I am a goddess.

I am a force of nature. The sun forms a halo around my face and I’m clothed in the moon and the stars. I lay on a throne of clouds. I am one with the sky and the Earth.

But heavy lies the head that wears the crown.

I’m the last one of my kind, and I rule my kingdom alone. I have nobody to help me. I have nobody to share my excitement and comfort my sorrows. I have no more friends or family to speak of. They all faded away long ago. A God can’t be killed by a sword but they cannot live if nobody believes in them. They fade away with their human followers, and we have no more followers of any kind. I was the youngest; I am still holding on to life, though just barely. The rest of my kind were much older and have already met their demise. Their last words of wisdom to me were “don’t let the same happen to you. You must make the people believe in you.” 

But I’m too afraid. I’m afraid they’ll judge me.

I’m a tall, dark-skinned woman. The people down below say someone like me shouldn’t be this powerful, but here I am. I am powerful, and that alone is enough to scare people and make me seem like a threat. But I’m not a threat. I’m just different, and there’s nothing wrong with being different.

There is, however, something wrong with being perceived as different.

So every day I sit quietly and watch the people down below going about their days. They think they have all the answers. They think everything is either due to science or fate. 

They’re wrong. 

Everything is a mixture of both science and fate. Science is the cause of natural processes. These natural processes pose challenges, which I send only to those who are fated to endure them. 

Sometimes, everybody is fated.

Sometimes, nobody is fated.

In that sense, I am the people’s protector.

I catch fiery lightning bolts and wrestle raging storms with my bare hands. I keep anger from violently erupting out of the most fiery volcanoes, explosive missiles, and battered hearts. I kill deadly diseases as if I were stepping on a spider. I heldI wear the resulting burns and scars like badges of honor.

Yet nobody ever notices. 

Every day I have the strongest urge to show myself to the people down below. If they only knew the perils I’ve saved them from. Maybe then they’d see. Maybe then they’d recognize I’m not a threat. Maybe then I’d have a chance at survival. I want to tell them that and make them understand, but I can never bring myself to do it. All I ever do is hope upon hope that they’ll figure it all out on their own.

But I’m tired of merely hoping. 

My worrying has never gotten me anywhere. Today is the day; it’s time for me to face my fears, step out of the shadows, and show the world who I really am. I am the one that’s been there for them since the beginning of time, and I will continue to be there for them until the end. All I ask in return is a friend. They’ll understand.

Won’t they?

They’ll like me, right? 

They won’t be afraid of me?

Actually, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.

Ok, here goes.

3…

2...

...Wait!

Do you hear that? That faint whisper in the wind?

Could it be?

Yes, it is! 

I can tell! I can feel the warm tingling of my strength coming back! My scars are healing! I feel more alive than I have in years!

Somebody’s finally noticed me, all on their own!

Somebody believes! Somebody understands!

Somebody finally said my name!