Not omnipotence or immortality

The hotel bed is a nicer safer place to sleep then the tent or going back to the shell of a house. Able to make my own strange wards of protection before sleeping. Not the best reviews of this place but decent for cheap. I will have to change my hair and style of clothes tomorrow. Two days without sleeping and those strange forces that took away my strength in my legs. A miracle that there was enough boats on the canal to jump dark to dark with.

When did I ever start to use shadow like that? Have I always been able to see strange things? Why did the water colour one do that to protect us?

"Don't ask questions you will not want to listen to the answers of."

The sky was grey pale in silver streaks of shimmering silver. Watches of all sizes shapes are plucked by large net clothed limbs. Standing at the side, the cloth warps a limb to hold my shoulder, "You evaded our Uncles cursed servant." I have a uncle? My family has servants? They are whom made Greg and David become forced fosters, "Does any of these watches seem familiar to you?" Scooping them by the load and putting them in a barrel. Wood wine cassette sort of barrel.

"Since we did we ever talk to each other?" The mask face of more then just clay lowers to eye view, deeply looking into me.

"Its more like talking to your otherselves." it replies and back in focus of scooping clocks, "You gained a extra grain of your soul, stepping closer to being able to understand it. For now at simple terms, you are my human living host and I am your guardian of all things inhuman. We both die and breath and live and are always reborn again... at conflicting opposites of each other. I am your afterlife as you are my afterlife."

I reached with picking a smart watch out the air. Full battery and the wallpaper was some sort of family pet cat.

The barrel was filled and soon he snatched a large grand father clock. Placing it to ground. He plucked three other stange wrist watches. Pulled my arm and added them to me. "Demon City time. Angelic city time. God debating room."

He is teaching me. I feel acceptance in this strange relationship inpite of everything bit of it is wrong. Why these watchs? Can't see how they seem to be time pieces at all. The demon and angelic two were counters of themselves always to opposite of each other. More like a compass points then watches. The god time piece he said was the third one. That didn't move at all. The smart watch thinks I am in South America going by the geographical signal it chooses. The language the smart watch was mostly picture letters... emoji sort of things. A strange font. Not something from my understanding of modern age.

"We need to be complete... before either our uncle steals our soul, the country economy has another famine or we die to the gods whom hate and misunderstand us." I blinked with finding it all unnerving.

Is this even me?

The sigh of aggravation and pushing me to the gery box with chipped obsidian door frame. Today it peels a chuck and forced the massive slice into me.

I should wake up from this instantly... but my hands are small and I felt more then just exhausted. Looking over myself, younger soft tiny hands. My legs trapped under someone sleeping. Red everything tame for my normal dreams. I have been postracted over a women... her head staring back at me from the throne chair across the room. My tears were turning shades, from the classic salty water to streaks of red then into inky blacken jelly. My own tears painted my face and smeared is clumps. I attempted wipe the mess, unsure of what is wrong with me.

I gasp and screamed at how the cold tingles and burns in my back, a sharp tip bursted in my front chest. The blade is swiftly move out.

The colour of the world was adding more and loosing others, motion blurred the details then would sharpen like some cartoon ink sketch. The towered figure stood over me, their eyes cold. Burning cold that torn at my heart. He looks familiar.

"I will take your head as I took my brothers and the wife that should have been mine." The black funereal wear was something out of a movie. The madness of those eyes flares. He wasnt exactly smiling or frowning, a sort of cheeks pulling tight to nearly his ears. Another sort of creep whom relished in smelling the dagger in his hand.

I mostly was expecting this flexed memory of the balding man to be kind and reach to me. My heart pounded of dispiriting pain. That pain spreads, fragmented shatters at the betrayed gleaming through this once a man, now a sort of clay masked freak.

Mixed if what I should be feeling. It were of a grim reaper chances now. The figure of death has already taken a syth through my parent's, pulled their souls from their shell cold bodies. Such deity had turned its bladed partner to me. The tip has already scratched but it were jolted out of me, away from me. Its stops staring at me to then at the snarl of a being far more twisted then death. It were at pose of death to protect the souls he has collected already. The twisted figure of gloop blacken broke form. It was then it drops of lost squishy snap from the ceiling behind my beloved uncle. A man I had once looked up to was as if frozen in time, rigidly at pose to raise a dagger once more.

