Midas' Perspective
A man slept on a mountain of stone.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
The Chappal Waddi Mountain in Taraba.
His body lay sprawled across a heap of broken rock like someone who had collapsed halfway through a very long day and refused to move afterward.
Dust coated his skin.
His hair was tangled with dirt and dried leaves.
Small pebbles rested on his chest like they had grown comfortable there.
Above his head hovered a faint halo.
Crooked.
Lazy.
Barely glowing.
If halos were supposed to symbolize divine authority, this one looked like it had overslept as well.
The man snored quietly.
Then a voice echoed through the darkness.
Soft.
Playful.
"My love."
The man's eyelids twitched.
"Midas."
He groaned.
A slow, exhausted sound that suggested he already regretted waking up.
"…is it time?"
His mind stirred reluctantly.
A memory surfaced.
A black coffin.
Standing upright on the earth, blood smeared across the ground.
Something important about that.
Something irritating.
Midas slowly opened one eye.
Then the other.
Reality immediately began behaving strangely.
Flowers burst from the soil around him.
Bright.
Colorful.
Uninvited.
Trees erupted from the ground, branches stretching outward as fruit ripened instantly along their limbs.
A river appeared nearby, flowing with soft golden sunlight across its surface.
Birds sang.
Wind carried the scent of fresh blossoms.
In seconds the barren stone mountain transformed into a peaceful garden.
Which would have been impressive if Midas hadn't clearly seen it happen before.
He kicked the flowers. They were growing too close.
Voices echoed through the air.
Soft.
Adoring.
He clicked his tongue.
"Our loyal executioner."
"The right hand of the gods."
"My conqueror."
"He who makes me a prisoner in his heart."
"Midas."
Midas sighed deeply.
The sound carried the weight of a man who had been hearing variations of those compliments for several centuries longer than necessary.
He rubbed his forehead slowly.
Then something warm wrapped around him from behind.
A woman formed out of soft pink light.
Her arms slid around his shoulders as she pressed against his back.
She laughed gently.
"Oshun missed you."
Midas groaned.
"This ashawo is giving me a headache."
Oshun giggled.
The sound carried the soft ripple of river water over smooth stone.
"You always say that."
She rested her chin on his shoulder and watched his face with amused patience.
Midas slowly sat up.
Dust fell from his body in lazy streams.
Leaves dropped from his hair.
The halo above his head flickered faintly, as if considering whether it should try harder.
Then a rusted staff appeared in front of them.
It planted itself into the ground with quiet authority.
Ancient symbols carved along its surface glowed faintly.
The metal looked old enough to have been present during several regrettable moments in history.
Midas stared at it.
Then he stared at the sky.
Then he stared back at the staff.
Finally, he sighed.
"It's too early."
Oshun squeezed him tighter.
"But he is awake."
Midas frowned slightly.
"You still want to kill him?"
Oshun tilted her head.
Her expression was perfectly innocent.
"As the deity of love and fertility," she said sweetly, "hostility cannot be condoned in my domain."
Midas stared at her.
For a long moment, he considered the statement carefully.
Then he opened his mouth.
"Bullshit"
Oshun placed a finger gently over his lips.
The entire world went dark.
For exactly one second.
Just long enough for reality to remember who was actually in charge of this particular garden.
"SURPRISE ME."
She kissed his cheek.
Light returned instantly.
The river continued flowing.
Birds resumed singing.
The fruit trees swayed gently in the warm breeze.
Midas stared forward in silence.
Then he sighed again.
The long-suffering sigh of a man who had spent centuries trying to explain logic to a deity who found logic extremely unromantic.
He plucked a glowing flower from the ground.
Placed it carefully in Oshun's hair.
"Then you should have no worries."
A faint smile crossed his face.
"I am my servant's servant after all."
Her smile lingered a bit, before she began to fade slowly.
"Well, whose fault is that?"
Her body dissolved into soft ribbons of pink light drifting gently into the air.
Before disappearing completely she tilted her head slightly.
"A keepsake?" she asked.
Midas stared toward the distant horizon.
The garden wind rustled through the trees.
Something unpleasant flickered briefly across his memory.
A black coffin.
A stubborn man.
A very predictable mistake.
Midas shrugged.
"His head."
Oshun laughed softly as she vanished.
The garden disappeared immediately afterward.
The river collapsed into dry dust.
The trees crumbled into dead branches.
The flowers shriveled and died.
Within seconds the beautiful paradise returned to its original state.
A lonely mountain of stone.
Silent, cold, and unimpressed.
Only two things remained.
Midas.
And the staff.
He stretched slowly.
His bones cracked loudly.
Dust rolled off his shoulders.
"Now then…"
He scratched his head lazily.
The halo above him flickered again.
"…where did I drop that coffin again?"