A long time ago, a being called human was born in a warm, cozy dawn. Tales say a wonderful man in white robes made the stars shine, the rivers flow and the birds fly in the wide blue sky in the beginnings of the world. He could bring the miracle of life with just a touch. The world was filled in colorful magic brought by the roses and lilies, delicate sounds flew through the air like an orchestra, but the man felt something was missing. With a breath of his own, and the ribs of a monkey, he created humans.

The creatures began to work the earth and bond with animals such as the wolf and tiger. Sometimes they fought and hurt one another, and sometimes they slept in the peace of the night Soon, the wolves began reducing their size, and the tiger would begin to purr in need of a hug or a pat, the humans liked it that way, and so did the now tamed beasts.

They began making clothes as the seasons changed and as they got ashamed of how they looked when they were bare nude. For cozy brown sweaters they hunted graceful deer when they mindlessly ran through the wilderness, while for the dresses of a young vain woman they got the softest cotton from the white fluff that grew in tiny green plants. They sew and sew the skins and cotton with soft thread during night and day. After a while, sewing became an art for these creatures, instead of just a need. They called it Dress-making.

The wonderful man in robes was observing his masterpiece make a living from above in the clouds, admiring at the marvelous pieces of art his creatures would make. Long red velvet dresses, and black elegant suits for the most special occasions. Even when the dresses were sure a beauty, he noticed that every single minute there would be less and less deer, making animals that needed the deer to eat go starving for weeks and weeks.

One afternoon the man spoke with a great concern to his creatures, but they rolled their eyes at the holy words. Yet, the white fluff would cover entire meadows, since the humans gathered the seeds and spread them all over the green mats. They weren't concerned for deer, but were clever enough to not let their fluffy plants extinguish.

When the freezing December had arrived, many humans would perish in the cold, not even their elegant suits and dresses would warm their nose in the slightest. They would then shape bricks out of clay coming out of the bottom of rivers with millions of fish. They would build many and many beautiful houses from the bricks, which they painted with the dye they found around the meadows. Soon, this also became an art to the humans. They called it Architecture.

To the creator it didn't seem a problem for a while, until he noticed his creatures would cut down entire forests to get space for their buildings, leaving hundreds of animals without a home or source for their food. Then again, but with a greater concern, he yelled loudly with a frown to his creatures. The humans picked their nose at the idea their creator had proposed, and soon had left to play with the tiny wolves and tigers they had raised.

Once the snow white winter was over, the humans found a new use for the trees they had previously cut down and the leftover of the dyes they had used to paint their gorgeous houses. The younger creatures would playfully dip their fingers in the paints and then make simple, flawed drawings of their wolves, houses, or even the meadows, the things you would expect of a simple and flawed mind. However, the older humans painted marvelously done, detailed pieces representing their feelings, what they liked, how they lived or just simply someone meaningful. This soon was another art for the humans. They called the materials Paper and Paints, and the execution of it was named Painting.

However, they had also gotten way too much clay out the bottom of rivers, making it a huge waste of materials. They planned on building more houses, but there were already enough buildings for the amount of people. That same day, a little kid invented another art with the remaining soft clay. They named it Sculpture.
And so on, the humans invented more and more and even more fantastical things. They made arts like literature and music. They made beautiful buildings like the Great Wall and the Twin Columns. They even made up papers to exchange things called Money.

The wonderful man was pleased with the fantastic pieces made by the humans, some of the humans even made sculptures and stories in his honor. Yet, there was a huge frown in his face that couldn't go away, a feeling something was wrong.

He looked at the beautiful world that once was filled in colorful, magical flowers and their scent filling meadows, the delicate singing of the crickets and millions of birds. It was dull, gray, and lifeless. It was filled with tall buildings, masterpieces, humans but no nature.

The humans had cut millions of trees to make space for their gorgeous buildings and making the useful paper for their money and art. They dug out entire rivers to get fresh clay for their rock hard buildings and sculptures. Deer did no longer exist, not that he knew. Many of their tiny wolves and tigers were in the wilderness, without protection of their owners. Many people starved without food, since it was given to the ones with the more money, power and lighter skin between humans.

Polluted beautiful rivers that once were filled in thousands of tiny colorful fish among other animals, meadows without a trace of life and thousands of species extinguished. The humans had all done it; his masterpieces had done horrible things to his perfect and magical world.

And so he solved it. With a snap of his fingers and breath to his world, the humans ceased to exist. Nearly all trace of their existence had vanished to thin air, except for the tiny wolves and tigers; they had none of the fault and thus no reason to be gone. The birds chirped in a perfect melody, the air smelled clean and fresh. Everything was like it was before the humans had ruined it all. And with the spark of his powers, he also made a tiny house in the darkest corner of his world, where he buried a few of the masterpieces the humans had made. He treasures them as the only things worth to be remembered by his creatures.

But then again, it's only an old tale, made by a master of literacy, stored in God's tiny house.