Inky form disappeared in the darkness shaodw of this man. A distorted stance of my beloved uncle is now a glorified model. The mask of damned that my uncle had was washed over and replaced. Shattered clay face does not hide the more faces distorted in a riving chorus of share terrored. Claws fingers pose at moment to snap down on on the grim reaper.

It would seem that glorified man underneath is unable to realize he was being used. Inky dripps has disrupted the man's long speech of planning to take over the world with stealing the powers of what all gods fear. It was something I was half listening to, being distract with the goop battling the death god.

I made effort to speak out, voiceless in crying his name. A silver curve plunged into both the figure covering and the man inside of it. All drips in tears and screams in pain. The death god attacks the mass over my uncle. In side this chorus of screams, it affect him as it did the inky goop on him.

Sand paper to a record disc, slowly warped words of a hand turner player. Many changing aged voice spoke choaticly in the last moments of my loved uncle.

To my inability to really make sense if it.. the inky mass swallow him. It settled with no faces, not teeth and not mouth. A blob of a black hole that no light reflects from. It shakes side to side for moment. Throwing up things, a spray of objects and other stuff. Spits out was a lifeless corpse dropped on top of my mothers.

I was going to see if it was him... but then the voids morphed and folds, it make a few broken snap sounds and shrinks height. I pose at half way of going to reach this new corpse or not. My head turned to the mass.

It were that being from the dream world, the one whom I see when I sleep. Offered me thier hand... I cry soberly as I took its hand. It was a body action to take its cloth tendril, I wasn't thinking.

"I am not what the universe makes other souls assume. I am all that often stops total disaster from ripping out all of time and space. I need a host whom is resilient and responsible. Not a lunatic bent on bruning down what I am saving. It doesn't need to make sense to you. You just have to trust me." I know will even part of me... I have to run. Heck, I should have scrambled behind death and plead that God to save me. Yet... I was sobberly aware of everything else from now on and nothing of around me at this now.

What came to mind at this point of time was the dagger I have been wounded by. The handle was protective guard that didn't suit a normal dagger, preventing the blade contacting the skin of the wielder. The blade is like a cream coloured and clearly not metal. The edges ridged had little holes in intervals, the blood of those it been stabbed with leaking.

"I dont know what game your are playing, unknown wanderer. But you have just broken so many laws that us gods should never play. Do not..." Death was thrown backwards by nothing which didn't make any sense. A force of unseen energy that only pushed the god and nothing else. Not affecting the reapers syth, which floats around the air. The blade tilted at bow then gentle hover over the knocked out partner. The souls stood looking at grim or the gloop.

"Always the bloody trouble maker. You should stick to what you preach Death. When all things fall apart and what we could scoop up that was anything human anymore is gone. You would beg to me to bring everything back. You told me to break to rules or that you do it yourself."

He turned back with me, picking me off the floor of the two headless corpses and the pale one.

"That was really rude of you. Death is a good soul." the metal of some sort of morphic robotic terminator styled cat sits on this inky figures 'shoulder'.

The dagger was for the moment beside me. I was hiss at for picking it up for a proper look. But a was allowed to keep it. He acted now taking me away from everything that just happened.

For the very first time, these dreams had seemed like memories. They are more then I had assumed of just dreams. They are real moment of present time. The dagger inflected wound has only healed completely around 4 months after my 16th. This was the moment I not just remembered getting it but actually lived the moment of getting it. It was my opportunity to turn down this sense of immoral duty.

"See, I haven't been able to work on what we need to do until the posions of the dagger settled in the body system. We are just one being with a broken soul. Our life is scattered across time and space... but our existence is ever presented. Think of it as air. Our present is anytime we pull ourselves around other souls. When there is no souls to act around, we a lie rejected to fling to a moment of time needing our existence. The door way was just crafted for your sanity to cope with time flexing."

The face of the inky figure is featureless. It crumbles and breaks so make a creak ridged mouth to speak with. We are stood at the obsidian time doorway.

