Before the Universe, there was nothing.
Well, almost nothing.
There it was, a tiny speck in the middle of emptiness, less than a speck. She couldn’t see it with her eyes, it was more a feeling, maybe even a whisper.
Then it happened, a huge explosion from the only place it could have come, perhaps a
seedling, she thought. The power of the explosion couldn’t be felt or heard and she moved just out of reach of everything that the tiny spore dispersed. That’s when she noticed them, did they come before the explosion? She wasn’t sure. She counted thirteen in all. They looked just like the Truanthleng. But why thirteen? The Elders only ever spoke of “The Decem”. So who were the other three? As she squinted to get a good look at the furthest three, all but the nearest one shot off in all directions so fast that she didn’t even realize it for at least half a minute.
The Truanthleng that stayed with her, floated there beside her before turning face to face. It seemed to smile, though it lacked any visible mouth. The only thing visible on its head where three eyes. She knew she wasn’t suppose to be staring at one of them directly, it was forbidden, but it was as if the being was telling her the rule did not matter here. Its head resembled a seedling in almost every way. The odd double roundness that looked as if a smaller bubble had joined with a larger one. The upper sloping ridge that reached the top of its head looked as soft as her flora. Below it,another ridge sloped up just above the third eye. The eyes, the only other real feature of the being, were like nothing else she could imagine. They were in a straight line, one below the other. A soft glowing white emanated from the edges of them. The whiteness seemed to coalesce with the pitch blackness that made up the their center. In her world, that kind of darkness should have chilled her to the roots. But it was, some how, a reassuring darkness that gave hope. As she stared, she saw its name “OE”.
Without realizing what she was doing, she closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly toward it. She knew that if she opened her eyes, it would be the last time she’d ever see anything again. She felt the cool warmth of a dew like moisture on her forehead followed by what she imagined were hands running through the soft feathery-flora that flowed like hair from her head. So sensitive were her feelings that she actually felt her flora change its color. Something seemed off.
She felt the change, counted slowly to herself. She lost count as she felt the slight surge rush through her. Each feather seemed to have multiple colors, and each layer was a different color fading into the next as though it belonged, but it didn’t! “What’s happening to me?” She wondered, panicking silently. She dared not open her eyes. She felt confusion flow through her flora. Green flowed into white, white caressed yellow, orange sauntered from the edges of the yellow, and into brown. Brown fluttered into to red, red swam into pink, pink sank into purple, and the purple FLARED into blue! This couldn’t happen, this…wasn’t suppose to happen. She felt the Truanthleng flow back away and her eyes burst open at the knowledge that assailed her from the damp spot on her forehead. What was happening? She tried to speak, to allay her fears, but she couldn’t open her mouth, couldn’t see anything but the blinding sights within her head. As the images slowed to a subtle climax, a tear fell from her eye. A subtle breeze sang in her ear, and for the first time, Nioce knew her own name.