the world starts with a sigh, and you begin as a thought.
Everything starts as Nothing.
[...]
You don't remember not existing, but you know it had to have been reality at some point. You blink awake and you exist. You know nothing other than that you did not exist a moment ago, nothing existed a moment ago. But now you are here, and there is a round light in front of you.
The world starts with a sigh, and with a press at the Sun.
It doesn't hurt you to look at it. You can see the defined edge of the sun, and you can then step back and see how bright the light is, bright enough to start life and bright enough to end it.
Your presence billows out, blanketing across the Existence, yet you find nothing else. If you stray too far from the Sun, it grows dark, and, so you quickly draw yourself back to the sun.
[...]
For a long, long time, that is all you do. Hover around the sun,v stay near its warmth. Let it strengthen you, let it nurture you.
Eventually, you drop away, and then flatten at a reasonable distance, and shove -
Lava tumbles out from your existence, burbling and vicious, and it's then smoothed over with land, with water, and the light far above shines down on the barren plain.
You twist, churning, and make the first clover.
It stays directly beneath the sun, on a small formation of land among the magma, and it will remain there for as long as you let it.
The clover glows black, like a hole cut from space, seeming to suck in light yet at the same time release it.
You move on.
[...]
The world flourishes beneath your touch, growing and blooming. Its plantlife that first thrives, and then animals. You stitch sinew and bone and blood together and they stumble about, glowing and chattering amongst themselves. They eat clover at first, then they eat smaller animals, then they grow farms and herds and then they build and a civilization grows before your eyes.
You float about, coiled around the Tower of the Sun, watching, watching.
It's when they first make artificial light, does the Entity finally speak to you.
[...]
While you float above it all, a separate being, a watcher, a caretaker, the Spirit is made from the blood and dirt of your World. It hisses, crackles, and says, "I am cold."
Come to the Sun, you say, but you draw yourself closer to the bulb, closer to the most important thing you have ever known.
There is silence. It could have lasted for years, or for seconds. You exist outside of time. You cannot tell.
Then, finally, "What are you?"
When the Spirit speaks, you can pinpoint it, hovering just below the surface of the lava, right at the base of your tower. The clover growing there does not get any light, not anymore, but it does not need it. So long as you are alive, it will remain that way.
I am God, you say, so sure of yourself, but falter when the Thing barks a crackling laugh. The lamps flicker unnaturally and you coil yourself about the Sun, bringing an early nighttime.
And you? You do not know what this thing is, but you hate it. You have never hated anything before.
"I am..." It pauses, thinking, then huffs static and leaves before it finishes its answer. Now that you know what it feels like, you can sense it slinking across the world, like a worm, like a snake.
[...]
You drop yourself off the Tower and follow, cautiously, concerned.
The Spirit knows you are there, but it says nothing. It doesn't seem to do anything, yet you are not sure.
And then, like that, clovers turn blood-red, flowers fill with static instead of pollen, and someone collapses. You surge forward and slam into the Entity, howling, and claw at it until it squirms away.
You go to tend to your world, and you raise the person back to their feet, and you drain the blood from the clovers and the static from the flowers.
[...]
"I am just changing how I want to be," the Thing defends, gurgling in place of firelight. You growl and press at it and make it wriggle away again.
You are hurting my World, you snarl, chasing it, and you run it out to where the Sun cannot reach. In the darkness, you think you see a shape, moving and lurching. You shy away because you are so, so scared of the Nothingness. You remember how it had been, just you and the Sun, and you do not want the world to ever be dark.
"It is not your world, and it has never been. I am trapped, I am it, but you hold such a grip on me and it that it hurts so, so much. You are killing us."
You shriek, and shove the Spirit fully into the dark, and you chase it further and further. Finally, when you are sure it will not return, and you cannot stand the Cold and Dark any longer, you flee back to the Sun. Coiling yourself about it, you let it warm you, let it breathe life back towards you.
The Sun is the single most important thing to the World, to You. Without it, you are nothing.
[...]
So, one day, it blinks out.
You hadn't been near it. But the sudden wash of darkness, the sudden spike of cold, oh god is it cold, and you turn and race to it.
The Sun is just dead. You can see the bulb, see the glass, and you press at it. There is no semblance of warmth, just a cold shell, and you wail and twist in grief and terror. The World trembles with you, shrouded in darkness, and you do not know what to do.
Distantly, you think you hear the Spirit laughing.
You abandon the dead sun and hurry around the world, shoving bioluminescence into shrimp, into the water, into plants. For a while, things seem okay. Your people are terrified, but they make do.
[...]
You try to help them. You try to press at the bulb, try to get the sun to glow again. Nothing is working, and you are scared and tired, and you realize how cold it is.
The sun stays dead. You grow slow, and tired, and weak.
The World falls into disrepair, dying as you do.
[...]
And you don't know what to do.
