“There is nothing frightening about an eternal dreamless sleep. Surely it is better than eternal torment in hell and eternal boredom in heaven.” – Isaac Asimov

It all began the day he picked up that accursed pen. It was late in the afternoon, gusts of wind so powerful they tore the trees along with their roots from the ground blew past his little cottage, but he was safe. He wielded the power to create, to change the form of matter as he desired.

And so he began writing. He filled page after page until he was surrounded by skyscrapers of these very pages. If someone were to peek through the window he would have difficulty spotting the dwarf sized man among the pages which noted down his creations. But of course who could peek through that window, was so physically endowed that he could walk into the eye of the storm, for the cottage was at the very centre of the storm which seemed to be wiping out humanity and all other forms of life from the face of the earth.

When the storm finally subsided there was nothing left but a little man and his cottage filled with sheets of paper. On these sheets were words and symbols decipherable only to the man who had scribbled them. And then the sun no longer shone and there was only darkness. It was then that the words and the symbols on these pages began to glow in every colour imaginable. The little man continued to write by the glow which they provided. Then little by little these words and symbols began to float off the paper and into the sky. Then the sun shone again, brighter than ever. Fish once again swam in oceans, the water clearer than ever. Trees grew taller than ever and sprouted fruit, sweeter and juicier than any that had existed before. New forms of life began to walk the earth.

The little man began complaining about everything, the cramped cottage did not help his temper. In a fit of rage he burnt an entire stack of papers. He threw the ashes out the window .Then the monsoons arrived .The rain mixed with the ashes and the dirt. When the monsoons ended, the sun once again shone with a harsh bright light. The little man peered out of his window and was blinded by the sun’s extreme brightness. It took some time before his eyesight returned. When he peered out the window again, he saw that the mixture of the mud and ashes had hardened like cement. He had been musing on this for some time when he noticed that cracks began to appear in the hardened mixture. Something dark and gross began to emerge from it. Slowly it began to take shape, the shape of a man. The body resembled that of a man but the face was, to put it simply, dried mud. There were no eyes, nose or mouth. Yet from somewhere within the creature emanated an eerie moan. The little man cowered behind his sheets of paper. Even the sight of this grotesque creature made him want to belch.

to be continued…..