Fall and Creation

On a hill, gently curving far, atop the highest blade of grass; the space distorts. Swirls of wind and dust and leaves jump to this specific spot. It grows in an abnormal form – much further down than up or wide. Light blue in colour; only its contrast with the ground is conspicuous.

All around, the plants grow bigger and more vibrant, before they too are swallowed. The size of this oval keeps rising, only stopping at 3 meters tall and 1 wide.

Nothing remains of the plants around. Even the hilltop was not spared; boasting instead a sizable crater. As craters go, this one is quite mild; no ragged edges or protrusions; a smooth curve guiding to the empty centre.

Standing on the hill, one might detect a strange patch of slightly discoloured sky, oval in shape.

One plagued youth did just this – though no marvel could be found. This youths face was pale and sickly. What were once stubbles on his chin had shot out, piercing the air in front and glaring in all directions.

His head was oval, slightly plateauing on top. His skin hung limply from his bones, making his cheekbones and chin prominent. His thin arms dangled from his meagre shoulders.

This youth, more likening a foreign creature, dragged himself forward. Legs shivering despite his meagre and hollow appearance.

Arriving at the edge of the crater, he slumped down, his legs creaking to a halt. Starting to rock back and forth, he glared at the crater, eyes flashing between hollowness and hatred.

The top of the hill had been his favourite spot to find some peaceful time. Yet, even this had been destroyed.

There's a saying: 'hope is the last to die'. This saying presently asserted its truth, as the youth's limp body clung to the ground. Only his eyes still slowly swept the surroundings, ardent to support his hope. Nothing could be found. Only the blurred lights from a distant city twinkled.

And thus he lay, 3 metres from his saving grace.

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A figure chained to a big ball. Nailed through his head and limbs to a flaming sphere. Nothing else in sight. Completely bald from head to toe, the figure hung naked from those poles.

Not his clenched feet, nor hands nor gritted teeth were his most striking mark. No, it was his eyes that burned. That crimson flickered still and strong, its heat surpassing that big ball's. Behind that crimson, one could find deep darkness standing firm.

His skin clung to his body, dry and brittle. Some skin flaked off and burnt. Instantly, it was replaced, this soon drying too and blending in. His cheeks were sunken, muscles all gone.

At this time, his eyes grew dimmer, a grim and mocking smile placed on his crumbling lips. The last of his captors had died. And with it, the last of his hopes were dashed.

The ball extinguished, his pain all lessened and he hung quite dark and hollow from those poles.

From a spot well beyond any sight, he could feel a blinding light. That place he knew all too well and figured, too, what that light could mean.

He gnashes his teeth and a piece of skin burst. Golden blood seeped out, before the wound was slowly closed. His body shook and a bolting look entered his eyes. A golden glow flowed from his body, gathering in front of him.

When the ball condensed to the size of a golf ball, he shot it into the dark, targeting a motionless body next to a crater.

There was one final thing he had to do.