I've had my pitiful dreams and worthless ambitions. Nothing but a speck of dust on the grand canvas of our universe. I wish I could be a recognized painter, a prominent writer or a good for something actor. I was neither of those things.

He came to me in my dream, said I could be everything I ever wanted to be. Anything I start will be a finished poem, a beautiful picture. Of course, I couldn't deny Him. Thus, we had a pact - hundred of years of servitude for a lifetime of success. I didn't wake up that night.

Time has lost meaning to me. No idea how much time left to repay, but you can't blame me for not being diligent. I feel powerful sensation when I finally get to work, as if I'm being sucked into other dimension through a pin-sized hole, suffocating, grasping for air. Blackness envelops me, as I feel my insides pulled out. And, as suddenly as it begins, the feeling goes away. I am in a different body. My mind is it's own. Your deep desire for fame invited me, opened a door for me to enter.

Your fingers pick up a favorite pen, your smoothest brush. You start typing away, a letter appears one after another, midnight blue ink against ivory paper. We have an idea and we jot it down together, scribbles on the sticky note. I live through you, your most vivid dreams are now my reality, your success resonates with mine. It can last hours or days, your fervent dedication a constant burn of a star, lighting up in an ever expanding void.

But my generous gift won't last forever. Soon, fatigue will take it's toll, and I will take mine. With every drop of ink, every gram of oil I am stronger, and you are weaker. Your lifeline is my blood, your creative process is my life.

I'm not strong enough to live again yet. Once I am back to this world everyone will see my grandeur. I will claim what you owe as mine. For now, you can bask in my glory.

I will always be beside you.

Faithfully yours,

God.

# stories

Beside you