Once there was nothing but the endless galaxies, filled with unknown. Where there is nothing to be seen or done and nothing capable of thought. Then a light had surrounded the bleak world. Hands had reached out of the light, separating worlds and splitting away the galaxies.

"There shall be life!" a voice had echoed throughout. "From creation comes destiny, from destruction comes chaos. That is law. From the splitting of worlds I will give all my power to create and destroy!"

The hands which had split the world now had now removed themselves of the light. They were dull, still, as more hands came out of the light. They too did not move but floated upon the silence of space. They were the same. They were all white hands who floated but had no voice to call upon each other. There was agony in this.

"Now my children," the voice had echoed. "Bring to this world a light which can blossom to the universe! My life is that of all of you, of the worlds I envision!"

They can hear it the voice ring into their ears. Do as he says, a voice commanded. Though they did not understand it was their only guidance. There was not much any of them thought they can do, what could they do? All they were were beings of the same shape. They could not move, they could not speak, they could only lay in waste until the end of time. That is what most thought.

One had thought otherwise. He had thought that they have been already given a purpose, one he must fulfill. He could feel it, a new sense took over him and his newly born body. He had to move somehow, tell the others of this great feeling which welled upon him. He had to get up, stand up, do things, for he believes he has a power to surpass all else.

He had tried for forty nine passings but all was remaining at a standstill. The world had yet to move and he could not shut his sights upon it. The endless drift, the helpless feeling, the mind at a blank state. He had cried out to himself that he wanted to get out. He wanted to leave, to explore, to create! To create... at that moment he had heard a voice as he did those passings ago.

"Matriona, the first of birth. Arise my child of creation. Create a new world in my image."

The voice again had told him what to do and like clockwork he listened. To create however, how can he create? The creation of a world with the image of a voice? He had thought. Was there even possibility of a sound transitioning into an image.

That's when he realized. He had created his own image of the voice in his mind. He'd pictured a support system along with the ability to see and hear. To float as they did, to think as he did, to feel the greatness of power and the despair of emptiness as they all should. He had got it.

Just then he had twitched. One finger had slowly moved, then another, then another. All until he had rolled himself up and floated among the hands.

"I am Matriona," he had said with a sheer intensity. "I am the Master of Creation."

...

AN: I would have done this tomorrow but I was so excited so I did it tonight. It's supposed to be similar to Rosalina's Storybook if any of you know what that is. Anyway, 49 days was the amount of days the Buddha had sat under a tree to reach enlightenment.

I made it more story like that children's book like ;-; I'm sorry