I have these thoughts that are rather forbidden

That their bodies should be disease ridden

I harbor hate and a disguise, but they inserted these knives

Their laughter and love is sickening

Yet I'm snickering, at their blood thickening

I'll stop this trail of thought, in case I get caught

I’d rather it not be all for naught.

The presence was a small tingle across your skin, a twitch at your fingertips, as you passed through the vast green meadow, you felt it's pull.

The long blades of grass lick at your skin to greet you, tickling your palms as you run your hand across them, they whispered to each other with the wind. You close your eyes looking upwards, the slight chill breeze passes over you like cool water, but you are not cold, as you feel the embrace of the evening sun setting behind you.

You feel it now more than ever, as the warmth ripples up your spinal cord and spikes throughout every fiber of your body. Your eyes open, as you peer searchingly into the sky above.

A nebula of with shades of magenta, aqua, jade and rose catches your gaze. Stars glisten, littered in various parts of the heavens above you, of white and blue. The Colors of the celestial heavens above leaves you in awe. The sun sleeps behind you, but you do not require its light.

The astral light from above guides you on a seraphic path across the vast green meadows...

I am the only one that can skip and dance across the surface of stars, as I bleed them dry.

My insatiable hunger wanes for a time, as the star novas.

I spy amongst the life inhabiting countless planets.

Appearing to them as a god when the time is right.

Yet many of them stray from the path I have set, or displease me.

So must I extinguish them.

I dance to the song of harvest, and gorge myself. I bath in their blood and sing amongst their screams.

The harvest only stops once the last essence has been devoured, then I leave.

Nothing but a void of life is left upon the planet.

I am the Deceiver, the Laughing god.

From the summit, the path to the peak seemed to be beyond his reach. A torrent of frigid rain gnashed upon his face, and as boulders quaked from the rock face, and plummeted downwards to the summit.

He stood unwavering, starring at his palms, while these colossal behemoths fractured around him. As dirt, sand and splinters of rock rippled across the  skin of his face.

Drenched were his clothes, yet he merely pulled his hood up, and looked back towards the pinnacle.

A crack in the malignant nebulous of sky above him, allowed a sliver of light to caress the peak.

He began the climb.

Each step or foothold was without mercy, anguish or remorse. But with each tear of his clothes, or rend of his skin, he still held close every bit of hope he held.

As the warmth of the sun trickled over his grimy and bloodied fingers, the last pull was herculean.

It was excruciating as the light, and warmth of the sun pelted his entire body. Causing him with plunge to his knees, the slated rock giving no leeway to his battered body.

He sat still, as a serene wind licked at his skin, and withdrew his hood, his hair being combed by the wind. His palms were lined with deep lacerations, he felt the blood seep from his wounds, on to the ground beneath him.

Exhaling calmly, he pointed to his chest, and uttered; “Take it back.”