Dasquian Belargic
Aug 8th, 2010, 06:03:50 AM
I have just been trawling through my laptop and stumbled across this and thought I'd share it, maybe get some feedback :)
In the beginning, there was a duck, and the duck was god.
Or at least, it had come from god.
One of the gods.
At any rate, it was a duck, the only one of its kind – indeed the only living creature in the world, as it was then. With only the ocean for company, it was a lonely thing, until one day it realized – with the same surprise and joy as any mother to be – that it would soon be joined by another. Yet, it's joy was short lived. At that time there was no land, neither was there any sun or moon. There existed only the dim sky and endless ocean. Where then was the duck to lay down its burden? Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, that the duck could fly no longer, it saw upon the horizon a green and turf-grown cliff rising from the oceans foam.
So it was that the duck came to nest upon that lone island and there it laid a single, pale blue egg. There were no trees to be found, no branches with which to fashion a nest, and so the duck sat upon its egg all night and day, thinking of nothing other than the moment when the shell would begin to crack and the worlds first duckling would be born.
One day the duck felt a trembling beneath it. It was gentle at first, a soft rocking, but soon it grew and the duck sprang into the air, wings all a flutter. Mid-flight, it watched as its egg wobbled back and forth, wondering if at last the egg would hatch but in the dark no fracture appeared in the shell. It occurred to the duck then – a sudden fear quivering its heart – that it was not the egg moving, but the land beneath it.
The truth of it was, you see, that it was no island the duck had perched upon, but the knee of a water spirit. Not just any water spirit in fact, but the Ocean-Mother, she who drifts restless and alone throughout the waters of the world. She, who lived in the ice-cold depths of the sea, who was the sea, had never known warmth before – and so, upon feeling the nurturing warmth of the nesting duck upon her skin, feared that she was burning. She shook her knee and jerked it down beneath the waves and soon the duck cried out in terror as it watched its egg tumbled into the fathomless depths below.
Down and down it went, through those dark and empty waters, until it could fall no further – and shattered into thousands upon thousands of pieces, who scattered to the highest and lowest points of the world. Those that rose into the sky became the roof of the world. Where the pale blue shell had been mottled, there formed stars, and where it had been dark, there formed clouds. The yolk of it became the sun and the white the moon, whilst the rest of the shell formed the very earth itself. And thus the world was born.
In the beginning, there was a duck, and the duck was god.
Or at least, it had come from god.
One of the gods.
At any rate, it was a duck, the only one of its kind – indeed the only living creature in the world, as it was then. With only the ocean for company, it was a lonely thing, until one day it realized – with the same surprise and joy as any mother to be – that it would soon be joined by another. Yet, it's joy was short lived. At that time there was no land, neither was there any sun or moon. There existed only the dim sky and endless ocean. Where then was the duck to lay down its burden? Just when it seemed that all hope was lost, that the duck could fly no longer, it saw upon the horizon a green and turf-grown cliff rising from the oceans foam.
So it was that the duck came to nest upon that lone island and there it laid a single, pale blue egg. There were no trees to be found, no branches with which to fashion a nest, and so the duck sat upon its egg all night and day, thinking of nothing other than the moment when the shell would begin to crack and the worlds first duckling would be born.
One day the duck felt a trembling beneath it. It was gentle at first, a soft rocking, but soon it grew and the duck sprang into the air, wings all a flutter. Mid-flight, it watched as its egg wobbled back and forth, wondering if at last the egg would hatch but in the dark no fracture appeared in the shell. It occurred to the duck then – a sudden fear quivering its heart – that it was not the egg moving, but the land beneath it.
The truth of it was, you see, that it was no island the duck had perched upon, but the knee of a water spirit. Not just any water spirit in fact, but the Ocean-Mother, she who drifts restless and alone throughout the waters of the world. She, who lived in the ice-cold depths of the sea, who was the sea, had never known warmth before – and so, upon feeling the nurturing warmth of the nesting duck upon her skin, feared that she was burning. She shook her knee and jerked it down beneath the waves and soon the duck cried out in terror as it watched its egg tumbled into the fathomless depths below.
Down and down it went, through those dark and empty waters, until it could fall no further – and shattered into thousands upon thousands of pieces, who scattered to the highest and lowest points of the world. Those that rose into the sky became the roof of the world. Where the pale blue shell had been mottled, there formed stars, and where it had been dark, there formed clouds. The yolk of it became the sun and the white the moon, whilst the rest of the shell formed the very earth itself. And thus the world was born.