1 The Writer

In the Attic of an old house placed in the woods, there lies a crumbly little hammock. On said hammock there lies a withered old man who's name has been forgotten by all except time, and a face unknown to all except himself. But in the morning at 9:00 AM with a shaking and a shudder the home quakes, and the forest groans, as the bones and sinew of the old man creak & cry, he is roused from his slumber. As his lanky figure graces the floor he lets out a yawn, and all becomes still & void, then he begins. His eyes split open and his heart races, he steps forward once, then a second, a third & fourth, as he begins racing towards each moment, he began leaping out of joy and wonder. Alas his home has become too small for his energy, so he lets a shout sing out from his heart and like a thunderclap his home became a place that could contain his joy, transfomed to a galaxy, no a universe, no not even that, it became a place that trancended dimensions who was born just seconds ago. His forest became just as grand if not grander so it was reborn as the heavens, a place that was perfect for the man, but alas remains greater than his first son logic could even comprehend. He reached his cabnet full of wonderous things that have been and still to be made by his hands, and grabed paper and pen, planning all he desires for his constantly growing family, each stroke of the pen was greater than the last. As he writes he laughs in joy his tears running down his face dripping onto the paper he reads it aloud laughing calling fourth his chldren old & new. His sons Time, Logic, Space, and his daughters Wisdom,& Dimensions, the names of his children became just as vast as his home. As he celebrated with them the paper convulged at his words and voice, and made them beings, Light, Dark, Animals, Planets, Sea and land, the Angels, and all other things danced off the pages singing and celebrating with their new family. Once he had finished he sent out his children from his attic, so he tidy up, and as he was paper it had cut his hand becoming soaked with blood. Seeing this he was inspired for one more creation, he sat down with his blood soaked paper and started & finished with just three strokes greater than all others he had finished just one word. The old man sat there and smiled at a word never before seen, heard, or thought and that word was

MAN.

He let out his passion & exitement into this word and it was done, he watched as the page writhed and shrunk and as a thunderclap there stood they stood a child unlike all his brothers & sisters in a form only shared by him & the old man. The man jumped with joy, shouted, and cried all at once and swept the child up and jumped out the window landing at the party and said "Look! A child has been born in my image! His name shall be Adam, first of the kind of man!" The rest of his children celebrated in even grander ways than before. Then the child, now named Adam, asked his newfound father's name to which he Laughed and said, "My name You cannot comprehend, but it shall be now God. But you my child can call me your father!"

This was a very short story I wrote on 4-1-20, based of Genisis 1.