God rolled up the shutters. The garage was dark and dusty and lifeless, jammed with boxes and rusty tools and splints of broken furniture. Even the spiderwebs were empty. But the spirit of promise moved across the surface of the detritus.
God rooted around in one of the dusty boxes and gently pulled out a bulb, giving it a shake to make sure the supernova inside was still swirling. She twisted it into the fitting above her head and moved to the switch by the door. “Let there be light,” she said, flicking the switch.
The supernova condensed down to a tiny glowing point and then exploded, sending clouds of gas and base elements scattering across the wild, formless space. God watched as the clouds swirled like milk in a teacup, and then began to fall in on themselves, building a fiery glow within them from the battle between explosion and gravity. Soon the whole garage was littered with hundreds upon thousands of tiny suns, winking and sparkling like glowbugs.
There was light. And God looked upon her work, and nodded to herself. It was good. Then she went and got herself a chamomile tea and watched an episode of Brooklyn Nine Nine. She wasn’t in any hurry. Besides, you couldn’t rush these things.
Happy December! I’m playing Christmas music on repeat, my diet is now exclusively pannetone and minced pies, and I am doing Writer’s HQ‘s #WritingAdvent – writing prompts and inspiration for every day in this most holy and commercial of months. The prompt for Dec 1 was, fittingly, “On the First Day…” and a god in dungarees rolled the garage door up in my head and had a root around (Sellpen thinks she’s played by Meryl Streep – what do you think? Who do you think would play this God in the movie adaptation. Because you know there’s going to be a movie adaptation.)
Want to get in on the fun? Head to Writer’s HQ and sign up. Then send me what you come up with. Happy writing!