There once was a lonely god, who had created countless worlds. Every time, the worlds crumpled into tiny, sharp pieces, and the god himself didn't know why. He cried for a long time, wandering, unseeing, yet still created another world, thinking that the last one was a dream.
In each world that he made, he found a tree, a pond, a mountain, where people would whisper and yell wishes. The god never ignored the words of his creations. Whatever was spoken to him, he listened. He granted everything to everyone. Then the wishes built up, turned to pleas, suspicions, accusations. So the god would be driven out.
One time, the god was sitting in a tree. It was where he met a girl, who didn't have an eye. Like a breeze, the girl whispered that she would like her eye back. It was burned horribly in an accident, and she now spent every day crying, miserable. The god didn't think much about it, and he reached out to give the girl a new eye.
The girl didn't want to get more. She didn't ask about what the god was, or where he had come from. She simply stared and left. Then the next day, she returned, and soon enough, began a conversation.
It was the first time that the god had talked to anyone, except for to listen to their wishes. He began to smile. And every day, he waited for the girl.
Another day, a man found the tree. He was an empty being who had run out of tears some time ago. Kneeling, he wished for rain. A rain that would erase everything. And the god hesitated, but still listened.
As the god sat beneath the tree, watching his world end, the girl found him one last time. As she began to dissolve with the rain, she told the god to only listen to people's last wishes. Something that they uttered as they died. Things that they had lost, or wanted. Things that had only ended at a simple wish, filled with pain and longing.
Then the girl said, smiling, that she would like to be a small island without a name. An island filled with those wishes. She wanted to remain there, not disappearing, not crumbling, for the god to visit whenever he felt like crying.
The god granted her wish.
Later, sitting on the small island, he looked around at the blooming, colorful flowers, the green grass, and an endlessly blue ocean. He thought about many things, laying limp on the grass, then cried. Cried. Cried.
He decided to become one of the blue flowers that grew next to him. He didn't want to make any more worlds, or destroy one. He wanted to wait for the time when he would be healed, until everything would feel peaceful once again. To wish for happiness one more time, waiting for a day in the future that would never come.
And the god faded into a small flower. It never died, or grew. Sleeping quietly, the god listened to the last wishes of countless voices. And he brought them onto the island, just as the girl had wished.
The first wish was of a man, who had wanted to die after everything that he cared for left before him. On the island, he had the power to make miracles. If he wished for a long time, and strongly, he could make the grass last through winter. And until the island disappeared, he knew that he would remain on it.
The second wish was from a small girl, who had been born in an unfortunate stretch of time. She danced for deities, and lived inside a small, dirty building without anybody else. Then, one day, she was drowned in the sea as an offering to a deity. Another girl was supposed be offered instead, yet for she was rich and more beautiful, another girl with the same-colored hair had been chosen. As she died, the small girl wished to be born as a boy, so that she could live more freely as herself, and not be a copy of anybody else.
On the island, she was born as a boy, with smiles that never left his face, and a tendency to love walking and drawing. Yet, although even himself didn't know why, he would despise going near the sea. So he stayed deeply shrouded in a mountain.
Other than the two, countless others came and stayed. But some did leave. If they did something that would go against their dying wish, they would dissolve into a fine powder of opal.
And, amongst all the leaving and arriving, the blue flower stayed where it was, silent. It watched the island, and listened to the wishes. Then another soul would soon arrive.
It was a small, imaginary island, brimming with made-up satisfaction, yet full of happiness with a name of comfort; a world too beautifully made, enough for the beauty to mean grief.
And there would always be a god, blaming himself, clawing at the bleeding wound on his chest, lost in-between dream and reality.
Kinda cool. Looking at it, I don't really see anything that needs to be fixed, but I will go through see if I can find anything. 
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