soft-monstrosities

[soft-monstrosities]

The Dying World - Sprouts

The sixth creator drifted for awhile. Focusing on nothing at all was as close to pleasant as anything else these days. Then Leela returned. It had expected her to pack up her things and be gone, only the girl seemed to have other plans. First she set about making pots and studying the seeds. Odd, but expected. Transporting them would be a risk otherwise, but even after she had found out that she could transport them safely with magic, the girl stayed. Leela set about filling the pots with soil and put the seeds into them. 

Foolish, nothing would grow in the soil here. It was toxic, dead and good for nothing but pain. The sixth creator thought she would figure it out soon enough, but Leela was stubborn. She tried spell after spell to purify the dirt. A million kinds of water treatments, a thousand different shapes of pots. Straight magic. Singing, pleading, crying. None of it could get that soil to let a plant flower. 

It wore at the sixth creator, it’s patience was infinite, but even the infinite could be worn thin by the annoying. So finally, after millions of years of silence, of solitude and apathy, the sixth creator twisted it’s head to the girl and spoke in a language all can understand. Older than the universe itself. 

“They will not grow here.”

Leela stared at it with wide eyes. Then she bounced onto the balls of her feet, almost tripping over her own feet in her scrabble to sit by the sixth’s creator’s head. Then the questions started.

“What do you mean they won’t grow here? Do I need soil from a particular part of the cave? Do I need to put them in the lava? I didn’t want to risk it but if you think it’s a good idea, it might make sense. I have to spread these around the planet after all! So I need to be sure that they can survive the environment.”

Aw hell. Of course she’d take the message that way. The sixth creator sighed. 

“They will not grow on this planet. Nothing will. Go find another planet to grow them on and spread them around the universe. Any other will do.”

At that, Leela rolled her eyes. 

“I can’t spread them on this planet unless I get them to grow here silly.”

The sixth creator wanted to grow at the child, but it resisted the urge.

“Your task was not to spread them here. That is a fool’s errand. Go elsewhere and they will grow.”

The girl put her hands on her hips, face skeptical. 

“And how exactly would you know that? Have you ever tried?”

For the first time since the fight, the sixth creator paused. How could it explain to a child what it exactly it was? The sixth creator had never tried to grow anything on it’s planet, for it’s planet was it. Things grew as it did, a long time ago. Now it knew for a fact that nothing would grow,  knew the land was as toxic and broken as it was. This planet was dying as it was, as the universe itself was. No new life would grow here. But try as the sixth creator might, it could not find a way to explain this to such a stubborn child. It seems though, that Leela took it’s silence as an answer. 

“See! You can’t know if you’ve never tried. I’ll figure it out, just give me time.” 

The sixth creator had no answer to that, so Leela resumed her experiments and it kept silent. She seemed content to babble without answers expected. It did not move it’s head back away for her. Why bother. 

Another month passed by without a waiver in her hope. More symbols were drawn on the walls. The sixth creator had given up on not watching her. It did not speak, but it watched. 

One night, after Leela had finished for the day and was writing in her journal, she paused. She was leaned up against the sixth creator’s side, ever so careful with how she placed her weight.

“Hey, what’s your name.” 

For a moment, the sixth creator considered not responding. Leela would likely not relent though.

“I have been called many things.”

Little eyes rolled back and she sighed. The sixth creator almost felt offended that she dare consider it annoying.

“Okay, but what do you liked to be called?”

That took more thought. For a long time, the sixth creator had liked the name it had given itself along with the other creators. Now the name was nothing but bad memories. The only reason a dying thing needed a name was to put it on a gravestone, and the sixth creator knew there would be no need for that.

“I do not wish to be called anything.”

Leela considered that for a moment. Her words were slow as she thought through them.

“Okay. I mean, I guess if people can have any name they want you can have none at all. I could give you a name if you don’t like any of your old ones? Or I could help you find one you like!”

The sixth creator considered it for a moment, it might make her stop the line of inquiry, but it also felt like giving her far too much power. Names were powerful things, it was better not to have one.

“No. I will not be named, I have no need for one.”

“Fair enough, it would make writing about you in my journal easier though.” 

The conversation died, and the girl slept. By the next day, she had forgotten it. 

Another month slid by. The girl was growing frustrated. She had started to venture back into the caves, looking for something she may have missed. The sixth creator kept silent. It had said it’s part, and she had not asked anything of it. If it had been possible, the sixth creator would have merely made the plants grow so Leela would be gone. But that was not even within it’s power, not while she insisted on using soil from this rotten planet. 