"I dont think I understand." The figure laughs madness echoes make thousands of times. It snapped a frozen pose and soon chills with sipping a tea cup. I don't think the content is tea or normal. It tilted at me if knowing that thought. Maybe it does read my mind.

"We aren't gods. We can't make miracles happen within the laws. I can be here forever explaining laws. But you see that those laws are just what souls find common sense. In basics of the more famous laws would be; dead cannot walk among the living. No gods can have total governed control over humanity. All faiths, fears, stories exist between the fabric of normality humans made for themselves.

There is a sad truth that demons and angels (ignoring humans mix theories of them) are the same race under different laws. There are existences that came from our dreams dream's. There is no end of souls in the universe hell bend on ending humanity and no end of folks protecting humanity. All of this" it waves all around us and beyond the mist of dreams. The time warp of seasons flexing realms of all worlds, "it matters. There is fear of it being gone because we are the only one whom breaks it all." Its giving me a headache, "We can't as much as we would wish to" it formed limbs to make quote marks, "follow the rules. We are a broken soul, the only soul that no death or goddess of life can fix back together." It rambles in being side tracked by some other topic. "Not that gods need to follow genders. Its just easier to cope with humanitys assumptions."

I was sleeping in that world, drifting back to the one I escaped from. I groaned in waking up at the hotel bed, my mind aching. I tilted glances with the many watches on my arms and my current phone on charge on the side. I about jumped my skin as a loud slurp was at the end of the bed. The tattered fabric mocking a person with clay porcelain creaked face features.

"I still really don't get it." I force myself to sit up. I rub my temples and try to make up sense of what is dream or not. It hovered at the foot end and continues sipping the 'tea'.

"There is a paradox that is why we exist. The very fact that humanity accepts such nonsense is nothing more then stupid." It puffs up with a wide frown, "Everything is nothing." posed a finger at pointing to the ceiling. A spare limb created for making the exaggerated point. All proud of itself.

"Thats a contradictory statement." I really try to pinch my nose ridge for a trick to help the headache.

"But is it? When you have collected everything last stone, flora, soul and shells. When you repeat this for the afterlife... bundle it all into a infinite sack of threads and history. What is leftover?"

"The universe?" I slowly asked with straining to stare at the tare of space it is coming out from.

" wipe out the universe. You took that." It back handed such answer. The cup as pose to be drinking it again.

"myself?" I tilt inspecting how it was visible from this angle. A suspended moving image that clips put of existence when observed any differently.

"And what then without time and space to dictate you as anything anymore. What are you?" I sigh in feeling stupid. I look to it properly from the direction I can see it. Is it trying to insult me?

"Nothing?" if shattered the cup and grins with way to many teeth.

"How did time and space begin?" I frown with why bring it up. Yet science class of the teacher playing a NASA video reminds me, only then I sort if get it.

"A single dot in a vast empty nothingness." it rejoices with throwing bits everything.

"Now you get it! I am so proud." it purred hollow in dailing back the creepiness, "This universe is protected mostly by itself. Everything within is regulated. However, we coexist with other universes. Each one is miles different from the others. Sometimes universes bump into each other or invade with breaking each other."

"Then the universe needs a sort of antibody to prevent these bleeds of other universe." It posed a hand to me with a guessing of thumb up. It then has tendrils exaggerating everything it is say.

"I am the fragments of you lost outside of time and space. The universe need us to exist within and outside itself. It chooses to not make sense of how or why. If anything that can make chooses like that, I could say is the inner voice of desire within other souls is what I call it."

I have a feeling there is a going to be a ton of problems with being both living and unalive (if that you consider is life after death is just a twisted version of life). If I have to be bend around people whom assume I am there, then there is a sort of distortion. Are people even able to retain memories of me? Because constantly through foster homes, meeting old foster parents. I have found that total have forgotten whom I. This was is something I have always known as fact. So it would seem I am more then just some outsider. Am I even human?

"Yes and no. You there shivering in bed. Me that is here talking at you is not. We are a soul which death hates most about me. Souls have to be whole in one body not fragments in several bodies. That can't be for me, for us... since that breaks the whole both in and outside of space and time thing. Paradoxes... We are a speciality of them. Even our way of bending elements or energy isn't how the rules say it should be."

