echo 
They knew of nothing but the pain that came.
It was like a cold burning. They stretched apart, blinding white threads woven between the fingers of prayers and pleas. The deep dark spread before them as They were spun of light coming from the chests below.
Shards of light danced as they were pieced together; a puzzle of curses and gratitude melded into one. A mind to think, a heart to feel, eyes to see, and hands to make. Non-existent yet whole, They became what They had always been.
The people were grateful, tears glittering gold as They smiled upon them. Brilliant and terrifying all at once, the fields spread far, far, far off into the horizons till they kissed the cornflower sky. They gave the people all they wanted and all they needed- it was Their purpose and it was good.
They watched them from the trees, the water and the air; from the twinkling of the birds in song to the flickering amber of a cat on the prowl. They watched them as Their people began to learn, to create from the very things They created for them. They learned and learned, asking questions that brought forth fire and lighting to rain down from the skies. The Earth cracked and the skies wept, yet the people continued on. Their diamond threads began to lose their glow.
Shapes and figures in the form of shadows built like gnarled fingers reached towards the sky. Their people called out to Them less. Their hearts closed with greed and pride. Green and black tendrils constricted their lungs; a poisonous grip like a vice of ignorance strangled their minds till they rotted and dropped like flies on a hot day.
They too began to come apart. Crystal shards of colours falling apart as the stitches of prayers frayed with every twinkle of the stars that they dusted into the sky with tenderness- to lead mortals through the blackness of night. The blind had cast away their guide. Left Them to be suspended in their ocean of forgetfulness. Floating with no hopes of reaching the shore. Did they not only have themselves to thank?
The final thread came apart, the delicate snap echoing like a gilded bell as honey coloured glass shattered past planets and time.
The people saw many stars that night.
By: Saoussan Mokraoui
