At school they tell everyone that they're special. They give trophies for participation, and for doing basic human duties. In middle school, I remember being given a reward because someone saw me throwing away a piece of trash. I was told that I was an "upstander, not a bystander" because I picked up some trash that wasn't mine. because I wouldn't just watch litter happen and not do anything about it. They tried to make me feel above average because I had an atom of motivation in me to use my opposable thumbs to move something about three feet into a trash can. They came up and gave me a free coupon for ice cream or something and a colorful sheet of paper with my name hurriedly misspelled on it. Guess where it went? The trash can.

Parents and teachers try so hard to make their children feel special, that their children believe it. What good does it do? It only makes the realization that they're not special even harder. It makes people feel like they are the protagonists in the universe, when they need to eventually accept the fact that they mean nothing, just like all the rest of mankind. Once we accept that, things are easier.

Your heart beats like the rhythm of eternity. The drums of my life that play for me. I only wish that I could do the same for you. I know my heart is weak. But your heart is strong.

Hearing your beating chest. Your beautiful voice. It makes my heart race.

Your heart is strong.

I wish I was too.

I play my song as hard as I can. But can you hear it? It gets weaker by the day. I'm afraid I can't play it anymore. I'm not as strong as you.

I'm lucky to have met you. I'm lucky to have fallen in love with you. We've been playing the same beat. My song is going to join yours now.

 It's just about to end. Hush now, please don't cry.

It's the same beat as yours.

Please, be strong. Have some heart.

The moon and stars lighting up the night sky. The amazing, everlasting silence. The beautiful darkness. If I could, I would just get up and run. Run away, run through the night. There's just something about the darkness, the cool air that intrigues me, makes me happy.

The night is revealing. Sitting in the dark, alone, with no one but yourself and the world around you, the silence, you can discover truths about yourself that may normally be hidden in the day.

The stars and moon will forever be my best friends. The dark holds secrets the daytime will never know. It comforts me, keeps me company. If I could, I would run into the night. I would hide away during the day, and the night would become my guardian. Because the night cared for me when no one else did. The night is a gift, beautiful and eternal.

There's nothing better than the night.

     I fought to conceal the smile forming on my lips. I brought my glass up to hide the growing grin. I would not give him the satisfaction of my laughter after that godawful pun.

     “I saw it, I saw that smile!” They exclaimed, their grin that of pure joy and I couldn’t help but smile back.

     I shook my head and lowered my glass, “Don’t patronize me,” I replied, with no real meaning in the words. Our laughter died down and it grew quiet. In the silence I found the courage to start the conversation I knew we need to have.

     “Okay, I have to admit, I didn’t believe the whole God thing on our first date,” I confessed.

     “Yeah, when I look back, I probably shouldn’t have teleported us to see the northern lights out of the blue like I did,”

     “A warning would have been nice,” I said shifting in my chair, “And you’re probably expecting it, but I have a few questions,” I was raised Catholic, but I was never devout, never having the faith others did. God had approached me in mortal form to ask for the first date and when it slipped out that they were God, I didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe. I almost refused the requested second date. I didn’t want to associate with a deity I held no faith in. And despite God proving their status, I still did not have any religious faith for them and I did not want to face him when I held such a secret. Yet here I was, hoping maybe something would change. Hoping they would give me an answer that would change the disbelief I still held.

     They sat straighter giving me their full attention, “Ask away-”

     “How old are you?” I asked suddenly.

     Their eyebrows lifted in surprise, “Oh wow, umm, only about four thousand years? Have to say no one’s asked me that in a while.”

     My mouth went dry; I was shocked. Not by how old, but because of how young, “I-” I cleared my throat and started again. “I thought it would be in the billions at least, was actually expecting the ‘beginning of time’ line.” I admitted.