More time passed, and again the girl went further and further into the caves looking for clues. In the past time, she had grown less talkative. Less sure. Less hopeful. It was good. She was learning, and soon enough she would understand there was nothing to be done, not here or anywhere else. The sixth creator was ready for her to be gone and for things to be quiet again. 

Then she got hurt. 

The injury was more serious this time. The sixth creator knew the moment it happened, the moment before it happened, the moment after it happened. All it could do was lay in it’s den and watch. Wonder if the girl would make it back to the den, or if she would die there in the caves. Die while a useless god that could no longer even walk watched. Maybe that would be a fitting end.

Leela did not die though, it took her time, but she managed to hobble back. A splint made of metal helped ease her way, and finally she was back in the den. The sixth creator did not comment. It did not owe her any words. She was an annoyance. 

So why did it feel like it owed her an apology?

She was silent for the first two days after she was back. She ate and slept and stared at the ceiling. On the third day, she spoke. Eyes fixed to the stars she had drawn on the tips of her toes, balancing on a rock she had dragged in. 

“Why were you so sure that nothing would grow on this planet?” 

There were easy lies. Easy half truths. Easy not-quite-eithers. The sixth creator regarded her for a moment, and then told the truth. Those dying had no need for secrets. 

“This planet is me. Or a reflection of me. It is weak, old, dying. It is much like the universe around it. It is toxic, hostile, angry. Nothing will grow here, life could not survive here.” 

Leela was very quiet for a long time. 

“I dunno. I think I’m doing alright. If I can figure it out, why can’t the plants?” 

That threw the sixth creator off guard. It had not expected, nor even thought about that. The more it did, the more the idea made sense. Leela survived here. She lived her. She thrived here. Nothing should have been able to do that, and yet here the child was. 

“I... I do not know. It’s different. You survive on your own.” 

“It’s not though, not really. Everything I eat comes from this planet. Everything I drink and make. All just rocks and lava heat made into something else. Why not the plants?”

She paused, considered, and answered her own questions. 

“Wait. You said the plants won’t grow because this planet is a reflection of you. So if you don’t think the plants will grow, then of course they won’t. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.” 

The sixth creator did not like this line of thought. It wanted it to stop now. 

“There is nothing to be done about it. Go elsewhere child. Go elsewhere before I fail you too.” 

“You haven’t failed me though. You gave me a place to stay. Someone to talk to. This planet gave me a home and a purpose. That’s all I ever really needed. I don’t want to go somewhere else, I’m happy here. Even if I can never get these plants to grow, I won’t leave.”

“You’ll die. Everything will. You’ll have left nothing behind. If you go now, you can have a grand story. A mission from the universe itself, to save it. You can tell an amazing story. If you stay here, all you’ll leave behind is a story of foolish shortsightedness that no one will remember.”

“So? Listen, I don’t need some grand hero’s tale. I don’t need to save a universe or die trying. I don’t need to have people repeating my story around their dinner tables. I don’t want that. If my story is going to be the story of a silly girl who ran away from an awful home and wasted her entirely life trying to grow plants in toxic soil, well that’s fine by me. That’s a much better story anyways.” 

At that, the sixth creator could not help but lift it’s head to look at the girl with disbelief. 

“How could that story be better? It means nothing. What is the point in a story that goes no where and in which nothing of any importance happens?”

Leela looked up at the stars she had drawn, her eyes seeing something else. Something the sixth creator could not understand. Did not want to understand. She replied, quietly. 

“A story doesn’t have to be some grand sweeping adventure to be important. The little stories matter too you know. Sometimes the most mundane things make for the best stories, because it’s something everyone understands. All a important story needs is to be told.” 

The sixth creator had no reply to that. It put it’s head back down, and stared away into nothingness. Or, more accurately, it stared away into the rest of the universe. It hadn’t looked at anything in a long time, but for a moment, it did. Looking, listening, reading, the sixth creator bathed itself in the universe again. 

This time, it was looking for something specific, the stories it’s creations had decided to tell. There were the grand adventures, the stories the creators had made, those legends passed down from generation to generation, and those stories were wide and loud. Underneath those stories though, there were more. Infinitely more. Some stories of heros, a trillion universes made up by a trillion creatures, villains, battles, wars, but more then that even. Quiet stories of days and nights, stories in which nothing much at all happened, and stories that simply fondly recalled an old life. Stories of people who gave up and those who never did. Stories of people who fought unreal enemies, and stories of people who sat down and quietly talked their way into the hearts of their demons. It baffled the sixth creator how many stories had been created since all of them had stopped paying attention. For a moment, it wondered if just maybe this universe was not dying after all, maybe it was just telling quieter stories it had not known how to see. 

