Freewriting: how long can a short story be?
The world began in fire. Fire forged the lands and mountains, and fire etched out the spaces where the seas would flow. Then the fire slept beneath the mountains, and goddesses wept and gods stormed, and oceans formed from their teardrops and winds blew where the swift gods had walked and romanced and danced. Ice grew on the mountains, and plants crept over the dells. The sweet, hot blood of mice and men fed the monsters that dwelt in shadow and in fear, the creeping lion, the swooping eagle.
Farmers came, and with their golden crops came wars. Men built piles of gold and piles of bones, and who can say which climbed higher?
And still, the fire slept beneath the mountains, til men woke it with their blood and their gold and their own inner fire. They called out to it, and the fire woke. What form, then, did the fires of creation take? Did they creep as cats, or swoop as eagles? No, for they were creatures of the earth as well as creatures of fire, and their bones were still cold as the stone 'neath which they had slept. They crept out from their caves as snakes creep, and ate of flesh and drank of sweet waters.
Just as they changed the world, the world changed them, for fire is creation and fire is chaos and fire is change. Some crept 'neath the waves, and learnt to craft pearls into jewels that they might wear around their necks. They grew wise, listening to the songs of whales. Some took to the skies, learning from eagles the nature of claw and wing, soaring spirals of a mating dance that taught their children beauty in motion. Some crept back into the earth, to adorn themselves with gold and gems, and sleep cool and quiet until woken by men's fire.
Some, perhaps those closest to fire, shed skin of scales and walked among men, learning the ways of war, of the smith and the farmer and the scholar. They taught us to love them and to fear them. They taught us how the world was born.
They taught us this story.
Farmers came, and with their golden crops came wars. Men built piles of gold and piles of bones, and who can say which climbed higher?
And still, the fire slept beneath the mountains, til men woke it with their blood and their gold and their own inner fire. They called out to it, and the fire woke. What form, then, did the fires of creation take? Did they creep as cats, or swoop as eagles? No, for they were creatures of the earth as well as creatures of fire, and their bones were still cold as the stone 'neath which they had slept. They crept out from their caves as snakes creep, and ate of flesh and drank of sweet waters.
Just as they changed the world, the world changed them, for fire is creation and fire is chaos and fire is change. Some crept 'neath the waves, and learnt to craft pearls into jewels that they might wear around their necks. They grew wise, listening to the songs of whales. Some took to the skies, learning from eagles the nature of claw and wing, soaring spirals of a mating dance that taught their children beauty in motion. Some crept back into the earth, to adorn themselves with gold and gems, and sleep cool and quiet until woken by men's fire.
Some, perhaps those closest to fire, shed skin of scales and walked among men, learning the ways of war, of the smith and the farmer and the scholar. They taught us to love them and to fear them. They taught us how the world was born.
They taught us this story.