Before the Beginning, I Am

A flash of light explodes into existence. The hammer falls again in the dark. Another flash. First worlds form, then life begins. A universe built solidifies and is set on the shelf. The workbench  must remain active. More is forged. Life grows. It is set on the shelf. Innumerable glowing globes and disks fill the darkness. Life flourishes. Souls are forged and breathed into new forms. Forever building. Forever living until…

A crash. Souls are snuffed out. That’s never been done. That isn’t possible. Nothing can stop the hammer. Nothing can break a globe. Stop this.

Another crash and more souls cry out. The force breaking the universes is stopped. Hands rise to protect what is built.

I am life, light, and creation. It is darkness, destruction, and death. I comfort. It burns and torments. I was alone, so I build. My children; no, my creations love me. He destroys and hates them. I hold the hammer and he the torch.

Too bright? Too loud? Too much life? These are his claims. I take what I built away from him. I am a good protector of what is mine. I see the misery and suffering in him. I bring him to my work bench. I try to teach forge, but he only wields the hammer to break and shatter. I am no longer alone. Surely I can show him a better way, my way of life.

All attempts end in failure. I have never failed. I draw him close. I reach deep below the surface past the hatred and rage. He reaches back. Loathing, devouring darkness, the end of a soul, suffering: all of these washes over me and through me. Love, light, peace, happiness surges through him. He recoils. I reach out again, but he pulls away.

He could be better. His nature could be overcome. He won’t. He is a coward. I feel what he feels for me. I loathe him. I hate him. He burns what I have built. His rage and vengeance purges all life. I collect my souls back into myself. How dare he! He will never know relief from his agony! He will burn forever!

I will never give my happiness to that monster. Hammer in hand, I am ready to stop him. I can survive being alone again.

He has stopped. Why is he stopped? There is something new. Something from our union.
There are new voices. They aren’t souls; they are more. They call me ‘Mother’. They call him ‘Father’. There was a pause. I see his thoughts for the first time. I gather my children in my arms, but I am not fast enough. Father got two of them. I got three. He looks at me. My nature betrays me. I love my children. He can see it. I can release the three and possibly save the two, but he is fast and cunning. He is waiting for the attempt to save them to take advantage. He wants to end me, to banish me, to silence me. He is baiting me.

I stay my hand. It won’t work. It is too risky. My globes are broken, and my disks are shattered. I won’t lose all of my children. He feels my decision. With fiendish glee, he devours the two. Their screams of terror and confusion echo for eternity. He is a monster. How could he destroy something so new and precious? He feels my anguish and soaks it up draining it from me. I feel his joy at my loss and drain it from him. His victory is hollow.
He wallows in the lack of satisfaction. The remaining three are safe for now.