     “Well,” They replied hesitantly, “I actually wasn’t the first god, and I won’t be the last,”

I stared at God, evaluating their words. Was ‘God’ just a job title? Did they cycle through? Did Gods retire? Did they die? God claimed to be four thousand years old, and that they weren’t the only god. From what I remembered from the Bible, neither of those statements was supposed to be true. God watched as I chewed on my bottom lip, my brows burrowed in confusion. I opened my mouth to voice my confusion when another thought shot into my mind.

     “Did you mean you were not the only Christian God, or you were not the only god,” I spoke carefully.

     “I am not the only god,” They started in a cautious voice, “Judaism started about four thousand years ago, that is when I began, and when the religion began to form. Most religions formed because there was a god, or gods, that inspired faith among the people. I was lucky enough to be able to do such a thing. I have powers and knowledge and so do others, I am not the only God,” they began to spout. “I am not the only God that deserves worshipers. There are people who do not believe in any God, and they deserve no less respect than those who do. Not everything in the bible happened; some things got blown out of proportion, some of it the people just wanted to believe, so they did.” The words came out raw and unprepared. They’re respect and views were genuine. They glanced to the side, their body tense and eyes filled with uncertainty. They rubbed the back of their neck and kept their gaze away from the table. The table was quiet as we sought for words to say.

     “So, tell me,” I started, “are there god’s night?”

Their eyes snapped to mine, “What?” They asked, somewhat hesitant.

     “You know, like girl’s night but with all the gods! You guys have to have gotten together and hung out!” I determined, “You better not tell me that in your four thousand years of life, you and the other deities haven’t gone out and had fun at least once.”

They quickly regained composure, trying to laugh off their shock “I can’t reveal all my secrets in one night,”

     “On the first date we got philosophical about the meaning of life, the second date I learn there are other gods, but I have to wait till the third date to learn whether or not you’ve hung out with Zeus? You’re trying to keep this mysterious god persona, but I already know you’re a goof who tells puns,” I said blatantly.

     They shook their head in disbelief, a small smile on their lips “Well, since my covers blown,” They said with a shrug, “Why did a hawk land on a church’s steeple?” I glared at them a smile tugging at my lips.

     They leaned across the table, already looking delighted “Because it was a bird of pray,”

     “Oh my God,” I moaned leaning back in my chair.

     My eyes widened. I tensed up and dared to look at them to see if they had realized. They were already looking at me with a smug smile.

     “I think that counts as a pun,” They claimed.

     “I’m done, I’m leaving,” I said halfheartedly, “you’re rubbing off on me and I won’t stand for it,”

     “Then how are you going to leave if you don’t stand?”

     I couldn’t help it, I laughed. It was all absurd. I was on a second date with God. A god who ate dinner and told puns and corny jokes. A god that was nothing like I expected at all. They were normal. So much so, I could forget I was even speaking to a god. I heard their laughter with mine and despite it all my grin grew wider.

      After a long while our laughter died down. “Why are we doing this,” I asked the one questioned that had been on my mind since staring at the brilliant streaks of Aurora Borealis, “Why are you doing this?”

     The god sobered as they looked at me with a tender gaze, “Because you make me feel more human than I have in a very long time,”

Lilan, a young woman with a wide-eyed and wild spirit, lifted her hand to the midnight sky. She reached her fingers towards the stars, hoping to touch the dazzling beauties. But she couldn't, it was far too impossible for her, a novice mage, to do such a thing. Her mother once touched a star, she said it pricked her finger but made her body tremble with a feeling she couldn't describe perfectly.

"Tingling. Hot. Refreshing. Eye-opening." Her mother whispered to Lilan, the last night her mother was seen.

Lilan stared above, believing with her heart her mother was up there.

There's always that one friend who sticks to the group like a discount sticker on a used book, and who is tolerated by necessity because any removal might leave behind a sticky residue. Among Skye, Keith, and Kim, this was Lames, whose Mom had long admitted to being high when she tried to write "James" on his birth certificate. When Skye, Keith, and Kim came upon the Cube, without hesitation they excluded Lames from the Pact. And they didn't care years later when, at Lames's 89th birthday, he glared bitterly at their youthful bodies. They could wait a little longer.