The StarMaker: Bad Start

When the world was still, and above all lay the natural order, untainted by the hands of men, did the Gods walk amongst the mortal realm. They arose not in a momentous instance, but was that which they encompassed.

Ever was, and ever is.

Father Time was ceaseless.

Far before the beginning, though there was nothing, endless was the perpetual passage of Time, and in the emptiness would Time pass on.

Yet with naught to mark the passing of Time, naught could rise in the void.

Until a twinkling flash.

Time stared at the child as he drifted through the sky, and in his wake a sea of sparkling motes. Never in all that came before had he seen the radiance by which they glowed, and as the child passed, so too would the void become blanketed with scintillating stars.

By his hand did comets trail behind him, marking his fanciful path in graceful, swirling, arcs, as he flew through the endless dark.

The child knew not how he came to be, only that there was no end to his merry flight.

And then he caught sight of Time.

Time had wondered when the child would take note, omnipresent as his presence is, it was ironically for the same, easy to over.

When the child finally saw him and floated over, he waited.

And waited.

But the child neither spoke nor moved, instead staring at him with so bright a curiosity.

Time though he had, it didn't mean he had to wait an eternity. Patience wearing thin as the child continued to gawk at him, he finally addressed the child entity, "Can you not speak?"

A shake of the head.

Small hands reached for the hourglass and perhaps it was the remarkable circumstances in itself of having another presence, the mere existence of another that he permitted such contact.

The child turned it this way and that, mesmerized by the sands that trickled from one end to another.

And then he broke it.

One turn too hard and it smacked into one of but many of the profuse stars flowing from him.

The glass shattered.

The sands swirled around the broken pieces and the child seemed suitably and in equal parts horrified and abashed, desperately trying to put it back together. Though that was quick to turn to wonder as the artifact fused back as if it had never been.

Voiceless though he may be, his eyes spoke far more than any exchange could.

Expressive with intrigued and awed by the strange and unknown, joyful, curious, relieved, apologetic, and yet, in it he saw too that the Star Maker, as he had thus deemed him, thankful.

Gleefully he handed it back, and watched as Time clasped it back to his robes.

And then he was off.

Scattering an endless shower of celestial bodies in his plight through endless space.