Then it tried to move it’s foot, and the pain set in again. It’s delusions were broken and it pulled away. The pain was worse than before, and as nice as it might have been to believe, the sixth creator knew that this universe was doomed. The quiet stories were merely foreshadowing them giving up, that was all. 

Leela had watched all of this silently, worried when she saw the pain flash through her stoic companion. The being was still pointing it’s face at her, but it had not been watching her for awhile now. It’s gaze returned. Sadder, more resigned than before.

While it was not a foolish creature, the sixth creator still found something within itself stirred by what it had seen. It looked at the girl once again. This universe was dying, but if this girl wanted her story to be small and quiet, well that was all the more fitting. It did not want her story to be one of relentless failure though, though the sixth creator loathed to admit it, it did not wish to see her sad. She was right too, clearly if she could survive on this planet, there must be some way for these plants to survive as well. So again, the sixth creator did something it had not done in a long time. 

Against the pain, against the overbearing pressure of the universe itself, against all odds and all it’s vows, the sixth creator began to move. Slowly, ever so slowly, leaving Leela stunned, it hauled itself to it’s paws. 

The girl did not know how to respond, so used to seeing her companion still and silent. Now, it looked almost mighty, even with the pain on it’s face as it stumbled a step forward. It’s breathing was heavy, but she had never before seen it breathe at all. Forward a step. It seemed to cause it great pain, but again. Forward a step. The sixth creator though for a moment it would fail. Forward a step. It could not fail. Forward a step. It was dying, there was nothing left for it, but by all six creators honor it would not let this girl’s failure and sadness be it’s final story. Forward a step. Not far now. Forward a step. Leela backed up, quickly moving even on her own injury so that the sixth creator could reach the pots without pausing. Forward a step. 

It was in front of the pots now. Each seed had been carefully placed in a pot, each of a different shape and size. The sixth creator looked down on them. It had thought that they would not grow here, so they had not, and even though it still did not quite believe that it could, it wanted more than anything. Believing and wanting were not the same, but for the time, it was enough.

With all the energy it had left, the sixth creator focused everything it had into those little seeds, into the dirt, into the air, into everything around them. For a moment, it thought it was going to die from the energy use, a fitting end maybe. But it did not. The moment passed, and it opened it’s eyes at Leela’s gasp. They were so very small, little green and red sprouts poking up over the soil, and the sixth creator smiled down at them. Then it collapsed, just barely managing to not hit the pots as it did so. It heard Leela yell something, and the darkness overtook it.

When it awoke next, the girl was asleep and it was back in it’s nest. Were it not for the little sprouts still visible in the corner of the den, the sixth creator might have thought it all a dream. The girl it seemed had moved it back to it’s nest, and fallen asleep writing in her journal. 

The sixth creator peered into it for the first time, having not been willing to look before now.

They actually made the plants grow! The sprouts are going to need a lot of care, but I think that I can actually do this now. I’m worried about them though, they fell right after doing it, and it clearly took a lot out of them. Hopefully they just need a good sleep. Tomorrow I’ll look for-

The writing trailed off there, her list forgotten. The sixth creator regarded her choice in pronoun. It had not been a they in a long time, not since the fight. The sixth creator had not wanted to be a they, something living. Something more than a statue or rock on the ground. 

Now though, the sixth creator decided that there was no harm in playing along. After all, the sprouts were clearly the large offense to the death of the universe and the sixth creator. 

So, with a light smile, they went back to sleep.

[soft-monstrosities]

The Dying Wold - The First Seeds

The sixth creator lay with it’s facing towards the wall of it’s den. Not that it mattered much, it could see the entire universe with it’s eyes shut, whether it wanted to or not. Still it was the principle of the thing as the child bustled around in it’s den. She seemed to be determined to stay, and what did it care if she did? She was not of the almost immortal and she was not a creator. Death would come for her soon enough. It would come for all of them soon enough. All the sixth creator had to do was wait. 

So wait the sixth creator did, ignoring the girl’s babbling as she set about the den. At first she simply cleaned up the floor and the walls and set up things needed to survive. A bed, a pot, a small place to store food she created from the energy of the lava. Then came small things. Shoes and clothing made from the stone outside. A backpack showed up, and was filled with material used to explore. There was a map created after the first few days, with a quill and ink. It wasn’t very well done, the sixth creator had seen billions upon billions of better maps. As for the girl herself, her use of magic often left her very tired, so she slept a lot for the first little while. 

