I looked at myself and I looked at the paper before me, drawings of these humans I was tasked with creating scattered around the page. For five days and nights I had worked, trying to make them perfect; giving them limbs and characteristics I had always found my kind lacking. Before me sat an ugly lump, waiting for life to be breathed into it.

It lacked the natural beauty of the existing animals that others of my kind had created. It would have no great speed and no smooth, fur coat. It would have no huge jumping ability or talons or fangs to methodically tear apart its prey. Instead, I gave it a brain more powerful than any other existing animal. I had been warned of giving such a powerful brain, for no matter what it was meant for, it could always be used for evil.

Where I found myself lacking limbs, I gave it limbs, and where I found myself lacking senses, I gave it senses. It ended up with just two legs for walking, unlike the other animals, and two arms to hang uselessly by its side, but with the ability to be both delicate and strong and to hold tools or food as it may need.

Five days and nights I worked, giving it tiny fingers that were nimble and precise, capable of crafting whatever idea may come to its brilliant mind. I had great hopes for these humans I created, so little in comparison to so many other great animals created before them that they surely must learn to coexist.

And on the sixth day, I gave them life. My project was complete, and out walked the first of these humans. But now I sit here, many thousands of years later, the last of my kind that were hunted and killed by my own creation. I look on from above, appalled at the horrors these brilliant minds are capable of as they tear apart their Earth and the other creations and even each other with complete disregard for the care with which each was created. I look on with regret at my terrible mistake, and I rue the day I gave them the strongest of minds, foolishly hoping they would use them for good.