Where God Sleeps

Thousands of stars weave their way through the night sky. In the land of my birth, many of these stars could not be seen by the naked eye; instead, there was the constant glare of street lights and flashing neon signs. Nature was dying, and a new ecosystem was evolving that the killer apes adapted to quickly, for adaptation was their major talent. We could get used to just about anything, even that which killed everything else. Only animals as ruthless as us could make it in our new, improved nature, save for the occasional rabbit come to feast on flower beds. "Move along slowly now. God is sleeping," I say to myself. "We are His dream." "More like a nightmare you mean," myself responds, but I shrug off the comment. "A nightmare is a dream as well." "That's why the world is a living hell."