Golden Gilbert

This was a night just like any other. Gilbert was sitting in his individual couch, in front of the stove, in the middle of the coldest winter he lived, drinking mate and listening to the house making it’s strange noises, whispering right into his ears. He got used to it. They became friends after long years of being afraid of eachother. Of ocurse, he quickly became bored. He got up, and walked through the hallway, turned left and stopped right under the doorframe, checking the room upside down with his sight, seeking for a glitch that never was there. When he was sure of everything being normal, he walked and kneeled in front of the nightstand, he opened the drawer, moved a few papers and keys, pressed a button, and a secret little hatch opened in the bottom of the drawer. There it was, the so loved bag filled with that light-blue powder that Gilbert loves so much. He took it and walked back to the living room. He sat down and snort it, right from the bag. He spawned in the bottom of a mountain, filled with an astonishing green everywhere, so overwhelmingly humid and beautiful that he couldn’t believe it. He noticed a village, with an exquisite structure, and he approached it with no hesitation. Peo0le there were physically like everywhere else… but their behavior was so strange… like if they have learned how to be humans at an old age. And, when they saw him, they instantly fell in love with his appearance and his way of moving, speaking, and being a human. They made him their ruler, and he had it all: women, men, endless alcohol, drugs and party. But… what he wanted the most was an image of himself… made of gold. And guess what? He got it. They made it for him. He accepted it with such a pleasure, and he took it back to his home. Now, as he have to come back from time to time to check on things in his world, he left a servant doing the village ruling. He only goes back to the village when he wants to feel the power of being an absolute ruler. He’s a basterd.