Lord of Chaos

Lord of Chaos looked down in horror at what he had created. For years he held a secret. He was a closet perfectionist and no one knew why, not even him. He thrived in chaos. He plunged his world into an incessant array of activities and watched them unfold, jostle for space but ultimately what came out of it was perfection.

It is said night finds her life in day, the darkness seeks out light, evil loses its purpose when good fails temporarily. Perfection was beauty, something his whole life was dedicated to destroy and in its perfection he found his nemesis and some say, even his redemption.

But today, as he looked at the scattered pieces, he knew even he had gone too far. The bridge had been crossed for once and everything seemed to have a mind of its own. The puzzle no longer had an elegant solution at the end, it all seemed lost.

There would be no more chance of redemption, no more chance to have a perfect ending. He stepped back waiting for the inevitable to happen. His world was no longer going to be the same. He waited.

Yet nothing happened. He slowly turned to go back, to exit the stage. And suddenly it caught his eye - a faint glimmer of a pattern. He turned around, unsure, expectant.

And then it dawned on him. The pattern was hidden in plain view by pieces which were not part of the plan. It was up to him to choose. This was chaos at its perfectionist best. This was what will make his life worth the pains.

This was his greatest dance ever for now he danced for himself and himself alone, for his own survival.

The Invasion of Man

(Continued from The Jungle)

“Enter man, who burnt a clearing in the jungle and himself a hut.

Those that use claw and fang, have nothing better to fight with. Those that don't; shouldn't try to fight.

They should burn the jungle down.”

Man looked down upon the gathering in front of him, his eyes glowing with rage. The jungle was closing in on them, mocking their efforts to find a space in its entwined limbs. His tribe was helpless, cutting each other down in a last frantic effort to find an opening for their clan. They hated their clan too but they needed each other for survival, for passing their genes on. Other clans were a different matter, they were expendable.

Across the world the battle was fought, the first of many to come, man vs. Nature, each trying to dominate the other, each trying to mark its supremacy but none prevailed. Generations of Man vowed to win, to survive and yet nature seemed invincible.

At night, Man lay on a rock, shading him from the torrents of rain that nature was throwing at him, ready to give up, ready to accept defeat, ready to be another species hiding from nature’s fury. In a last pang of frustration, he picked up a pebble and with all his hatred threw it at the rains outside. The winds howled in laughter.

Man kept throwing rocks and nature continued to mock him. In one last fit of rage, he picked up the last rock with his bloodied hands and threw it at the floor in front of him with all his remaining strength. They say, he wanted to break open the heart of Gaia, the Spirit of the Earth.

All he saw was a spark.