"This one is the one, you hear me, Jones? This one is it!"
Reality spun its magnificence around them, and Jones was bored. "I hear you loud and clear, Naka. We have our missing link."
"Yes!" Nakamura exclaimed as stars spun in and out of existence.
"I'm curious though, Naka. Don't take this the wrong way - but is this your strongest attempt thus far?"
Naka looked at his old friend and smiled. "Perhaps," he said in a tone that confirmed Jones' question. "But you can still finish last even after your best start, right?"
"Using my own words against me." Jones observed creation as if it was some disappointing child, "interesting tactic."
Nakamura's smile never left his face as he got back to work. In one hand he held the chisel; the other held the brush. One eye open but saw nothing, another closed with the gift of foresight. Jones assured him that he had all the proclivities to become special. But so far, Naka's reality was his own - the sin of a God.
"You're getting too relaxed again, Naka."
He was, but kept going. One hand held the pestle, and the other caressed reality inside the mortar. He then put his all into grinding down the vital essences until they were nothing but stardust. Beautiful. He let the dust swirl, and flow, and be.
"Good. But you haste too much."
Nakamura stood on the precipice of a canyon, before him an everlasting drop and the void. He looked inside that void, that nothing, let the feeling of less envelop him in a cold, lifeless blanket. When he felt the absence on his skin he shed it in a thousand, million, trillion pieces - let those pieces scatter through the forming cosmos.
"...and your ability cannot be question but..."
A being reigned dominance over the world. There was no science or nature that could capture his magnificence, but they tried. And he loved them for it - for all of it, regardless of name, gender, or creed. He was their, and they... they were his.
This God was merciful but firm, his actions unwavering but considerate. This world owed him -
Reality was gone, snuffed out like the candle Naka's people had yet to invent. Nakamura floated there, and nowhere. Jones stood, and didn't, before him. His expression nonplussed.
"There's always something new with you. This time around, you got sucked into your world. That one is... more problematic then your previous mistakes.
"Worrisome..."
"I know the mistake, it won't happen again."
Jones nodded. "It won't. You are correct. However, if you don't listen to your betters, you might end up as that stardust you created. Destined to always flow down stream, directionless."
"Yes... yes, you're right." It felt so amazing to be one with his world, but that feeling turned out a trap as well. There was so much he had to learn. And Jones was his resource.
Listen to your betters. Right.
Nakamura rolled up sleeves that weren't there and got back to work.
One hand held the chisel and the other held the brush.
Thanks for reading! 😗
I appreciate any and all feedback - we're all trying to become better writers here.
This was a 5 minute freewrite hosted by @mariannewest.
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Amazing story Nakamura of course is my favourite
He is great, but he needs to get his head in the game. 😁
Hahha😂
@silentbot star 3