An Old World
It started with a tremble that caused the oceans to roil, but then it grew and grew until the very mountains were shaking in their very roots, for the world had started to quake. Whole cities fell amidst waves that touched the sky and once tranquil meadows split, sending a cascade of sheep and cattle into the depths below. That was when it all started, when the old world died, and a new one was born.
What is the First Thing that Comes to Mind?
The answer to this question depends of course on what the question iself is asking. Was the question asking what was the first thing that came to my mind right after it was read or what was the first thing that came to my mind from my whole lifetime?
If the qustion is asking the latter, then the answer to that I couldn't say. What could have been the first thing that ever came to my mind? Did this thing come to my mind when I first learned to form words or did it come earlier, perhaps when I was born? Or did it come earlier, when I was still two-cells tall?
But what if the question isn't referring to my mind, but someone else's mind? The question itself merely said "to mind." not at all reffering to one mind in general. So who's mind was it reffering to? Was if perhaps my dog, who's mind would be utterly incomprehendable when first created? Or perhaps the the question was asking what the first thing is that comes to my mind of what would be in my dogs mind. The answer to that would be three words, "Give me food."
Or was it perhaps reffering to the creator, the one who was here before the world? The one who had the ultimate mind. If so, then I could not say the first thing that came to his mind because he is ageless, time infinite in all direction, neverending from beginning to end. Not that there is any beginning or end.
But of course if the question was refferring to the former; what was the first thing that came to my mind right after I read the question, well that would be the question itself. So here I find myself at a rare occurance, the question and answer are the same thing.
The Worst Thing that Humans Do to Each Other
When I sit down to think about all the worst things that people do to each other, when I look at the world around me, I find a simple answer. Disregard. People disregard. They're selfishness wraps around them, becoming their life, passion and ambition, and turning them blind to the real world around them, the world that matters. Many people don't stop and think about all the consequences that could happen. Would a theif be a theif if he knew what his practice would do to those from which he has taken from? Would a daughter yell at her mother if she knew what wound her words would inflict? Or if it was opposite, would the mother hurt the daughter? Many people don't stop to think of these things, therfore they are filled with ignorence. They disregard.
But what if they did think these things and look carefully over the consequences? Would they then be filled with compassion and decide against their harmful actions? Or would they disregard the consequences and continue in their practices and plotting?
So then, what would the world be like if the human race did not disregard?
The Reflection in the Looking Glass
She had never wanted it. Not from the beginning. Not in the end. Never.
The mirror was were it started. The mirror was where it would end.
The woman stepped up to it and stared into the cold depths. A little girl of adulthood stared back from behind the glass with shattered eyes and sunken cheeks. Her fingers worn to the bone and her ribs showing through her shirt. Blood dripped from her wrists, where obsidian shackles encircled them, embedded to the bone. Obsidian chains surrounded her, pooling around her feet. She made no movement, no expression. It was too late.
The woman stared at the little girl, a raindrop falling down her pale cheek.
There was nothing else left.
“Looking glass upon the wall, who is fairest of us all?” She spoke the words. Words she had spoken a thousand times. Words that had added a thousand links to her chains. Words that when first spoken, had sealed her wrists in black bracelets.
The little girl vanished, replaced by a towering queen. A tall crown stood atop her head, and her beauty was unquestionable with full red lips, fair skin, high cheekbones, and black hair set in delicate curls. But it was a transparent beauty. Beneath it, the queen bore cracked lips, shriveled skin, sagging cheeks, and scraggly greying hair.
She smiled evilly, “You know what to do?” The voice of a queen. The voice of a hag.
The woman bowed her head.
The queen laughed and said, “Good, good! After all, we must uphold this,” she gestured to herself, “mustn’t we?”
“Please no! Please!” The woman begged suddenly, another tear sliding down her cheek.
“Oh, no, no no no!” Tittered the queen, “We mustn’t be challenged!”
“You’re a monster!”
The queen only smirked, “I’m not the one who killed the girls mother, now am I?”
The woman only trembled in response.
The queen smiled cruelly knowing that there was nothing that the woman could do.
“Do you have it?” she asked. “Show it to me!”
The woman had to obey, and through a force of will that was not her own she held up a blood red apple.