" Yet. we. I am not a God or immortal." the figure nods.

"We can feel pain, get ill and suffer just like everyone else. Killed like everyone else. Be recycled into the next life... like everyone else souls do. By far, not all knowing. We hate history for a reason. Gods are also a bit stuck to these rules too. They are all knowing in terms of answering mortal known questions. But they can't answer things about the universe. I find that fascinating, breaking my reality of gods but oh well. Not the worst."

There is a lot of unpacking here. There seems a division between what humanity makes assumptions of working and that being enforcement by the realms outside of humanity. And then you have that questionable thing of dreams having dreams. That doesn't sound humanities making at all. I can go at a stretch of guessing that demons, angels and gods have dreams too... and that makes sense of it.

This all doesn't make anything of sense while it does follow sort of logical rule. Even a weirdo like me still can totally destroy the force what souls choose to make real. Only just protect the souls in all these many folds of universe.

My head really hurts. I can only really take up this much without screaming or going into total melt down. Don't I have meds for this?

"Currently we are looking for the other fragments of our soul, maybe some tools I lost since the last time break and waking up Sean from his lazy time sleeping."

"Sean?" I slowly had asked in a low unsure tone.

"In order to get life and death off my back for being another being whom fixes broken souls. I am required to pretend to be a aspect of the cycle system. That moment when someone dies and feels numb to all... they assume that's my work. Its more that the soul was dropping the shell it was using before, but whatever makes them happy. We have a syth whom judges where a soul goes in this entire universe. He could be doing to work himself without my input."

"But this bladr is like a sort of a baby sitter to prevent us doing something disagreeable." The masked being nods, "Clearly they think you are the end of the world."

The frown it made and the limbs about it snapped.

"Not myself too. I protect us! Not end us! Someone has to kick souls into starting the cycle again when they refuse or break or get lazy." He morphs a clawed hands in frustration and rants at the many mythical places his claims to rebuild by brick. It mostly flew over my head, to be fair.

He so wrapped up in this annoyances. I got up and went to the toilet. Showered and changed. Cut my Hair.

"You missed a spot." The mirror reflects directed where. I slowly checked and indeed my reflect was right, "Everything to do with the ghost fool in the other room is right. I am the fragment you hide you magic and abilities into. You are royal blood line of a hidden outdated motherland country. Its not famous but it is know of. Infamous for being assume a cultist island that has abandoned contacting to the rest humanity. That is according to the rest of the world." He puts a mask to hand and I find myself also holding it, "This is the item you seal me in and I have been following you around, scared that you become demon enslaved."

" This is a lot to take. A lot of nonsense that doesn't need to be here." I vented at the mirror. I find my reflect is acting as it should. Movement the show be right. It were just now this clay painted mask, in my hands that wasn't there before I entered this bathroom.

It fits on perfectly without being strapped or any other holdings. It's exactly like how Jim Carrier would wear it. Not green like his but that body modifications and suddenness to play with fire at my finger tips. Make the water from the sink freeze and then instantly zape.

Broken. Its exactly how to fit what is going on.

The ghost side is still listing nonsense at the end of the bed, jolting from the second I sat back down at the bed. He frowns and smile with a splitting creak in the porcelain like plate.

"So anyways... Where is the next logical step?"

"Getting breakfast and going to church."

Bag packed up and putting the sign on the door knob for the cleaners to know. I leave no stone unturned for what can and can not take.

Near the lobby, this hotel offers free continental breakfast buffet. Cheap catering work but does the job. I had my fill alone in the corner. At first when hardly anyones around, it was nice. Bacon cob packed away for later as a lunch. I know when I am not welcome, cocked brows inspecting my every move.

It was the sort of confirmation I was seeking from strangers. The new look is working. The mix of what an American would consider a Hoodium or what the British call the Chav.

The cheap brand clothing that acts expensive. Close shaved hair with the side patterns. Snicker trainer shoes that were actually expensive. The plain logo stamped hoodie to complete. Attention give but avoided for being assume as a nuisance to the wider society.