Tiptoe higher

Marisol

Marisol woke up screaming.

Nightmares again. She should have known. They wouldn't leave her alone. The people she had killed, the people she couldn't save, the people she could have saved, but didn't, all for some misguided ideals. Ghosts, people called them. Shades of the past, come back to haunt you. Bullcrap. They were dead. They only visited her in nightmares, they themselves no more then rotten meat buried under a chunk of carved stone.

Once she had believed in an afterlife, a heaven, a god. Now she only believed in one god: herself. Maybe Jesus existed. But he was either evil, weak, or foolish like she once was. She could probably beat him in a fight anyway. She had beaten most powerful beings.

She got up and pulled on her robe. She walked out quietly, onto the Andromedia. It was a luxury spaceship, probably the only one in existence. Most people Blessed weren't powerful enough to be comfortable in space. Of course, she and Arion weren't most Blessed. It was cold though, even for her, and she shivered as the cold cut through her thin robe.

But what a view. The window was smaller then she would have liked-only the size of a full body mirror, and the glass was thick and partly frosted. But beyond it, you could see the endless expanse of black. Cold and completely empty. Nothingness barely pierced by a cold, sharp star. A huge ball of fire larger than a million earths put together, but it was so far away all she could see was a small prick of light.

Nothing. Stretching on forever. A place even she couldn't survive in for long. Here, looking out at the endless space she felt impotent. She was no longer the most powerful being in the universe, the ruler in which the entire world looked too. She didn't even know what the universe was. Her kingdom was ridiculously tiny and insignificant. What did it matter if it was destroyed? What did it matter if she died? In reality (and this empty expanse of space was more real than anything on earth) she and her world were nothing more than a tiny, insignificant speck.

It was strangely comforting. The universe didn't care about her. She wasn't in charge of it, it's safety did not rest on her shoulders. For a moment, she ceased to be so important, so necessary. She was nothing but an insignificant girl, watching the stars.

For a moment.