I did not raise a family.
When the earth was born, it was born chaotic. Churning endlessly. A depth that swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed. Greedy selfish beasts rose up from the ash and muck, traipsing about with hunger, with lust, with blood on their hands. They cared not for life, nor for death, but wandered endlessly in between. Mouths that chewed and spat, ate but did not swallow. Creatures that wasted, over and over and over again.
What was I to do with that?
What is expected of me?
You think I should raise glory? That I should bring forth morning? That I ought to bathe them in light and wonder and power?
Creatures such as these did not deserve such things. Would only waste them, as they did everything else.
So I did not raise children like the others. Traditionally, the gods’ children would bring wonder and glory and knowledge to the creatures below.
But not mine.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
So I did not raise a family.
I raised hell instead. Continue reading “Four Rise In Direction”