Story A Brand New World.

Masiah

Loves the STFU Policy
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<div style="text-align:center;"><p><span style="font-size:14px;"><strong><span style="text-decoration:underline;">Brand New World Or The Life of a God-Child expelled from Heaven Or Knocking on Earth’s door, Heaven is closed tonight.</span></strong></span></p></div>


<p><span style="font-size:14px;"><strong><span style="text-decoration:underline;"> </span></strong></span> Once there was a lonely man with a grey life, which had nothing better to do than waste his time in something he once called knowledge. He needed his mind as he needed the cool air he breathed in the cold winter nights he spent in the streets, walking, wondering, doubting, knowing, forgetting and asking once again, vicious circle of endless pain and pleasure alike. He was as pure as the freshly fallen snow, as clear as the water of a young river, as chill as the autumn breeze that lovingly caressed his face when he smiled at the skies and kissed the earths, as he was the predilect son, he was the chosen one, the unscarred by mundane wounds, no dark thought, no poisoned word could ever touch him. And so, he lived a peaceful life. Still, he was too perfect for nature to allow his essence to remain untouched, carnal dreams and longings infected his mind, his soul, his body, and he was brutally pulled out from the sanctuary reserved only for those whom chose to know, abandoning their desires. He had had fallen; he had fallen onto the world: he was at last in the real world, the world where he was not alone, where he was... not the one. Astonished with this new brand new universe, unknown and unimagined by him or his kind, he explored the paths of the secret; the paths of pleasure, the paths of... sin. Absorbed and fascinated as a young child with a new toy, the new born man looked around, and felt, once again, lost, lost as he had been when he discovered he was the one, the yet-to-be god of a universe he had already forgotten. Many guides appeared in his way, offering to show him alternate points of view, new mysteries to solve, pulling him away from the path he had chosen; some came in groups, others alone, but still, all seemed to be for him and only for him. But for what? And suddenly the world came to a halt... the day this first question besieged the mind of the new man, the universe itself stood still. For what did he need all this? What was all this, anyways? Pleasure? Love? Pain? Life? Death? Nonsense? Probably. Or not. Or yes. Maybe. Maybe it wasn’t so likely. Or was it? The universe remained frozen the time of times, the stories that the grown-up child had once written by himself with his blood and his essence became legends; and the legends became myths, and those same myths were left apart as a kitten which isn’t fun to play with anymore and forgotten, as a fallen leaf carried away by the oblivious wind in no known direction, with nobody to worry for the where goings of the lost memory of past summers and springs, of better times. The One-That-Has-Been-The-Child had dazed of to sleep. Nothing is known of what did the No-Longer-So-Young dream during his rest and no-one is left to find out, but something, sentient being or indifferent force, brought him back. And he was no longer mesmerised by his second home world, no more. And he grieved: he cried night and day to the sky, he placed the blame on the sun and turned his back to the moon, scarred the earth and dried out the seas, reduced mountains to piles of bleeding rock, the rock to the thinnest of all sands and then he blew the sand for the wind to take... He did not stop, his frenetic blood thirst was unstoppable, he burned, crushed and ragged the world until nothing was left, everything reduced to nothing, on the zero, the meaning of the words themselves torn apart and thrown away... And he stood alone in the middle of the Nothing for times uncounted and unknown. Still, just one thing remained along with the Destroyer, a single star, daughter of the sky and the moon, the last crumb of the world that had once accepted him into it’s lands, and it caught his attention. He extended his arm, caught the burning star with his bare hands and swallowed it whole. An unbearable pain invaded his body, he was set alight from inside, a cry escaped from his lips for no-one to hear, he fell to the ground, on his knees... he could not bear the pain – Oh, the pain! – he cried, raged and laughed maniacally, alone and with himself, maddened by the torture which was his punishment for doing what he was supposed to... Such was his suffering that he opened his chest with his bare hands and pulled his heart out; and the heart was burning; the heart was on fire; it was alight with the emotions that the he had once felt. The fire singed his hand and he dropped the source of the flames; but it didn’t fall, it remained still where his hand had left it, as it no longer belonged to him, it was the first piece of the jigsaw that was the new world that the Nearly-but-not-completely-a-child had created without knowing. And then the heart started beating; Bu-bum. Earth appeared under the feet of the Lone Child. Bu-bum. Seas extended themselves from coast to coast. Bu-bum. The wind started blowing, bringing the skies and pushing the breath of life into the creatures that the seas and the earths had brought with them. And so it continued beating. The Cursed One could bear not any longer what had been his heart before; he spread his wings and took flight, high into the new sky, no longer bowing in his presence, higher and higher until he could be seen no more. A single tear slipped down his cheek, gaining speed as the new earth called it down, falling as a narrow mind seeking liberty until it reached the ground. And from the moist dirt, a new child rose, daughter of tear and earth, looked around, and smiled. A brand new world awaited.</p>


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<p> <em>Many have thought of themselves as the center and owner of the universe, few have realised that that would be nonsense, and fewer are capable of imagining what could happen if an infinite being had a childish tantrum as we humans seem so prone to have at regular basis. The Universe should never belong to a human, for our own sake. </em>


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