Week 6 - Not of Your World

Dec 11, 2010 16:59

His eyes are beautiful, intense.

You lose yourself in them, drown yourself in the brilliant, golden eyes that will never arise in your own race, not with ten thousand more DNA mutations. And then you’re pulled out, gasping, slammed back to reality by his words, by the sound of cold steel, tempered with a touch of moonlight.

“Tell me,” he says, each word staccato, piercing.

“T-t-tell you w-w-what?” you ask, your voice shivering, breaking against the sheer force of his personality. You’ve never thought yourself a weak person - well, generally speaking, at least - but all he needs to do is stand there and his aura almost forces you to your knees.

“Tell me,” he says, and it’s harsher in its repetition. “About what it means to be here. Tell me what your life is worth.”

And confronted with that, what can you say? What excuse do you conjure up for your failings, what answers do you offer that will console this god?

What proof, when confronted with the infinite, with a god, perhaps the God, do you use to justify yourself?

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