Creation
It started with a tiny little dot, a vast and dark void, and a lonely man.
This tiny little dot, which glowed so bright against this lonely void, was what inspired the man. A man who's life had been as dark as the void, with endless tragedy and now no one but himself. This man had no children, no parents or friends, and no lover to speak with.
No, this man was very much alone.
Much like the tiny little dot which he watched shimmer. And as he watched it shimmer, he felt the urge of want. The urge of want which was so strong that he stood up from the dirt covered ground he had been lying on for so long, stretched out his arm, and captured the tiny little dot in his hand. As soon as he did so though, the void went dark and cold once more, and he felt sad again.
So he opened his palm, and looked down at the tiny little dot.
It was so beautiful, so light.
Yes, light. That is what he would call it, something innocent and warming, and something better than him.
(Light, which he had seen in the world he had lived in before, where he had family and friends. Light, which had shined through the leaves on the old tree him and his brother, would lie under during hot summer days with wind tousling their dark curly hair. Light, which he relied on to keep him safe when nightmares came with shadows and there was no one around to fight them off because no one cared enough. The light that he had seen when his home had burned up with the fury of a worthless battle that he had fought by himself. Light, what he had seen fade in his wife's eyes while he pointed a gun at her filth, lying, cheating head. )
Light, what he needed to survive.
As he studied this small bit of light, an idea formed. He put the small bit of light back into the void, and willed for another one to form. Then another, and another, and another, and soon there were many small bits of light in the sky. Beautiful bits of light that formed patterns, and clusters, and colors many would envy. He was in awe of how it looked, so he wished for bigger lights as well.
He kept wishing and wishing, and soon the void wasn't lonely. Soon there were many lights of all sizes, shapes, and colors, and he didn't feel as sad anymore. But there seemed to be something missing still, something he had had in the world he used to live in.
Ah yes, people.
He needed people, who looked as he did and spoke the same tongue. But how was he to make people out of a void and empty air? He pondered this question as he looked back up to the lights, and another idea began to form. He reached out and took a light from the sky, and he scooped up some dirt, and then he crushed them together to make a circle which he set out into the void. But the light did not shine through the dirt, rather it burned within. So the circle was still dark, still as empty and cold as the void once had been, and he felt sad once more.
So he took some dirt again, and began to form it into a model of himself. Two arms, two legs, a head, a torso, and all the features he had. When he finished he was proud of himself, so he picked up the model, and gently breathed life into it.
It opened its eyes, and when it looked upon the man it smiled, recognizing him almost instantly. The man felt joy in his heart, and as he reached out to touch his creation, his creations smile faded and its eyes went dull again. And then with a soft sigh, it crumpled to dirt and mud once more, leaving the man with his had extended outwards touching nothing but empty air.
He had created something and then witnessed its destruction in mere minutes.
He was confused, where had he gone wrong? His creation was flawless, a better version of him, and he had watched it fail rather than succeed. Why was it this way? Was it because he just can't do anything RIGHT?
He wanted it to be better.
He didn't know why, but he did. He couldn't remember why, in fact, he couldn't remember anything. He couldn't even recall how he got to the void, only that he was there and that he was alone. He had to fix that, so he grabbed more dirt into his hand, only this time he reached up and grabbed another light from the void. He molded the dirt again, two arms, two legs, a head, a torso, hands, feet, eyes, ears, a nose, a mouth, and dark curly hair that reminded him of a man he once knew. The creation had everything it would need. When he finished, opened its chest and placed the small light inside before sealing the chest back up again. He watched as the light glowed through, and the dirt that made the creation turn into a light brown color. He then opened the creations mouth, and breathed life into it once more.
The creation opened its eyes, and stared upon the man with wonder. The man stared back, drinking in the appearance and aspects of the creation, before reaching out and touching the top of its head gently.
It was missing something. A voice!
So the man reached for the sky once more, took one final light, and with a gentle hand placed it into his creations throat. The creation watched with wonder as he did this, the gleam of curiosity already showing in his eye. When the man had finished placing the light into its throat, the creation let out a small gentle hum, which grew to a murmur, which grew to a gasp. The man was overcome with joy, and carefully helped his creation to its feet.
With unsteady legs and a weary look, the creation reached out and cupped the man's face, looking into his eyes as if it was searching for answers. Then, with much hesitation, it opened its mouth and spoke.
"G…od…." It stumbled out. The man merely smiled, and rested his hands upon the creations.
"Yes, God." He repeated quietly.
….
The doctor flicked off the flashlight and stepped back, a frown noticeable on his already tired features.
"I see no signs of an improvement." He clipped, pocketing the flashlight and pulling out a pen. He clicked the pen open and began to write furiously onto a paper attached to a clipboard, paying no more attention to the man slumped in front of him.
"He has been smiling like that for ten minutes." A nurse said wearily, fiddling with the IV cord before glancing over to the doctor.
"Maybe he is having a happy dream. After all, we upped his medication, so it does not surprise me that he is acting so joyful all the sudden." The Doctor explained, shifting on his heels and pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. The nurse frowned and looked over to the man.
"Why do we have him here anyway? This is an asylum. Shouldn't he be in a hospital instead?" She asked. The doctor sighed and grabbed a paper set on the table in front of the man. He lifted it close to his face, and with a rather annoyed tone, began to read it out.
"Mr. Abraham Richardson, age twenty four. Patient displays signs of delusion and multiple personality disorder. He was arrested for the murder of his wife and brother and for arson after he burned down his family farm. Patient constantly claims that he is god reborn, and that he must fill the void with light or else we will all drown in the darkness. He is currently being treated with psychotherapy, and a dosage of chlorpromazine. If condition worsens patient is to be given electro shock therapy." The Doctor read off before setting the paper down again. "There is your answer. See now why we cannot send him to a hospital?"
The nurse merely nodded before grabbing a cloth and hurrying to the Abraham. As she wiped the drool that dribbled down his chin, the Doctor clicked the pen shut and pocketed it. He gripped the clipboard close to his chest, nodded briefly at the nurse and left the room, closing the door behind him with a silent click.
(Authors Note: Voila, it is done! My sincerest apologies if anyone was offended through this. It was not my intention to do so. Any advice is very much appreciated.)