"Then Came the Bee"
A lone flower sits in a long stretch of grass. Besides the occasional wind, it is as still as can be, never before seen by the human eye due to its desolation. When the rain comes, it drinks, which is all it truly does.

Then came the bee. It found the flower, the first of its kind to grace this systematic pattern of petals. As it approached, a great hum pervaded the air, emitting an intolerable frequency that stopped even the bee from moving any longer. Then, there was a great flash that filled the sky, a violent gust of wind following this sudden existence of light soon after.

The bee and the flower were no more. All that was left was an mushroom cloud protruding far away.

"The Blue Marble"

As The Being caressed the blue marble sitting peacefully in the vacuum of empty space, rubbing their thumb across the rippling oceans and mountainous landscapes, a thought sprang to mind—one they had never quite imagined. The gigantic creature showed doubt for a moment, hovering around the spherical mixture of water and terrain in mental anguish, as if pacing; however, as it stared deep within the confinements of its own device, it thought of an idea, one that would counter what had led The Being to begin anew, away from the dinosaur in the first place.

From the very first atoms that structured the human, The Being took no stop in its creation. When the first human opened their eyes to the blued sky, thoughts raced intermittent to sanity, instilling the poor soul with fear from its first breath. The Being attempted to rescue them from their own demise, but they threw themselves off of a cliff just before it could do anything at all. Several more iterations failed, many dying just as life pervaded their overwhelmed forms; it had been too much for them to handle all at once. The Being fell into a deep disarray, convinced humanity in its current state had been a useless endeavorBut yet, just as it fell upon this depressing thought, another idea struck. And thus began the evolutionary parameters of life, set into stone by humanity's creator to give them progression, and to prevent them from fumbling to death at the moment of their birth. The first human was not the first human, but The Being did not care. It knew they would come, just as it did, through time.

When the humans’ earliest forms of life arose from the oceans, whisking away from the running waters in replacement of green plateaus and standing for the first time on their two newly-found bare feet, the gigantic being had to take a step back. Their fingers had rested nearly the entire time upon the North and South poles of their great planetary concoction, but now had to be removed to allot room for their new replications to grow. It pained it to move even an inch, but it knew it must abide by something other than feeling. When it had thrust itself backward into the darkest abyss of space away from the marble, it glanced around to the cold darkness surrounding its levitating body. There were other stars, beacons of lights left from The Big Bang that gave birth to this son of power. The floating, gigantic organism, still left teeming with inspiration at the sight of its first created life, envisioned a different universe, and thus it left, to begin the process anew elsewhere in the cosmos. The humans needed a friend.

And so the humans stood upright for many more years, hunted in greater methods, and embraced each other as equals—even, eventually, discovering traces of what existed before humanity itself in fossilized forms far beneath the comfort of the ground. Eventually, the enlightenment of moral law set itself upon the growing child that was humanity, many of its issues slowly dwindling to a pulp. However, one day, the water started to transition into a cold red, with grass patterned among the landscapes almost non-existent aside from scorched dirt. When The Being returned after a long while of work elsewhere, another planet the flying soul had modeled of some other element that contained a neighbor for the human species, there was nothing left to observe.

The planet Earth had returned to its proto-form, and thus The Being wept. Humanity was gone, an afterthought from the various other creations resting amidst the spacious universe. These other creatures had often wondered what happened to the forgotten species who had such a cruel fate when they would gaze in the direction of the Blue Marble; they imagined an asteroid collision, as ironic as that is, or perhaps a cataclysmic event of some other nature. But they had never dared to think that it was at the hands of the species itself.

Since then, space has gone on. There has been little fanfare in the direction of the stars about the tragic tale of The Blue Marble, no campfire stories told among the varied atmospheres of deep space about the human spirit. All there is left to see and speak about is what remains: the hunk of loosely connected rock, whose insistence on the blue hue has disappeared. The pretty marble of so long ago is no marble anymore. Death is inevitable to all things, and only an imagination can paint what the universe would've been like if humanity continued their roots among the stars instead of killing themselves. Such is the price of creation.​​​​​​​

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