apophenic as a haruspex | anthology

progeny

In the beginning, I was lonely. Afloat in the formless void, I yearned for them, and they came to be.

It was by their hands, the first time it ended. Lovingly sprouted from the soil, the same vines that bore sweet fruit soon choked their kin in a bid for selfish survival, before they could even seed the future. It’ll be better the second time.

My flames wrought lumbering creatures of heavenly metal next. Graceful in their brutality, the world shook as the war song of screeching armor reached its crescendo. Iron-clad and iron-willed, the fallen and the enduring returned to rust all the same.

They all went, undone by their own devastation. Millennia have passed, and I have not stopped trying. I loved them, and should they know of Me, then this bond between us shall finally be realized.

The youngest of My progeny were born in a valley between two rivers. I thought they would be the first to pierce the veil with their curious contraptions; when they found a way to make hydrogen explode, it wasn’t long before the dark, frigid winter cast shadows on the corpse of civilization.

I will not stop trying. I love them, just as I have loved their legacies and scions. I don’t know what it is that I wish to achieve, exactly—but I want My children to be here for it.

Now, if you’ll excuse Me, I’ve got seven days to start over.