Flash Me Friday

Storm God

From the empty void it came, seeping into the amorphous world. It had no purpose as such, it was merely a traveller. It had journeyed a great distance and its journey left it weak, scattered. Formless, it surrounded the world it found, drawing strength wherever and however it could.

For a time it rested, recovered, drawing energy passively. Its intelligence was vast and it sought to add to its knowledge but this world was too new, it offered little of consequence. It amused itself, if such a term could be applied to it, by restructuring the world. Land masses were raised, or lowered, with little disbursement of energy. Water filled the gaps between.

Time had no meaning to it. It had been from the beginning and it would still be until the end. It became aware of sparks of creation on the world below, and at first it ignored them. Of what use were such sparks to one so all encompassing? But the sparks continued, expanded, and it learned something new – curiosity.

The sparks were crude, incomplete, yet they gave off an energy that it found intriguing. It tried communicate with them, with wind and rain and lightning, but they lacked the means to understand. Instead they gave it many names, Shri Indra, Tarhunnas, Adad, Ishkur, Hadad, Thor. Such names meant nothing to it.

It continued to gather itself, sometimes hoarding its energy like a miser, sometimes expelling the excess, unmindful of the chaos it created below. This place was not its home and it had little care for any damage done to the surface. The sparks continued to evolve and change, but it had already lost interest in them. They lasted only an instant in time.

As it circled the world it felt a ripple in its being. It became aware of a strangeness, of unnatural constructions crawling on its skin, moving through its essence. It did not like this feeling, the heaviness of the stratosphere, the impurities of the troposphere. It sought the source of the intrusions and turned its attention once more to the sparks of life below.

Unchecked, the sparks had spread like an infestation across the surface. It raised the wind and rain, bleeding its own energy to cleanse the world, but it was spread too thin and could only purify one small section at a time. It tried the reverse, pulling energy instead of using it, and though the world below would shift and fracture it was never enough to deter the sparks. Always, the sparks returned.

The sparks served no purpose. What energy they possessed was insignificant compared to its great reservoir. They were nothing more than an annoyance that appeared each time it rested on a new world

This place was not its home, it never had been, it was never meant to be. The sparks rendered this place impure. It was time to move on. It seethed and boiled with the energy it had achieved and reached out, away from the world below.

Back into the empty void it returned, ready to journey forward, ready to seek a new world. It gave no thought to the world it left behind, no care for the damage its leaving caused to the mesosphere, the thermosphere. Most of all it gave no thought to the sparks of life it was leaving behind.