Our world was a barrne place solely inhabited by the Bitter Twins. Arad and Dara. As they wandered, they argued, with their incessant bickering echoing for thousands of miles. After a particularly bitter spat, Dara decided to punish Arad. She ripped out a portion of their shared Being and stomped it into the ground with the base of her heel, leaving only a small shimmering splotch. Then, she resumed her wanderings with Arad. They saw few sights as they traveled; their shouting could grind even the tallest of mountains into naught but rubble. When their rambling brought them back to the Stomping Place, they were surprised to see a small brown bird, Kiyuwa, hop out of the shimmering splotch before them.

“Oh ho!” Arad, Gardener of the Sun, Crafter-King, chuckled, “See the fruits of your folly! We lost so much of ourselves just to make this vile little bird.”

“Quiet, abominable brother,” Dara, Compatriot of the Moon, Lover of the Quiet, replied, “If you do not wish to be the reviled by the streams and ponds any longer, you must listen to your subjects like I would.”

Arad’s eyes slowly traveled towards the dirt, where the cowering bird stood. It was only now that he took in its form - its diminutive stature and mottled grey-brown plumage. Kiyuwa looked first upwards at the quiet regality of the stars and the bombastic face of the Sun before looking downward at the brown, desolate Earth.

“Speak, subject! For what reason do you bring your insipid Self before me?” Arad said with an air of persiflage.

Kiyuwa was careful not to look Arad in the eye as he answered, “Venerated Lord! I cannot ever express my gratitude for being given Form, but please, grant me a boon. I find my feathers to be far too dark in hue to reflect your Everlasting Light. Please, give my wings color to rival that of the Sun itself.”

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Arad stood speechless. Finally, he replied, “It shall be so. As long as you follow the Sun, your feathers shall be the most brilliant red-gold”

And so it was. Kiyuwa now had brilliant red feathers, and the bird began to shriek with joy, “Thank you, thank you so much!”

As she watched Kiyuwa fly away, Dara, Patron of the Stars and their Expanse, turned to her twin, irate. “What, in our Name, gives you jackal-eared idiot the right to improve upon my creation?”

Arad, Maker-Of-The-Blue-White-Fire, replied, “I am a humble god. I only change what is made ineptly.”

“May the Moon crush you and your arrogance alike,” Dara spat. Once again, she thrust a hand into their Being and drew out more of their shared Magic. This time, however, she molded the Magic with her teeth, chewing for twenty-seven weeks. When she was finished, she spat out a greenish creature, The Kurusa, colloquially referred to as the Goblin.

“Look here, you arrogant raven! This Kurusa will want nothing more than to paint its teeth red with the entrails of the insolent Kiyuwa. The loss of your little creation should be enough to teach you a lesson.” And Dara sent the Kurusa off in search of the Bird with the Wings of Sunrise.

Kiyuwa flew for many solar cycles before finally taking a rest, sighing, “Oh, Praise to the Dueling God Arad! I had only heard tales of his malice, but never of his charity. Praise be to him for giving me the color to put the Earth itself to shame.” 

Just then, a rock struck Kiyuwa’s wing, leaving him unable to fly. The Kurusa crept forward and killed Kiyuwa with a single punch. It then feasted upon Kiyuwa, crimson forever staining its sharpened teeth. After completing its meal, it leaned upon a nearby tree, exclaiming, “Praise be to the Dueling God Dara, for giving me the cunning to hunt meals as salubrious as this. I had only heard of her cruelty, but never of her graciousness.”

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the last time

Hands poised, ready to strike

Be the last one falling

into sleep,

bed with astral projections beyond my very understanding

Noises from the shoebox under the bed startle me awake

They sound empty. alone. concave.

The heartburn has finally spread to the mind.

Burn, burn their last vestiges away. 

The supernova comes.