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Ash
I need her. More than this. More than power.
I. Need. Her.
I wake to the sound of car tires rushing near my head. My cheek is pressed against the dirty concrete sidewalk. I hear someone curse at me, feel the weight of a soda can hit my cheek, and I'm shot out of a peaceful dream. Unfortunately, this type of cruel treatment isn't unusual for me.
I am not someone of importance. Well, at least not in the moment. Someday, things might change. People might recognize my power. Until then, I am considered scum.
Modern man and their rulers have turned their backs on faith. Gods have no say in the modern world. It's not that they don't believe in us anymore. They simply don't want the hassle.
Can you blame them?
Again, I should reiterate one small point. None of this is real because I'm fucking crazy. Bat-shit-insane. I have visions everyday. I see things. Holy images.
Seriously.
There is a war coming between good and evil, but no one will believe me. It's getting to the point where even I have doubts.
I roll against the concrete and wipe my palms against the front of my ripped jeans. Gas and petrol fumes seep into my lungs. It's getting harder to breathe.
I don't know why I live on the streets. Survival, I guess. But everyday, I feel a little bit closer to giving up hope.
Every single day, I lose a little bit more of myself.
Another car passes. Then another. A long and black vehicle skids around the corner, and stops on the other side.
I look up and eye the tinted, stretch limousine. Bite down because I know that whatever is about to happen can't be good.
The privileged few don't want people like me to exist. That's just a fact. It's why I've been beat up and mugged 137 times. People don't want to see how fragile they really are. All it takes is one single thing to go wrong to end up like me.
Maybe this is the day I get my mind back. Maybe I'll find the girl of my dreams and live a better life.
Fat fucking chance. This isn't a fantasy world. This is real life.
The driver steps out of the vehicle, grinding his heel against the street. Smoothly, he pivots and walks to the back of the car without looking at me once. I swallow and prepare for the worst as he opens the passenger door.
When I was young, my father told me I was different. As soon as I found my voice, he took off. Left my mother without an explanation. If anyone is stopping here to see me, it's not to say hello.
The driver holds the door open as a man steps out. Tall and slender with a devious set of eyes. Short, crisp blonde hair waves around his skull like the rolling California hills. His forehead protrudes, alarming in nature. Better looking than I am by a long shot.
He looks at me without batting an eye. It's like he expected to see me here.
He's wearing a sharp suit, and I just know he's made of solid gold. His eyes are cold and blue, but he looks like he wants the world to burn. Just for a moment. Just for him.
Just to see it happen.
"Ash Crowley,” he states.
I stare back at him, silenced by every step he takes.
"Is that your name?" he asks.
It takes me a second to remember who the hell I am, but when the knowledge comes back to me, I slowly nod my head. The air feels thin as I take another breath.
He just keeps walking in my direction.
"I've been looking all over for you," he says. "You're the god guy, yes?"
