Sacrilegious Beginnings

I focused on the click-clacking of my laptop, uncut nails tapping fiercely. Each key snipped letters onto the essay I was working on. Usually I could enter a meditative state where I ignored everything, from my hunger to my bladder. But it was simply too difficult to focus when chunks of your own hair kept drifting down and scattering between the keyboard crevices.

I took a deep breath before I said, “Will you stop cutting my hair? You do realize it takes a while to grow back, right?”

“Eh? Does it really?” A luminous face popped over my right shoulder, one hand outstretched over my left shoulder, a pair of scissors dangling loosely from slender fingers. “Humans are so weird,” it yawned, its voice high and textured.

“Yes. Will you leave now?” 

I turned my head to the right and I found myself staring into the depths of pale, colorless eyes. They were iridescent, much like the scales of a fish. The pupils were mere pinpricks reminiscent of inkblots. I had a feeling if I looked closer, they would twist into fantastical symbols and shapes.

It held my gaze. A sharp canine slipped over its bottom lip as it smiled. Slowly, it eased itself off my back until…

Snip.

I gazed mournfully at the tuft that landed lightly on the desk.

“Oopsie,” it said cheerfully. It twirled the scissors away into nothingness and glomped back onto me. Its chin dug into the crown of my head as it spoke. “Let’s go have fun! This is boring.” It dragged out the last word until it died in a raspy whine.

I ignored it and continued to type, albeit more stiffly. “You go then. I have to finish this.”

“Boo, you’re such a wet blanket. Why did you even call me if you aren’t planning to do anything?”

I lifted up a hand and stretched it in front of its face. “See? The pattern hasn’t washed off yet. And I don’t have a way to erase it.” Rings of dark ink roped my fingers in intricate swirls and wilting flowers and snakes swallowing their own tails, wisping off just below my knuckles. It was mirrored on my other hand. 

“Besides, I didn’t mean to call you anyways,” I said, a slight crease marring my forehead. I had meant to call one of the Gods of Time but I suppose I performed the summoning wrong.

The minor God pulled its lips back and bared its teeth. “You’re so mean.” Its fingers pinpricked deeper into my shirt and I thought to myself, How childish. When you think of Gods after all, you think of soaring temples dripping with angels and light, of towns burning with the flick of a finger, of might and power condensed into a single being. Not a child wiggling fingers into your neck, trying to make you laugh.

“Okay okay, let’s go then,” I said and stood abruptly. I was horribly ticklish and barely managed to suppress the urge to giggle. “I won’t be able to do any work with you here.”

It cheered, “Yay!” The God performed a neat backflip off my shoulders and landed lightly, slightly leaning forward in anticipation. “So who do you want to ruin first?”

“What? Ruin?”

“I mean tease.”

“Sure-” I caught myself from dragging the word out sarcastically. “I don’t care. You decide.”

“Okay then! Here we go!” 

“Wait!” Before I could do more, the God grabbed onto my shirt and twisted us away into nothingness. After a quick eternity of darkness, we sparked into existence and stumbled out. Well, I stumbled. The God simply floated beside me as I caught my bearings. 

“Fun, isn’t it? Bet your Time God can’t do that.”

I glared at it before composing my emotions. “Where’d you teleport us to?”

“The coronation parade! Duh!”

Now that I could look around without feeling nauseous, it felt painfully obvious. The buildings were garlanded in streams of ribbons and flowers. Colorful wreaths hung from lamps, spraying merry pedestrians with petals and feathers. The shops all had a CLOSED sign hanging on their doors with only the sun shedding light on their window displays of ancient urns and heavy fabrics and plastic cats. A sizable crowd was gathering already, dressed in their best.

The God nudged me towards them. “C’mon! Let’s get a good view.” It drifted over, people moving around it but not seeming to notice it was there.

I sighed and followed it. “What are you planning to do?” I asked as I emerged to the front, after having the pleasure of being elbowed and stomped on no more than eight times.

The God was dangling on the railing. “Turn the queen into a spider.” It said it in a lilting tone.

I scoffed. “You couldn’t.”

“Of course I can! I’m a God. Who’ll stop me?”

I bored holes into its head. “Me.” 

It turned its head towards me. “You? Really?”

Its eyes were deathless and blank. I swallowed my uneasiness. When I had inked the last ring on my hands, I had expected to meet one of the Gods of Time. I didn’t expect one of the Gods of Mirth to appear instead. It was dangerous to annoy any God and this one especially knew how to play with humans very well.

I calmed myself and propped my elbows up. My sleeves fell down and the people around me, already wondering why I was talking to myself, murmured and gave me a wide berth. The lopsided haircut didn’t help me either. I ignored them. This was a special occasion anyways and the queen would show up any second. “Yes.”

“Why?”

I paused. Why? I asked myself. It wasn’t like I knew the queen and it wasn’t like she was particularly good or excellent or anything really. Even if she did turn into a spider, the people would just accept she must’ve done something terrible to the Gods and the Board would take over. I suppose her family would be sad if she lived as an arachnid or was crushed in the parade though. It would also be morally wrong, but I didn’t really care about that. Then… 

“I suppose,” I said slowly. “It would be a shame to see her future cut off like that.” After all, I understood Time more than anyone.

The God studied me. “No wonder I was sent here instead,” it murmured, so quietly I asked it to repeat itself but it quickly complained, “You’re too serious. There’s nothing I can do to you that won’t be entertaining for me.”

That piqued my interest. “Really? Why not?”

It started to answer but the people around us suddenly burst into cheers. The parade rounded the street corner towards us. Red-suited men played merry tunes on their horns and little children scampered in white dresses, tossing candy everywhere. Acrobats turned cartwheels while confetti flecked the sky. At last, the carriage came around. It was grand and made of gold and was pulled by five magnificent horses. All I saw waving from within were the Board members until the crowd began pointing at the horses and cheering. Perched on the very first horse was the queen. She was smiling and waving with one hand, the other lightly grasping the reins. A cloak blew behind her, clasped with a pin that sat on top of the ruffled dress she was wearing. The crown was pinned on top of her head, the jewels shedding colorful light fragments. For a second, I was mesmerized. She looked so confident, so bright. Then I remembered the God.

I spun towards it. “Don’t do it-”

It grinned widely at me and wiggled its fingers.

I gasped and whipped around to look at the queen. Yet she was unharmed and continued to ride down the rest of the street.

I looked at the God, confused. “I thought you were going to transform her?”

It rolled its eyes at me. “Of course I wasn’t! I would get in too much trouble for that. Your expression was much more amusing anyways.”

I let loose a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” I said sincerely. The parade rounded the corner and more distant cheering began. The crowd dispersed, either following the parade or celebrating at home. Now only confetti and forgotten candy littered the streets.

Suddenly I felt a fizzing in my left hand. I lifted it up to see the ink of my pinky finger fade away, leaving behind unmarked skin. Another few seconds and my ring finger was bare of ink as well. “Looks like you’ll be rid of me soon,” the God said casually. “You must be happy.”

I was too smart to say I agreed. Instead, I said, “Will you teleport me home?”

It shrugged and grabbed my shirt again. Right as I felt the tugging sensation, the God stopped. “Oh right, I almost forgot,” it said cheerfully. “You’re going to have to redo your essay.”

“What?”

“I erased it. That used up much less of my power than transforming a human.” It smiled up at me, all cute and vicious. “Have fun rewriting it!”

And before I could do anything, we twisted away into nothingness, except only I emerged. I rushed to my laptop and swore when I saw the blank doc. I would have to redo everything. But first, I was going to egg the Trickster God’s temple.