The Creator

Winds howled and lighting cracked over a barren, primordial sea. It was a harsh green water that whipped itself, ever trying to swat some annoyance just beyond its narrow reach. Methane bubble rose to the surface if to stop the tension of the water into submission, but they quickly abandoned the pool and fled into the sky. Almost merely to capitalize on the futility of the scene, a rock from the sky fell- screaming harder and burning brighter than most of what the young planet had remembered. The water was stunned for the smallest instant, then turned and ran from the foreign threat. Waves circled the calamity for miles.
On a small island, newly risen to compete with a world of water, an Entity watched. It was female. She waited until the last of the waves crested on the starving shoreline, then lifted the feet of her spotless white robe and walked slowly to the site of the fallen stone. The soles of her feet gingerly touched the surface of the water, in no way disturbing the still frantic twitches of the water. She looked down, and trained eyes saw the glow of the meteor half a mile below the surface of the water, sinking fast. She lowered to her knees, and from the folds of her garment she pulled a weightless, white glowing orb the size of an acorn. From it, she loosened a strand of milky substance that dropped below the water and found its way to the glowing rock. The waves around her paused for a holy moment as she muttered an ancient incantation only a true gift of tounges could interpret. Below her, the first pulse of life on the infant planet multiplied, and gave seed.

The Monarch

A man who was once a boy sat on a finely decorated bed clinging to thoughts of false prestige as a crowd of housands marhed against him under his window.

"It is I who weild power, true power, not a worthless, sackclothed band of rebels."

His robe, white with gold laced in intricately designed patterns, had been torn by the tailor who made it.

"I killed their leader and showed them his blood- they will surrender."

One of the protesters had brought enough small explosives to break down the thick wooden gates.

"I have divine right. How else could I be here?"

Some had brought small tanks of gasoline, and although there were enough torches, in the end only a small metal lighter was thrown on the floor.

"Don't those fools realize that they are fighting against God? Against fate? Against the will of the heavens?"

Although the building was layered in marble, enough thickly laid carpet was present to feed the blaze from room to room.

"This will only lead to their destruction. All they will truly accomplish is a mass suicide."

The mob's roars grew as they pushed back from the groaning building. Butlers and other servents were killed as they fled the fire into the dense, angry crowd.

The man began to inhale poison fumes, and as his vision began to fade, he dropped to his knees. His dying breath opened an earnest prayer.