In the beginning there was only darkness.
Than He flicked the lights on and enetered his basement workshop.
Of course the term 'basement' can't really be used to describe a room in His house, For His
house is never ending, a maze of rooms and hallways for every concievable purpose.
He walks across the cluttered room, filled with what looks like mannaquin parts, arms,
legs, torsos and other body parts litter the foor. In the corner a half sculpted head rests on
a small rickety table, every other surface is covered in mountains of papers. The papers
are covered in drawings of anatomy, plans for the circulatory and central nervous systems;
on a corkboard (weighted down by a thick coatin of more 'human blueprints') a prominent,
beautifully detailed drawing depicts a woman with cat ears and a atail with four rows of
large breasts wearing a collar.
He passes all of this and continues to a heavy wooden door marked in a sign that says
cleary:
He heaves the door open, not even giving the sign an ounce of recognition (for HE is the
only one who has ever existed in the house that never ends) and locks it behind him with a
heavy, ornate deadbolt.
The 'universe room' isn't very big, about the size of a small classroom it pales in
comparisson to the monstrous workshop he just exited. It's wooden, as is most of the
house, the floor is tilled with a checkered pattern (though it is only two different shades of
stained wood) and the walls are ornatly carved. It has a 'homey' feeling to it, like the room
of a quaint little cottage, or the study of an old mansion.
Linning the walls are bookcases and counters, the bookcases filled with binders crammed
with more sketches; on the counters are about half the bookcasses contents, each binder
almost seems to have vomited their contents onto the couters and desks. More drawings,
this time of mountains and oceans, plants and riverbeds, topographical maps that are so
intricatly detailed you would need a microscope to decipher them properly.
Of course it is whats in the center of the room that interests Him, for atop an ornate,
beautifully carved stone alter, sits a glass fishbowl.
Not an especially fancy fishbowl, just an empty, avrage sized glass fishbowl.Though it's
purpose is grand, for this fishbowl will be the cradle of all of creation.
He aproaches untill he is directly in front of the alter, and from his apron pocket He
withdraws a pebble, he raises it to his lips and blows softly on the tiny stone until it begins
to produce a soft glow.
Then, after years of preparing, he drops the pebble into the bowl. It falls, then in the
center it stops, almost as if it has landed on an invisible pillow, and stays.
He begins waving his arms in an intricate and graceful manner. A nd so He begins to
shape the universe.
The pebble begins to spin, then crack and brake appart, bits are carved off until only one
large and two smaller pieces remain, the two smaller pebbles, barely one fourth the size of
the larger, begin to orbit around it in slow, lazy circles. As He begins to move faster so do
the tiny stones in the center of the fishbowl, the moons begin to swivle around so fast you
can no longer make them out. The larger rock begins to undergo a change, it shifts and
cracks, tectonic plates form and shift, creating mountains and oceans, now what appears
to be moss starts growing all over the stone , trees and other plantlife, the rest
of the
stone changes colour, creating deserts and water. Earth is created.
He slows his pace down and the moons and Earth begin to slow back into a normal cycle.
He admires his work and steps back, it was time to go into the next room and decide on
who (and what) would populate his creation.