#sin's writing

[tintentrinkerin]

Just called Jack wrapped in a blanket and crying in frustration a “sad burrito”. I should go to bed.

[sinoftheabyss]

I was briskly walking in the Halls of the Creator – that is, me, therefore making this my halls, and rendering all this third-person stuff in a way that seems unnecessary. But, as I was saying, I was moving at a very fast pace. This would seem odd for someone like me, who is quite possibly one of the laziest Creators in the multiverse, but it had genuine reason behind it. You see, I had received a message from one of my allies, the Digital Monster known as Neptunemon, that there was a very urgent message for me. I was unsure of how to take this, since a limited number of my creations and recreations had the ability to directly contact me, but I decided that it was best for the safety of my created world for me to read the message.

I reached the first level, where a few of my recreated friends were busy about their daily lives. Korekiyo was in his research lab, attempting to learn even more about humanity than I could possibly understand the motivation behind. Ryoka was busy communicating with the birds in an attempt to determine whether the Guild of Heroes was properly active that day, as per usual. Faust was preparing medicine for various hospitals across the created world's realms. And, lastly, waiting for me near the entrance to the elevator, was Fran.

Fran was and always has been an important source of inspiration for me; I see her as more than an object, more than a creature, and more than the average friend. She was one of the original recreations that joined me in the, in hindsight foolishly named, Halls of the Creator, even before my Guardians and Wargs had been created and given roles. Fran was there to help as best as she could, for even though the Mad Enhancement placed upon her had been lessened significantly, it still took its toll on her as a Berserker. Every day, I appreciate her very existence to a point of awkwardness.

Now, I can't say I never acted bashful around her. Fran was just as beautiful as ever, after all. But today's supposedly "urgent" message required me to reach the top level of the Halls, the control center, at high speeds. I politely told Fran that I needed a moment alone, and she nodded with one of her adorable grunts before walking away toward the garden she normally roamed around in.

I walked up to the seemingly blank, yellow wall and hurriedly pressed the hidden magic elevator's button, and it arrived immediately, as such fantastic creations normally do for the Creators of these kinds of worlds. I stepped on, and thought of which floor I wished to arrive to. After a few moments, I stepped out of the elevator again as the doors shut behind me and the device vanished into the air.

On either side of me were screens with details about creations, recreations, the current state of my created world, and what was on the lunch menu for the day, among many other intriguing and varied things. These were scattered upon the many walls that made up this room and gave it an unusually shaped structure. There were several seats in different places for managing and observing the screens, and a single aisle that went across the center of the room. I walked to the very middle of the control room's seats and formed my personal computer chair, complete with swivel action and an attached electronic device that was essentially the master control to all of the other screens in the room.

I sat down in my spinning throne of monitoring mastery and pulled up my private messaging system. In it were newsletters from various online games and sites of interest, a few direct conversations with my creations that were more friendly with me, and. . .

"Oh, oh, oh, what's this?" I asked as I examined a single message from a sender known as the Lord of All Creators; funny, I had never heard of them until now. "'Possible impending doom for all created world, prepare to fight back'?" I opened the message now, curious.

The message read as follows:

Outside forces wish to remove the freedom of Creators from the multiverse unless they pledge absolute obedience with a form of profit that the forces themselves will determine. Any and all Creators will be affected by this in some way should the outsiders be enabled access to the multiverse archive and be given the ability to manipulate who and what can be blocked from view. If you create in some way, particularly in the multiverse, you're very creations are at stake. Rally yourselves and prepare to counter these outsiders before it's too late.

I couldn't believe my eyes. What kind of madmen would want to destroy Creators' livelihoods like this? Oh, wait. . . these outsiders had to have been money grabbers.

But, to threaten to take away this world, and countless others was something inhumane AND inhuman. It sounded like an even greater epitome of greed than the average person. If I were to lose this place that I had built upon for years, and allowed to grow to such a massive size because of my love for it, leaving me without so much as a document holding the entire history of it. . . I'd be stripped of my role as a Creator, as THE Creator. I'd be forced to become a wildly inaccurate recreation in these monsters' own worlds.

I'd lose all of those I'd dedicated my life to, I'd lose the love of my life, and I'd lose my will to continue existing at all. I'd be left as an empty shell of the being I once was.

The darkness inside of me surged, forming a glowing dagger in my hand as I slashed. . . and the end approached rapidly.

"Goodbye, everyone. . . It was nice, wasn't it? To be able to. . . be with each other like this. . . I never even got to. . . fulfill my promises. . ." My vision blurred as the dagger and my body fell to the floor.

I could barely make out a voice that continued to grow dimmer. A familiar voice, one I had heard just moments earlier on the first floor. It kept going, "Sin. . . Sin. . !"

A tear rolled down my cheek as it all faded from view. I have yet to recover, and I know not whether I even will manage to do so.