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Balam was loved by all. Sexy, handsome, strong; a god. Everyone thought this. With his shaggy dark green hair, his slanty almond shaped come-hither eyes, and his tan skin they couldn't help but think this. Everyone showered him with gold. He loved gold.

"Good morning sexy," he declared as he stared at himself in the thousands of mirrors that coated every service of his room. "Why, good morning to you too, you sexy beast!"

"Satan damn you Balam! Bring your mother some humans!" roared an angry voice.

"But.... motherrrrrrr! I am a GOD. Get your own food," cried Balam, holding a hand to his cheek.

"A god?! You stupid kid! Get me my FOOD!"

Sighing, Balam threw on his gold and black high school uniform he'd stolen from some guy. Angrily, he then threw open his room door smashing it against the walls of bones and causing them to rattle. He stalked down the long dark hallway to the dungeon where a bunch of humans gripped the bars as he walked by. They were filthy skin and bones. Balam winced.

"Mortals, your god has come to end your suffering!" he declared, holding a hand out to them.

A prisoner, not much older then he was, snorted. "You say that every day, and then take us away to be brutally slaughtered. You're no god. Gods are all knowing and you know NOTHING about us."

Balam narrowed his eyes and pulled out his throwing knifes. He toyed with the sharp edge, watching it glint in the murky light. "You, what is your name?"

The prisoner laughed. "My name? A long time ago my name was Hydrick."

Balam looked him over; Faded red hair plastered to faded freckled face, tired skin that clung to his bones and a dull stealy glint in his pale blue eyes. Balam laughed.

"You will do."

Balam flicked his wrist sending one of his throwing knifes with a thwunk into the prisoners temple before he could blink. Blood oozed down teh face. For a quick second, Balam felt a pang of sadness. Then it was gone like a scent on the wind. With a clink the rusty cage was unlocked, and then the shackles. Balam lifted the body over his shoulders and strode away.

He looked over his shoulders at the imprisoned multitudes. "Your god is leaving you. Cry, you hopeless mortals. Cry."

He left the body at his mother's scaly red feet. He left and for the first time he felt quesy as he heard his mother's powerful jaw ripping and squelching off the flesh.