Once she had created once she needed though, the girl set out exploring. For days at a time, she went out looking for something. The sixth creator tried it’s best to pretend it wasn’t keeping track of her comings and goings, but it was hard to ignore. Nobody had been in it’s den for a very long time, and no mortal had ever visited let alone had the audacity to claim it’s den as their home too. 

On one of the exploring trips, the girl got hurt. She burned herself on the lava and cried about it. It took her two weeks to heal from it, even with her magic. The sixth creator wondered during the first two days if it would kill her. It didn’t though, and the sixth creator firmly felt no emotion about that result. She was more careful on her trips after that. Still though, she went out, looking for something to hold onto. Some sort of hope. The sixth creator knew she would not find it here, but let her try anyways. It kept her out of it’s fur at the very least.

After a month or maybe a year the girl made herself something called chalk. At first it was only used to mark out the cave systems she was exploring, but after a little while she used it to draw a symbol on the walls of the den. Then another. Then another. Then she left on another trip. The sixth creator could see the symbols perfectly facing the wall, it could see anything anywhere. Yet for some reason that not even the creator of the universe could understand, it lifted it’s head and turned to look at the symbols. 

A flower from the girl’s home planet. Her favorite constellation she could no longer see and a spiral filled with decorations. It was the spiral that really caught the sixth creator’s attention. The first two were simply her longing for the familiar, understandable of a simple creature but the third... the third was not from her memories, it was not created to comfort her. It was created out of a want to create. The sixth creator turn it’s head back to the wall suddenly, not wanting to think about the symbols anymore. Perhaps it should remove the girl. It could send her anywhere in the universe or just remove her from it entirely. Maybe it would remove any memory or trace of her too, for daring to invade it’s den and disturb it’s rest.

The sixth creator didn’t though, it felt too much like letting her win somehow. Besides, why should it care if she wanted to create. Anything she made would crumble, just was the universe itself would. 

The girl came back after two more days. She was tired, but happy. Hopeful. Some misplaced sense of progress made. The sixth creator paid her slightly more attention this time, wondering if she might mention an attempt to leave. That was all it was listening for. That was it. Somehow, the sixth creator learned her name too.

Leela. 

The sixth creator decided that that was a silly name, but it accepted it nonetheless. Why should it care after all. 

Now the girl’s explorations kept her busy for longer. She was going further and further into the cave systems within the planet. Hoping that for some reason, deeper down she would find something. There was nothing to be found, but the sixth creator still said nothing. Let her hope. Let her waste her time away in caves that would yield nothing to her. 

When Leela was here, she had grown far more confident around the sixth creator. Before she had at least let it have it’s space and taken up as little room as she could. Now, on the days when she was here the child was usually leaning up against the sixth creator. Push into it’s fur as if it were a pillow. It was then that she noticed the cracks. They had formed when the sixth creator had lost it’s first and only real fight, running deep through it’s skin. Old wounds now, but ones that had never closed. They festered instead, bubbling like the lava outside. There was no force in this universe that could heal such wounds, and they were deep enough that back when the sixth creator had still had any kind of hope, it had to push against the pain constantly to even stand.

Now the sixth creator didn’t bother to try and stand. Now nothing hurt. Or at least, nothing had hurt until Leela had gently poked at the wounds. It didn’t hurt much, not even enough for them to flinch. She seemed to know anyways though, and she apologized. 

“I guess that’d be why you don’t like to move. Sorry for teasing you about being lazy.” 

The sixth creator didn’t care. It didn’t. Nor did it care when she was always very careful about leaning up against it, so as not to cause anymore hurt. Late on night, the sixth creator looked back upon it’s memories and realized this was the first time it had ever been apologized too. Silly that it’s only apology would come from a mortal in a dying universe. Not too long now, maybe a million years left at most. Things had already started to deteriorate. The girl would last maybe a thousand at most. 

Leela had been gone from the den for a long time now. Before she had left, she had told the sixth creator it might be quite a bit before she came back. That she was going to try to reach the core. As if it was meant to care or miss her. As if it couldn’t see everything she was doing anyways. Leela was deep in the caves now, scaling down further and further and looking for something she would never find. It was then that the sixth creator had a thought. Perhaps if it gave her something to find, she would leave. She would feel as if she had accomplished her goal and move on to the rest of the universe, so the sixth creator could watch it die in peace. 

The idea became more and more sensible as time went on. Clearly, this was a clean and easy solution. As the girl approached the deepest part of the cave system, it was the perfect time for it too. Now the only question was what should it give her to find. It couldn’t be anything too special or powerful, otherwise she might stay to look for more. Or she might try to use it to delay the death of the universe, which would just be annoying at this point. Not to mention the sixth creator was not sure how much power it could actually create anymore. It could not be too insignificant either though, or else she would not feel her task was done. Something in the middle, something to fulfill that idea of hope that she had. 

