The Cycle of Creation | Teen Ink

The Cycle of Creation

February 9, 2014
By Icithra PLATINUM, Arlington, Massachusetts
Icithra PLATINUM, Arlington, Massachusetts
26 articles 0 photos 46 comments

Favorite Quote:
The wastebasket is a writer's best friend. ~Isaac Bashevis Singer


I am a god of creation in a sea of nothingness, once more. The nothingness angers me, because I cannot make it disappear, my power of creation is blocked by a dam. I have the feeling that this has happened before, but I cannot remember anything before the nothingness.
The dam is powerful, more powerful than any emotion I have ever felt. There isn’t much to inspire emotion in his great expanse nothingness, no beautiful fields, no majestic mountains, but the nothingness itself, the absence of those great things that I know must exist, that I know I have to bring into being, makes me furious.
I hate that I can’t use my power, and I let that hatred grow into fruition. I can feel the flames of my anger alight upon the dam, and unstoppable fury smashing against an unbreakable stopper. I suppose the dam was weaker, because I can feel small tongues of fiery power slither down my veins.
I bring my hand up to my eyes, and through the pure white skin, I can see the gold ichor of my power, the proof that I actually am a god, burn up my human blood. In a crescendo of emotion, of hatred and frustration and also hope, I demolish the dam, and for the first time in my existence I truly experience feelings.
Colors explode from my fingers, first a dark red that can be only barely distinguished from the black nothingness. The joy of creation envelopes me, and my new color spirals through the nothing, forming a sky and land, and red trees and red mountains. I add orange to the mix, and I create the sun, coming over the horizon, casting orange light on my immaterial red landscape.
I raise my hands and the sun rises, and I let my power flow again and that orange ball of illumination becomes a brilliant shining yellow, so light that it’s almost white, and far too bright to look at. I point at my trees, and the trunks become brown and the leaves green, I point at the ground and grass covers it.
I look up at my mountains and build them again out of stone, letting trees blanket their slopes. I look below my landscape and make another fiery ball, and blanket it with layers of hard packed stone. I spread my arms out, and my landscape curves and becomes a sphere with the second ball of fire at the center, and I set my new world spinning around my sun.
But my power demands more creation, and I satisfy its wishes, creating planets of rock and gas, creating small chunks of stone in a ring around the sun, create comets that swoop in and out. But it’s still not enough, and I create more stars, more suns, more planets, all spiraling around each other. With each creation I grow larger, from my human size to now bigger than a galaxy.
There’s still more to be done though. I speckle my planets with life, making sure each world that I add living things too are so far apart that they could never reach each other. I watch as civilizations grow and tumble down, letting others rise up from the ashes. I have all the time in the universe now to just watch. Some of my life forms become smart and create ships that can travel between the stars, but none have become as powerful as too escape their galaxy.
My power is sated, and for the first time in my life I sleep. I sleep the slumber of a god, a sleep that will not be broken until something goes wrong.
I wake to the roar of an engine. Never before in my existence has anything been big enough for me to hear, but this thing, this monstrosity is at least twice as big as me. It’s a great orb of a material that I never let into existence. Inside are all sorts of intelligent races, and I realize that I’ve slept to long.
For if one race had the power to reach another, and those two to reach two more, soon the races would become powerful, as powerful as me. They would develop my power inside themselves. I am a jealous god, and my omnipotence cannot be shared. I raise my hands, and all my creations disappear.
I am a god of creation in a sea of nothingness, once more. The nothingness angers me, because I cannot make it disappear, my power of creation is blocked by a dam. I have the feeling that this has happened before, but I cannot remember anything before the nothingness.


The author's comments:
I've always wanted the power to create things at will. But what would happen if I could?

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