his misdeed.
If he hadn't, he was sure he would have gone mad.
"She's in your Garden and I'm here. I can never leave this place."
Arthur felt God smile. "Who said you can't leave, Arthur?"
"You."
"Did I now? I really can't remember saying that."
"But you said this is an unescapable cage and people like me don't deserve to leave."
"I also pointed out you made it for yourself." God's light filled his body, releasing the boulder once standing on Arthur's shoulders. "Now tell me, Arthur, what man in his right mind, doesn't leave a key for himself?"
A hand steadied Arthur, making sure he wouldn't plummet towards the ground.
"I don't understand," Arthur struggled to breathe, righting himself.
"It's time for you to forgive yourself. Your sister has been waiting."
Mia? Waiting? Why would she wait for him? He had murdered her in cold blood.
"Love and hate are not so different; it is your path to choose. I am sure you repent for your sin – I haven't seen you cry before." One of his tears floated before him, translucent and as beautiful as morning-dew. "It is as transparent as your soul. That is how an honest man looks. She has forgiven you. It is time you forgive yourself. It is time you allowed yourself to leave."