Once...There was an Explosion...

Then there was everything. Then there was another explosion, and another, and another, until the last explosion left nothing, but one.

But me...

My world was small. Not literally, but there were not many people. We were an isolated world in a sense too. Star farers rarely visit. Less decide to settle. So the world was small.

Then an explosion happened. Which was me. I broke the barrier between life and death. The result was the end of my small world. Whoever was left after what was called the Death Stranding, died out. As there weren't enough people left to recover. My world was a simple world of farmers with dotted small towns.

There was no chance.

As for me?

I died like everyone else. The difference is that I didn't stay dead.

I beached.

Meaning, my body is stuck on a beach. A representative dimension of death that is uniquely mine. Everyone has there own version of the beach too. There were others that came back in a different way. Where their bodies left their own beaches and returned to the living world. Once the chiralium levels zeroed, they couldn't revive anymore. Hence, they eventually died too.

I wasn't so lucky. I kept on living. As my real body was still lying on my beach, I lived in an ageless avatar of myself made from chiralium. I never got sick, got thirsty, got hungry or needed to sleep.

Once I was alone and the last repatriate could no longer come back from death. I cried for so long it felt like a hundred years. It very well might have been.

For even though I caused the explosion, I never meant too. It was like I was born as a bomb, nature determined when I went off and I was never the wiser about what I was until it all went boom.

I tried many times to move my body from the beach, but I could never touch it. After trying desperately for a lifetime to throw my body back into the ocean, I cried again in despair for an age. I was on the edge of death but no wave would sweep me back into the water.

So I wondered the world for a while. There was still some beauty left, plants and small creatures were resurging again. As the timefall, which was just rain, would make every living thing age to death. Plants and animals alike. The timefall stopped when the chiralium levels zeroed out too.

Now life was starting to resurge. It livened my un-beating heart to see life rise up after so much death. When I saw the first mammal look at curiously with big round eyes, I cried again. To finally see such a thing after so long rekindled me.

After that, I spent a lot of time spreading life. I would carry pouches of seeds, packs of seeds even, across the land. I would plant and nurture bushes and the first great forest to return. I spread grass wherever I could. I even had families of animals follow me around to new places to settle.

Doing all of this, I built a connection to something new. Something different from my beach. I could wave my hand over a sed, and make it grow. I could call down rain, and clear up a cloudy day. I could understand animals and plants too.

This new connection to life balanced me. I no longer cried. Although I would tear now and again in remembrance of my home, family and friends.

Looking on the bright side, at least I got beached at age 85. Where I can look my age. It'll be awkward to introduce myself as some centuries old man if I look like a young man.

This eternal life started out rough and full of sadness. Now I find solace and purpose to tending to new life. I wouldn't minding doing this forever.

Once there was an explosion, and his name was...

Ambrose Evermoor