Quackery
Fiction, Poetry

Rebirth (A Fable)

Vishnu turned Her all-seeing eye towards the Earth. It was time. She felt it in her being.

Her creation moaned and begged for its rebirth. The trees cried out. The roots rotted in the gloom and the grey. Violence prevailed. Death and destruction. The evil hearts of men and beast were infesting life with plagues of decay and woe.

Vishnu descended into the darkened realm and spoke the words.

“Thunder burst.”

The skies began to burn. Bursts of flame and soot ascended beyond the stratosphere and into the lower orbit. Pitch darkness consumed the living, the air choked from their lungs. Dying birds dropped from flight and rained upon the ground. The ground rolled like waves. The earth spit into two. Mountains exploded into fire and clouds of ash.

“I am Vishnu, Lord of creation. Fear my power. I am creator and destroyer of worlds.”

The last living human begged to stay alive. She was a child, sobbing, her soul was clean. Vishnu saw no sin in her.

“Take my hand, my child-god.”

The touch transformed the child into perfect health and form. She assumed the form and power of the Vishnu.

Doing this, Vishnu became a human child, innocent as snow and powerful in love. Rebirth and renewal. The cycle of life. Vishnu and child, one and the same.

The sky cleared, the smoke withdrew. The rivers began to flow.

The sea, once red, now green and blue. Radiant sunlight through the breeze, flowers and birds and nature sing.

“It is good. Love is free again. This pleases me.”

She felt her soft brown hair for the first time. It felt infinite and good. Light was everywhere, bright as the sun.

She drifted and danced in the sunshine. Petals fell.

She crossed the bridge, never looked back, and faded from view.

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About Quackzalcoatl

Phoneticist, Palindrologist, and freelance Sharknadologist. Inventor. Ruler of 2-acre lakes and small streams.

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