Monday, November 02, 2015

Day 2 - What Is and What Should Never Be

It had existed in this limited form for countless aeons, ever since the Great War had been raged and its kind had been forced to seek out refuge in the deepest, darkest places of the lesser dimensions. This planet had been young then, a teeming cauldron of primitive life that provided it with little interest and even less potential, and so it had slept for long ages.

It remembered awakening for the slow rise of the dinosaurs. Buried deep as it was in the very roots of the planet, it still felt them as they evolved to dominate the land and the sea.  They were a disappointment; full of animalistic desire, their reptilian brains slick with reflex yet devoid of the necessary spark. And so, when the asteroid finally came, scouring them from the planet beneath swift decades of blackness, it was pleased that the event offered opportunity for more complex life to flourish.

It waited patiently as the small mammals scurried relentlessly to claim a reborn world, as the surviving descendants of the dinosaurs took wing and began to fill the skies. Their tiny minds buzzed with a flurry of simple thoughts that it listened to on occasion, for it detected the first seeds of development among them, but it soon grew tired of their babble. And so it slept again, content in the knowledge that its long wait to reclaim its place within the Multiverse would soon be over.

Finally, it started to rouse as the last of the Ice Ages began to subside and as a particular type of mammal began to rise to prominence. Their thoughts were still basic, still so very primitive to one such as it that had traversed the higher dimensions and that had seen galaxies born and die, but they offered a kind of crude promise. And so, after more than a billion years, the Eldritch God finally began to stir itself from its dreamless sleep far beneath the cold depths of the ocean.

It was still so very weak; escaping the Great War and the purification that had followed had proven difficult and it had been forced to fold itself in upon itself, bury its abilities so deeply inside that they could not be found even by itself, let alone by those who might search for it. It had conserved what little energy it had left over the aeons but where once had roared a furnace that devoured stars, there were only pale embers. But all that would soon change.

It waited a little longer, a mere two hundred thousand years; waited for the race to blossom and be fully ready for it. All that was needed was for it to be touched by one of them, to link with them and access the power of their imagination and fear, and turn them into a conduit that would unlock the theurgical might that it had closeted away for so many long Ages.

It used much of its remaining energies to push through the oceanic crust; ejected gratefully from the rock, like a splinter from flesh, to emerge into the midnight blackness of the abyssal plain. And then it drifted, stealing strength from the flittering dreams of fish as it slowly worked its way towards land and towards life. Its thoughts anticipating a return to majesty, and devising the horrors that it would then wreak upon this world that had been its prison.

The net of a fishing trawler briefly snared it but the thrashing of a dolphin, caught to in the mile long drift net, served to eject it before it could be hauled up to the surface. And so it drifted further, carried by ocean currents as it conserved the last of its energy for the moment when it could fashion the conduit.

Finally, as the sun rose over the sea, the currents and the waves carried it up onto a sandy beach and left it exposed to the light. It focused its energies so that its form was now that of a coruscating rock, something that it was certain would attract the first person to see it. All it needed was one moment of touch, the barest fraction of a second, and it would expose them to a vision of its true self and drive them beyond the depths of insanity to where they were malleable enough to be of use. For so many aeons, it had waited for life of sufficient sophistication and now all it had to do was wait a few moments longer…


Derek Dawson strolled along the sands of Redcar with a Tesco carrier bag swinging from his arm that contained one egg and cress sandwich (wrapped in clingfilm), a packet of smoky bacon crisps (Walkers) and a kitkat (two sticks). It was the same lunch that he had every day on his break from the office as he was very exacting in his demands. There had been, he remembered with a shudder, one occasion when he had accidentally purchased beef and onion crisps (due to the shop being dimly lit) and it had almost ruined his entire week.

It was 12.34pm. He knew this without looking at the Casio watch on his wrist because it was always 12.34pm when he got to this point of the beach. Another three and half minutes and he would reach the concrete steps that led up to the small bench upon which he would sit to eat his lunch. Unless someone was sitting there, which happened on rare occasions, in which case he would sit on the sea wall instead. It wasn’t ideal but it was an acceptable compromise in an emergency.

He was lost a thought a little, thinking of a set of tangible constructed assets that would need to be assessed and depreciated upon his return to the office, when his right foot struck a rock. He looked down.

The rock was oddly shaped; or, at least, its angles seemed somehow wrong and it glittered brightly beneath the rays of the pale sun that was currently poking its way through the clouds. I’ve never seen that before, thought Derek and – despite himself – was seized with an overwhelming desire to bend down and pick it up. So he did.


It felt hands enclose it, pick it up, and it summoned its energies; ready to connect and to project itself into a mind inadequately prepared for its infinite madness and evil. In mere seconds it would have seized upon the spark within this one and used it to ignite an inferno that would lay waste to this world, this Solar System, this whole galaxy.


Derek looked at the rock in his hands, turning it over as he did. It was definitely quite shiny, he thought, nodding to himself absent-mindedly.


It poured forth its rage and its malice in a torrent, but something was very wrong. It was if it was pouring into a cup that could not be filled. It strained harder, wrenching forth energies from within its depths that had remained untapped since life had walked across this pitiful globe.


Yes, thought, Derek. Quite shiny indeed. Worth picking up, even if his hands were a little sandy now.


It raged impotently. It was a God. It was Death incarnate. It was a being of a magnitude and dimension utterly beyond the one who held it. But, despite all of that, nothing was working. Its energies were slipping desperately away. It had gambled everything on this moment, on this moment of rebirth, but everything was now slipping away from it. The pale embers inside slowly being extinguished one by one. And in one final moment of clarity it realised that it had somehow connected to a being with no spark, with no imagination, a being with such little capacity for wonder that all of its attempts were destined to fail. And, with this last thought, the Eldritch God faded from the Universe with a whimper not a bang.


Although, thought Derek, it wasn’t quite as shiny now that the sun had gone in. And his hands were rather sandy. Which was a bit silly because now he’d need to hold his sandwich in the clingfilm and wait until he got back to the office to eat his crisps.

He took one last look at the oddly shaped rock, which curiously enough seemed far less odd than it had first seemed, and then tossed it back into the sea. He looked at his watch. It was 12.36pm. Derek Dawson sighed to himself; he’d just wasted two minutes on a rock. I really should have left that alone, he thought, as he walked away wiping his sandy hands on his trousers…

No comments: