It was a Monday, I do believe, when I was created. Some prophet wrote a book, and into existence I came like an incredibly confused spark. I was a fantasy dreamed in the mind of a delusional person, a mere idea manifested into an entity. (Or at least, I think I am an entity, but I may never be sure, as I was created to be difficult to understand, and I am no exception to that). I was a little shocked at my sudden becoming, after all, I hadn't even known that existence was an option until that day. I must admit the transfer from non-existence into existence can be quite jarring, but I digress.
I sat alone, in an empty realm, swarms of newly created truth filling my consciousness like mildly agitated bees. They said I was indescribable, so I shall remain undescribed (although I assume my appearance was at least vaguely human-shaped). My prophet was an interesting fellow, but with a tendency to put too much credence in my “Divine Powers” as the universe's ultimate creator. Whether I did create the universe I didn’t know, but my realm was filling rather quickly, and I assumed I should figure that out first.
I spent the better half of two years setting up my realm. I think I was supposed to be judgmental, and I do believe I failed in that regard, as it is difficult to judge when one achieves completely objectivity. It is odd that I could differ from how I was created, but as more people learned of me, so many versions of me existed in their minds that I was granted some form of free will. Prayers were a strange thing to get used to, no sooner had one person prayed for something then another prayed for the opposite, and it all grew terribly confusing quite quickly. My realm ended up looking quite a bit like earth, but bigger with less politics and more trees, as this seemed to be an improvement according to general consensus.
Somewhere around year fifty, I learned of the others. although I suppose I already knew, it just hadn’t seemed all that important. By this time I had grown from a small cult to a full-on religion, with most of the countryside devoted to my worship. Eventually, the others came to check up on me, welcoming me to the rapidly expanding group. For the number of gods in the heavens, there really wasn’t much conflict, the widespread agreement being that each celestial being was to take care of their own followers, and was not to tamper with the other worshipers.
Time tread ever onward like a wildebeest in migration, and things changed. My realm grew, and thriving cities of angelic priests and worshipers rose from the ground, filled with the souls of those that wished to remain in my realm. Some wanted to be reborn, and I didn’t argue, after all, I was only what they dreamed me to be.
Death was a nice enough fellow. They were one of the oldest beings in the universe, but even they had not witnessed the beginning. We had struck up quite a friendship over the years, and we often went out for tea once and a wile when we were both on the surface. They were an agent of many domains, and one of the most powerful deities. Death was particularly omnipotent, even for a god, being able to project themselves into as many places as necessary.
Death had been the one to introduce me to shape shifting. You see, many people believe in death, so many forms of them exist. Of these forms they can pick and choose as they wish. This law applies to all deities, and i had gotten slightly tired of existing in an indescribable body, so I opted for a change. the form I ended up with was a feminine one, with blue tattoos and a flowing purple sundress.
My realm was expanding quite a bit, and I filled the space with vast forests and unexplored canions. The residents seemed to approve of these changes, and the citys spread to compensate. by then it had been over a thousand years; my prophet lay buried in the earth by my first church, but I lived on. Time marches ever forward, and as I near my the end of my second millennium, i can only hope for many more to come.