This weeks short story is based on a life drawing project created by our friend Marc Pettersen. A group of artists would draw live models and create sequential art. A story would be written to accompany the art similarly to a comic book. The art for this post was created by our very own Jeanette Andromeda. I wrote the story based on how the poses made me feel. Now let’s delve deep into this cosmic tale.
The death of a old world, the birth of a universe.
When the ancient slave of the meta-verse emerged from her thousand year sleep she was unaware of the consequences that her emergence wrought on this tiny spec of life we call Pandora. A magenta planet that was teeming with life, now a charred lump spinning around the new shiny planetoids that inhabited the heavens.
The only thought that could form in her minds eye was of the one she lost. The child of light that extinguished its spark to break her binds and unleash her glory into this reality, this world!
As the chaos subsided her gaze was treated to a landscape of light, of gas giants and glorious electric storms that danced on the surface of each celestial globe. A dance of life and destruction smoothing into a cool calm pool of midnight dotted with tiny burning embers.
She saw all and felt something once lost, wonder. The billions of deaths caused by this beautiful light show were of no concern to her. Her binds were free. Nothing else mattered. Her smooth form caressed the inky void. Her ancient corporal body stretched and her gaze that was brighter that a thousand suns set itself upon a single spec. A tiny life form that had somehow survived this apocalyptic holocaust.
Burdened by his now lonely existence the survivor sat upon a floating body of rock and wept into his helm fogging the glass with tears. Each drop representing millions of tiny deaths that had gone unnoticed.
The celestial being uncaring of her actions placed a toe upon the back of the survivor to attract his attention. He was unmoved. A void with no end was welling up inside his charred soul. He was beyond consoling if that was her intention.
The celestial being, sensing the survivor’s disdain, grew small to meet him, and to understand. She placed her star like hands upon his shoulder. Not to console but connect her mind to his through physical contact. The touch had the opposite effect she had intended. Her indifference coursed through him like lightning. His skin was an electric fire of rage. His soul morphed from a deep void to a blazing inferno.
The heavens opened up and a galactic storm of fire and ice erupted from the center of the universe coloring the void a shade of dark purple. He raised his form to meet her, eye to eye. Unflinching they each struck forward fists piercing the inky void.
A crack and a flash emitted from the impact of fists to flesh and corporal form. They were each unmoved in both physically and metaphysically. Two psyches locked in a battle with no clear victor as they both had suffered loss. The celestial being attempted to break the bond as the survivor’s emotions were too much for her to bear.
For the first time in her existence she felt something new, shame.
Shame for her lack of empathy for what she assumed was an inferior and insignificant being. She was mistaken. He held his grasp firm as she attempted to escape . The connection had finally transferred something of note, understanding. In an instant he understood her loss, he felt it, and he embraced it.
His gaze no longer bore hate. The storm subsided and so did the flames in his soul that were now smothered by tears. A light meteorite shower trickled from the cosmos. A sight of unparalleled beauty that neither could ignore.
Though they bore no malice towards one another they could not be as one. Their connection severed, and their paths diverged into the far corners of the universe. Forever alone, yet never alone. Two distant stars burning brightly, in the dark
Ground control to my readers. This is major Immortal calling. Turn on your landing lights and make your way to the twitter port. Call sign @