"Good morning world!"

I stood up, stretching and glancing around my house. My clock read that it was 3:32pm. Right on schedule.  I wandered outside without even changing my clothes, for it didn't seem necessary. I checked my mailbox to find some junk mail from a store in the nearby city, a congratulatory letter from my mother, and a gift from my neighbor Al. I opened it, and inside sat a little cage with a monarch butterfly inside. I thought to myself how sweet it was of her to remember my fondness for the little bugs. I was something of a collector at the time. I stuffed it in my pocket, smiling up at my huge home before leaving to run some errands. It was the largest house of all 201 civilian homes in the neighborhood by far. I had made so many upgrades to that once tiny cottage that no more could be done to improve it. I was very pleased with the turnout of my hard work.

It was around 7:30pm, I believe, when I finished my daily routine of selling collectables and other assorted items I find around the island to my local storeowner. His store had been empty, however, for quite a while now. I suppose I had bought everything he had to sell. I sometimes pondered how he didn't go out of business. Anyway, that day's finds had rung up a hearty total, and I was ecstatic to be able to finally purchase the last pattern in the local tailor shop. I hurried home, dropping off my monarch butterfly in my living room before heading upstairs to sleep. It had taken up the last available space in the whole house.

Another morning came, this time at 3:34pm. I checked my mail once again, finding it to be empty. I sighed with disappointment. That was odd. I scanned the shoreline for seashells as usual, finding there to be none. Slightly baffled, I decided to cast my fishing line into the river trailing through the center of my village. Not a fish to be seen. I wandered the island, my head churning with curiosity. How bizarre. Could I have really caught all the fish in the ocean? Of course not! I became slightly more concerned when I realized the absence of butterflies- as well as any other bugs- in the town. I spent hours just walking, looking for something to do. The museum was full, there were no apples on the trees, and all the shops were drained of things I could buy. I dug everywhere with my golden shovel, and couldn't find a single thing to sell. Not that it mattered anyway, the amount of money both in the bank and that I could carry with me were maxed out. Confused and slightly saddened, I gave up looking for entertainment and went to bed. My clock read 7:03pm.

The third morning was different. I mean, my house was the same, and my village as well, but I felt different. I felt… like giving up. No, not like suicide. Just as if I was finished. That's the word I'm looking for. Finished. I felt finished. It was an unpleasant emotion. In an effort to rekindle my excitement for the day to come, I switched out my current garment pattern for an old favorite. I had made it quite a while ago. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I remarked to myself how gracefully I was aging. I was one of the oldest villagers, and didn't look as if I had aged since the day I had made that very garment. I smiled, but was perplexed. How had I not noticed that before? Whatever. Maybe I was just lucky.

I wandered aimlessly around the island once again, talking to the other villagers. A few of them mentioned feeling a little strange that day too. Maybe it was a stomach bug or something. That thought was bizarre in itself, though, because I don't remember anyone ever being sick before. There were still no fish, seashells, or apples to be seen. It worried me, but I forced those thoughts of concern out of my mind, trying to discard them as simple abnormalities. That 'finished' feeling kept nagging at me, however, and I ended up back in bed. I took a final glance at my clock before falling fast asleep. It read 5:49pm.

I had never dreamed before, but that night I did. I was in a dark room, the only light coming from above and shining right down on my good friend Rover like a spotlight. I wanted to talk to him, to ask him what was going on, but I couldn't move. I was frozen, and that reality alone filled me with a rush of panic. Rover seemed unable to see me. He chatted nonchalantly with someone outside of my realm of sight. Every sense I had felt muffled, so I couldn't make out the words he was saying. Then I heard the other voice. The voice of God. It spoke with clarity in a deeper, slower tone than I had ever heard before. His words struck me clear as day and filled me with uncontrollable fear.

"Let me delete the damn house!" The Voice roared, sounding irritated. "I've beaten the game anyway. I want to start over! There's nothing left!"

Game? Delete? The information seemed nonsensical. This wasn't a game! It was my village! It was my beloved home, where my best friends lived. Where I had spent my life to make a lasting mark, blood, sweat, and tears earning the wonderful life I had. It had taken years to create! This couldn't be true! I was hyperventilating, my brain spinning. The world seemed to fall from beneath my feet as reality struck.

I never aged. I never left the island. There were exactly 200 other villagers. I was the only human. I woke up in the afternoon when God turned on the game to play. I slept when His mother sent him to bed. And God isn't God. He's just a child, a child with the lives of hundreds at his fingertips. I'm disposable. We're all disposable. We're binary codes jumbled together in the form of souls, created for the entertainment of the powerful. We're slaves. I've been controlled. Toyed with. Manipulated. My whole life has been a game. Even my parents are just actors, programmed to pretend to love me. The heartbreak, trials, tribulations, achievements, and love. None of them are real.

I don't know how, but in that moment I felt in my soul that the God hit delete.

The spotlight went out, and in its place appeared a train. An excited little human, identical to me, was being guided onto the train by smiling Rover. "Stop! Please don't go! It's a façade! It isn't real! It's all a game! A lie! NO!" I tried to scream, but it was in vain. The poor creature was already inside the vehicle.

I somehow forced myself to look up as the train began to pull away, just in time to see Rover flash me a playful  little wink.

Suddenly, I could move, and I promptly threw up on the cold floor, bawling. I wailed, screaming in agony for help and Mother and death. But I can't die, can I?

I've never lived.






[This is my first attempt at writing a Creepypasta ever, and my first time posting to a Wiki. Constructive critism welcome! I love the Haunted Gaming Segment by the way, heheheh. I wanted to try a new perspective on this stuff. I hope everybody likes it!]


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