Yes, it's me

Hey! Relax.

Look... just don't freak out. I know you're freaking out right now. I mean I am a god after all, but... I don't do autographs.

Weird mortals keep turning them into holy artefacts and other such mumbo jumbo. My friend told me that one time he signed this biography some guy wrote about him and it became a holy book.

Urgh, I get shivers just thinking about that. Creepy.

So... anyway. Hi, My name is Story. I am the embodiment of an Idea as all gods are. This probably won't come as a shock to any of you but I am the embodiment of stories.

Yes. Myths, Poems, classic tales and comics, I've even dabbled in my fair share of erotica. I govern the laws of such stories, real or imaginary. It doesn't matter to me, as long as I get a kick out of it.

I've been around for, well... They do say it's rude to ask an omniscient genderless being their age. And it's not like you could tell from looking at me.

Look, you probably wouldn't get it but, I have no set form. I just sort of exist in whatever form suits me. Right now I'm in the form of a traditional angel. It's easy to move about in and has lovely soft wings, not too big, nor too small, just the right amount of limbs. All that good stuff.

Anyway, I've been around since there were stories. So I guess it depends who you ask. The definition of a Story is somewhat up for debate. But, let's just say I've been about for a long, long time.

As long as there were stories, there was me. As long as there was me, there were stories. It's a pretty co-dependent relationship.

The only problem is, I've been around for a very long time. And I've seen an awful lot of stories. Too many to count. Too many to fathom.

And... I got bored.

So one day I was narrating this story. Oh, that's my job as well by the way. Anyway, I was narrating this story about some caveman, beating another caveman across the head with a rock.

I was with War at the time and he was all: "Yeah kill the bastard!" And he kept making them angrier with each other and they kept hitting each other. But, I couldn't really concentrate on the story because War was shouting at the two guys and Love was crying in the background.

Love was there too by the way. I don't know if I mentioned that. Anyway, Love was crying when she watched those two cavemen fighting.

She kept saying something along the lines of: "Why can't you just let them get along? Those two were friends. Why would they have to kill each other over some shiny rock?"

Honestly, she had a point. This was a pretty cliche storyline in those days. It usually went something like this.

Step 1. Caveman A finds a shiny rock and brings it home.

Step 2. Caveman B sees Caveman A's shiny rock and wants it

Step 3. Both of them fight over the rock and die from infections in their wounds.

I remember seeing this same story happening over and over again. Sometimes it wasn't a shiny rock. Maybe it was some berries or something, it didn't really matter. I named this thing they fought over a Macguffin.

Any excuse he could get and War would start a fight. Over and over again. Love would complain about the fight and I would watch.

Always watching, always the same thing.

Forever.

I couldn't take it anymore. It was all so boring, all the stories were the same. Predictable as all hell and boring. "I was born in the wrong generation!" I cried. And then I made up my mind. I decided to go to sleep. Something I hadn't done since the beginning of everything.

Since I didn't want to miss anything fun I called over my buddy Time and asked him to wake me up when things got interesting. Times a nice guy, a little slow maybe, but nice. So he said sure.

Then I went to my pal Dream's house and asked to be put to sleep. He gave me a warm glass of something called 'Milk' and sent me on my way.

After I had put my affairs in order I was ready. I lay down in the stars and slept. Dreaming of heroic tales and mythic odysseys that hadn't even been written yet.

Today, I woke up.