Yes, I’m giving you a prologue, so put down your coffee and hear me out. My childhood is what got me thrown into Hell—yes, the real “mythical” place of torture and demons who don’t know how to shut up with the wailing and moaning in the background—preventing a simple prisoner from getting a second’s worth of rest. Yes, that hell your grandmother warned you about if you continued to be a rotten little twat.
Looking back, my confusing “adventures” began at age ten. Father decided to test me with some crappy trial of his and soon, I found myself enrolled at a human world elementary school. Fast forward a few months and I dreaded every day. Gods and their tests—so annoying, am I right, or am I right? It’s not worse than living with humans.
Project day is supposed to be the chance for children to show off their smarts or spend parents’ money on batteries, mediocre gadgets, and gizmos. A fun time, right? Oh, the potential.
The teacher took us to an auditorium suspiciously located in the back of the school and sat in the front row as we lined up to go on stage. For some unexplained reason, this was a class-only day and parents weren’t allowed to show up. The teacher made up a bad excuse to deter any outraged parents, though I was sure more than ninety percent of them were pleased.
“Get in line and when I call your name, step forward, present your crap, then take a seat,” the teacher barked. “Little shits.”
As we scurried to the stage, someone brought out their leg. Yep, of course I tripped over it. An explosion of stars clouded my vision as I faceplanted onto painful, solid steel stairs. If I were human, I’d be bleeding right now. My classmates laughed as they strolled past me, no one offering to help. In fact, I felt a kick or two. The teacher simply sat there, small smile, on her makeup-plastered face. Someone had to pay for this, but I digress.
I had to be better than these pesky humans—just had to be. Imagine going overboard to beat the hell out of a four-year-old for stomping your foot. Anger inducing, but unnecessary. I just had to get through the day.
The line dragged on for what felt like hours. When it was finally my turn, the teacher yawned loudly.
“Mister perfect grade student, let’s see what you can grace us with today,” she said, snark in her tone. “Will it be another attempt to insult me as a teacher, or a jab at putting your fellow classmates to shame? Mr. know-it-all, goody two shoes.”
What in the flip was she talking about, I barely talk to any of these savages. How can you communicate with a pseudo-primate that would rather beat you in the face than listen to any helpful word that came out of your mouth? The monsters had no idea just how many lessons Father made sure I attended in addition to going to our realm’s highest school. The education on earth was a complete joke. Still, I never once rubbed my knowledge in their faces.
I only explained what needed to be explained when pointed to in class and then sat down. For some reason, that left the others with their mouths agape, which I assumed was the default-state of a surprised human.
Anyway, I presented my project at a slightly dumbed-down college level as usual, ignoring any boos, yells to get off the stage, or other insults. The teacher looked bored when I finished. “I’m failing you.”
“What?” I said, straining against the anger that wanted to explode from me.
“You heard me you little shit, I’m failing your ass,” she barked. “All of your grades will be null and void. I’ll recommend you up for expulsion in account of constantly disrupting my goddamn class. The principle loves my little gifts to him and will oblige without question.” She threw an apple, some kid left for her earlier, catching a good blow at the center of my face. The apple hit with enough force to explode. Everyone around laughed. This was really happening—no dream, no premonition. Reality. My blood boiled. Forget Father’s stupid trials, forget trying to fit in with the human society, forget learning about them, forget making friends. I wasn’t just a demigod, I was the Son of Conus, the heir of the universal throne.
I wanted to like humans, but this humiliation wasn’t worth whatever Father tried to achieve. I wanted no more bruises, cuts, black eyes, shoves to the floor, trips, lockers filled with smelly matter, death threats written about me on desks—no more of that! Two can play the asshole game.
Power surged through my body in an instant. As an unexpected and unwanted bonus, my anger forfeited any control. The warmth of what I knew to be golden, heavenly light outlined me. I laughed, then issued out divine punishment.
Let this be a lesson: do not piss off a demigod. Starting with the teacher, I simply blinked a whiff of power into the air she breathed. I imagined her as a giant deck of playing cards. She screamed seconds before the transformation happened.
I didn’t stop there.
My wrath was just beginning. With the snap of a finger, the cards exploded into flames. Still unsatisfied, enraged, I pointed at the floor and released more strands of power. That caused the entire place to burst into flames, students included. I shook my head.
Everything burned in rhythm like an orchestra. The room blackened of thick smoke. Powers still out of control, I rose maybe five feet into the air, eyes glued to the screaming students. They tried to run, but I had already immobilized them.
The part of me that was simply a backseat consciousness did not wish for this. I wanted to help the people, not hurt them. I tried to undo the damage, but couldn’t regain control. Memories of the cruel treatment solidified the wrath.
“You may be wondering why you’re dying right now,” I said…or was it really me talking? “Let it soak in. Burn, baby, burn.”
I released enough power to create a hundred suns and then some. The entire classroom turned into space. Literal space.
That’s when I snapped out of it, comprehending that I had just destroyed reality. Shit…not again. These uncontrollable powers.
There wasn’t a single excuse that would work. Warnings were done. Father’s severe punishment awaited…
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- The Enlightener
Alvin Atwater is a man of humor, a starving author. With a unique writing style that can outshine even Jim Butcher, Patria Briggs, or Kevin Hearne, he is a character-driven lovable lump of mass. Born in Florida, he's on a mission to defeat his arch nemesis, Florida Man, once and for all.
Don't be shy. Give him a wave. A read. And maybe whisper, "waffles," because the man loves his waffles. It's a miracle his keyboard doesn't have maple syrup all over it.
Best of all, Alvin Atwater can be found all over the net. Read some seriously funny things from Webnovel, Wattpad, Penana, Scriggler, StoryStar.
Author of the Blood for Soul series and a secret coming-of-the-age epic fantasy. Lover of anime and manga: so yeah, weeb shit? Fun. Sue me haha.
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