The Fall

Once, the Sun was the subject of much celestial acclaim. Above all other suns, the citizens of the universe turned their clamor to this one, and for good reason. He was unique among stars in many ways—a fervent traveler, an outstanding bard (his songs are still sung), and profoundly at peace across eleven dimensions, all at once.

As we know (but usually forget), most cosmic phenomena look outside themselves for esteem, which makes them fickle. If the object of their reverence falters—and everything falters—they become ashamed and look for new things to worship. In the meantime, the Sun had gradually woven his worth so tightly with the feelings of his followers that when they withdrew their affection, he was undone.

It wasn’t a sudden withdrawal, but a gradual, confusing silence. Thus, the slow, painful realization caused an imperceptible, but steady crumpling of the Sun’s heart. At first, he experienced a general disarray of his inner workings. Finally, after several eons, the weight of the inward collapse was too much: his heart shattered.

Gravity held most of the pieces together, but one piece dislodged itself and fell. Though it was small, it was also compact, and very heavy. Like a molten bullet, it tore a black, ragged tunnel right through and out of its host, and hurtled on through the wild currents of space.

Anatomy of the Sun: The Heart, by Penina S. Finger

 

The Sun survived, and enough of him remained intact, but one other bit of damage had been done. A critical stellar organ was knocked free, and pulled into the slipstream of the escaping fragment. Vague and nearly formless, its loss went unnoticed.

The two objects traveled together across the spans of space and time. Gradually, the fragment was slowed by the friction of interstellar matter and polished to gleaming, but its accidental partner landed first. Cooled and congealed to near solid by its travels, it chose a form that would keep it relatively safe, and bided its time.

Shortly after, now smooth and round, the broken bit was able to alight on a world. It bounced for miles in great arcs, and then finally rolled to a stop in a little wood, by a pool.

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About penina

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