The sixth creator dug through memories and ideas, before finally it found the perfect answer. Seeds. The plants they would grow into were ones that it had created when it was so young and hopeful, they had grown on this planet a eternity ago, but nowhere else in the universe. The seeds would be easy to remake. Leela would feel as if she had found something important, and the sixth creator could even leave a message about needing to spread them. She would leave on her task and head out into the universe, completely unaware that it would be a failure. The sixth creator would have it’s peace back and soon enough the universe would be gone. 

It was harder then the sixth creator had thought to make the seeds, it had been so long after all, but it was done. A message scrawled on the wall of the deepest cave, and the seeds on a podium surrounded by lava. An old story, but an easy one to retell. Leela was delighted to find them, scaled across the lava and took the seeds triumphantly. The sixth creator was not proud, it was not happy to see her succeed. It felt only the relief of an annoyance that would surely be gone soon.

[soft-monstrosities]

A Dying World - The Child

The universe was dying.

Not dramatically. Not in flames, in war, in a single overwhelming attempt to save it falling just short. Not like how we like to think the universe would die. It wasn’t peaceful either. Not a person in a hospital bed, surrounded by friends and family, or a dog quietly closing it’s eyes for the last time as an old owner strokes down their back. Not like how we like to think we’d die. 

No, the universe was dying not due to any great force killing it, but simply because it was the only thing left for the universe to do. Long ago, when the six creators of the universe had been young and fresh, they had loved their project so. They had spent so long, painstakingly refining every detail, putting love in every creature. Building each planet with purpose and care. 

Stories had been told, adventures of grander and grander proportions built up, the stakes raised again and again until there was nowhere for them to go anymore. Then the creators had begun to fight. No one was to blame, everyone was to blame, but in the end the sixth creator bore the burden of the fallout. They survived it, but just barely. After that, things were not the same. Five stood, one hid, but none really survived. 

Some of the creators tried to go back to telling their stories again. It didn’t last. In the end, when the stories ran out, there came a time that there was only one story left to tell. 

One by one, the creators left the universe. None of them felt like this universe was meant to go out in a blaze of glory. It was meant to die quietly, in words unsaid and care not given. Finally, only the sixth creator was left. They did not care for the universe anymore, nor did they care enough to leave it. So, on the sixth barren planet around a glorious star, they lay with eyes half opened, hardly able to stand let alone create again, and they waited for the universe to die. The other five planets around them, once so well cared for, once so filled to the brim with astounding ideas and thoughts lay barren. Their own planet, their first one, was really no better. The soil was toxic and run through with lava. Old structures had crumbled to a flat dust, the only space that had not yet died was the cave that they lay in, and they knew it would not be long now. 

The residents of the universe, for the most part, knew that it was dying. Most were fine with it, those who lived long enough for it to matter anyways. Apathy had spread from their remaining creator like a virus. Still, the short-lived species persisted in growing and changing. Most of them lost hope too, eventually. 

Then one day, a child got lost. The girl was trying a spell she should not have been attempting. It was a spell meant to take the user partway across the universe to any location they chose. All she had requested was ‘anywhere but here’ as the tears streamed down her face. She shut her eyes tight, and when she opened them again, she found herself on a dying planet not unlike the home she had left. 

For a moment, she lost hope. Her eyes went to the sky, wanting to beg for answers. She stopped because she found them before she could ask. No creation had ever looked upon that star before, the center of the creator’s universes, that they had poured so much love and care into. No creation had ever stepped foot onto the first planets made by each of the creators. As her eyes took in that star though, that little girl had a vague understanding of why. Who could look upon such a thing and not want to create? Who could see such a star and not want to tell their own story? It was a dangerous thing, inspiration. 

The girl looked around her, at the lava flows, at the toxic soil that would burn her feet if she were to remove her shoes. She looked at the dust that lay flat across the world and at the emptiness of it all. The only thing this place could offer her was that it was not the place she had come from, and that was more then enough for her. 

Of course, the sixth creator knew that the child was on it’s planet. Bleary eyes widened for a moment before drooping back down. The child would be dead soon enough, and then it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would. 

It was harder to ignore the child when she somehow found her way into it’s den. The sixth creator tried not to move at first, thinking she would assume that it was already dead and move on. The girl did not, instead she made herself at home in the dead and babbled as if the sixth creator was meant to care. It huffed, twisting it’s form around so it no longer had to face her. It was the most that it had moved in the past million years. Somehow, she took this as a victory.