Whom’st’d’ve Done This

“I-I have money! I’ll give you it all!”

“A moment of your time, just a moment is all I ask!”

“I beg of you, please... please... What do you want? I just need a little...”

“It’s not for me, I promise. It’s for my husband. He needs it. We need it. Can you spare some?”

“How fortunate you are to have such a wonderful power! You must have done something special to find favor with the gods.”

“You were blessed by the gods! How dare you withhold it! What gave you the right?”

“You selfish child! How could you forsake these people that believed in you?”

“These people are suffering and you will do nothing about it? You don’t care, do you? You never did.”

Mariko had a power. The power to bless and the power to heal. Fortune followed those she smiled upon. She could heal the sick, mend the wounded, and save the dying. Money fell into people’s laps when she winked at them. Barren women became pregnant when she laughed. Flowers bloomed where she danced and music played when she sang. A little goddess, she was.

But it wasn’t true, wasn’t right what the people said. She wasn’t blessed by the gods, she was cursed by them. They wanted her to suffer and writhe on the ground for their amusement. And no one disobeyed the gods. So, she suffered. Her hair was pulled out and portions of her skin and flesh was cut away by fervent worshippers wanting nothing but a piece of her to have. She was shoved to the ground by angry rioters and nonbelievers, kicked and spit on for being a false prophet. And all the while, she looked up at the gods hidden among the people, and watched them smirk and laugh behind elaborate fans and heavy makeup.

Mariko was 25 when she heard the news. A prostitute from the next country over was revealed to be the reincarnation of the goddess of beauty. Surely, she thought, this was an unfortunate soul just like me. I will pay them a visit. Perhaps there is someone to share in my sorrow.

So, she traveled days through woods and cities alike, hiding her face from the people she passed and crying out in fear when someone recognized her.

Upon her arrival, she glimpsed the one. And right behind them was a god. The god was smiling sweetly and she knew. This person was not a suffering human, nor were they the reincarnation of a god. They were the child of a god, and that meant she was inferior to them in every way. The blessings the people thought she had, they actually did. Their skin and hair would be protected from blemish and their followers were loyal and real.

Mariko called her own followers around her, for she had an announcement. The rumors were false, the prostitute was the prophet of an evil god and not to be trusted. In fact, they could not be allowed to live.

It’s Wednesday and I am a stressed penguin so pardon any mistakes or brief bits of writing. Anyway, have a good day, peeps! :)

Hero read and re-read the note Villain’s Henchman had given them. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Written on a party invitation with colourful balloons, was a threat. They gripped it harder as though it would magically turn into something less sinister.

I have your lover. Best come to the old factory now. Come alone- and don’t disappoint me.

Hero knew where Villain was referring to. They rushed there, hoping they weren’t too late. How had Villain even found out they were lovers? They’d only been dating a few weeks. Were they being spied on? What if their lover wasn’t there? Maybe Villain assumed Hero was with someone or hell, maybe their lover was on Villain’s side.

No. Drowning out the bombardment of thoughts and insecurities was not easy. All Hero could do was run, to get to their lover as fast as they could. They had no idea what Villain was planning in there, and the factory had so much dangerous machinery… It was a relief when the factory came into sight. It was only then Hero stopped, panting and gasping for air. They needed to stop, to think, maybe even come up with a shambles of a plan.

A yelp coming from the factory forced Hero to start running again. They climbed up a stack of rotting crates and slipped in through a broken window. Once inside they saw Villain.

“Aw hell no!” they exclaimed. Hero stood gawking at Villain and the person beside them, tied up and wriggling on the floor. That person was their ex.

“That wasn’t quite the reaction I was expecting to hear,” Villain remarked.

“For the last time,” the ex, shouted, “we aren’t dating!”

Hero stared at Villain for a few minutes. “You must think you’ve done well this time, huh?”

“That’s because I have-”

“They’re my ex, you idiot. Last time I saw them we were fighting in the street and had to get dragged off each other.”

Villain burst out laughing.

Hero’s ex stared daggers at Hero. “If you leave me here, I swear I will bite your ankles off. This is all your fault. Get me out of here, now!”

“It’d serve you right,” Hero grumbled, but their focus was on Villain and directing their frustration to clenched fists.

Villain rubbed their hands together and their grin seemed wider than proportions should have allowed, “honestly, I think this even more exciting! We all know you’d do anything for someone you love, but well, let’s see how you react to this.”