DEITY

Somewhere in the skies far, far away, a sea of snowy clouds floated across the vast blue as their cotton-like puffs dispersed like dandelion seeds then disappeared like melting snow. And on these gaseous clouds sat a young boy, making his way to a place he had in mind.

Somewhere in the same skies stood a tall figure on another cluster of clouds, cloaked in a white robe. He noticed the young boy in the distance and followed him to a massive oval-shaped translucence rippling at the edges. It was a portal connecting different places and different worlds. The man called out to the boy just in time.

“Papa,” cried the boy in delight. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“Cheeky little fella. I saw you rushing here,” said the man as he leapt onto his son’s cloud. “Come!” he offered his hand.

“Where are we going Papa?” the boy questioned innocently.

“I’d like for you to see something, son.”

“What is it Papa?”

“It’s a surprise. Now let’s go before we are too late.”

He led the excited boy through the portal and they teleported to a place far away; a place of infinite dark space, with no beginning and no end. The boy noticed shimmering lights in the distance on all sides and asked his father why the candle lights aren’t illuminating the sky.

“Those are not candles, son,” the man laughed. “Those are stars of different galaxies. And we are not among the skies.”

They drifted swiftly through the darkness. The boy watched wide-eyed as giant grey rocks with circular dents slowly passed by, and he marveled at the sight of the distant stars shooting in random trajectories. But what he found most amusing was the darkness. It made the universe look like it had come to a standstill.

“We’re here,” the man announced as they came to a halt.

He waved his hand at the void and without hesitation, the darkness shifted itself and slowly unveiled a glowing ball. It was a perfectly spherical ball of deep blue with sharp hints of green.

“It’s yours.”

“What is this Papa?”

“It’s a world. A world on its own. It’s barren now but you, young man, are going to fill it with life,” the man placed his hand on the boy’s narrow shoulder and looked into his innocent blue eyes.

“How?” the boy questioned, unaware of the greatness of the gift.

“Think! Let your imagination go wild, son! Think of something, anything, and say the word ‘Be’ and it will be. It will come to life. You can make it come to life.”

“Anything?” the boys eyes gleamed.

“Anything.”

So the boy spent the next few days crafting miniature species that would soon swim the waters of the new world, roam its barren lands, and soar high in its light blue skies. He brought them all to life with a monosyllabic whisper. And as his final touch, the boy created man, a creature in his own image and in his likeness, but much smaller in size, and placed him among beasts on the lands.

The boy watched over his creatures every day and night and often played with them. He liked placing sea creatures on land to see how long they can go without breathing. He enraged monsters of different sizes and forms and had them duel. But he enjoyed playing with man the most. He would flood their lands, and when they swam through the catastrophe, he would shake the earth and watch it crumble and engulf everything in sight. He struck them with bolts of lightning when they were unsuspecting, and set whirlwinds after them that eventually swallowed them whole. But despite these little pranks, the boy gave mankind everything they desired. And sometimes, out of love, he gave them more than what they deserved. And sometimes, when he grew too fond of certain men, he took them from their homes as other men mourned.

“If only they knew better,” the boy would think to himself.

One day, the boy brought his father with him when he went to play with his creatures to show him what he had made of the round blue world and enthusiastically introduced his old man to the ants, ferns, cacti, vultures, leopards, oxen, whales, and almost everything he had created.

“And what is that?” the father asked when the boy forgot to mention the tarantulas.

“That is a type of spider. It has eight legs and it spins web. Almost all my spiders do,” said the boy.

The man was impressed with his son’s work, and a little jealous that he hadn’t thought of as much creatures himself to fill his world, the one his father had given him.

“I’m proud of you, son,” the man said as he squatted in front of the boy. “I really am. You gave each of your creatures a name. But what are they going to call you?”

“I don’t know,” the boy was taken aback by the question. It hadn’t occurred to him that he too would need a name. “What do you think they should call me, Papa?”

“God.”

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