The Nimbus
Little by little, the Nimbus eked into the world through a small hole no bigger than a cicada’s compound eye.
The cicada in question was singing his loud song at around 108 dB and was hoping to attract a worthy mate. What it found instead, however, was the Nimbus worming its way in to our dimension.
It surrounded the cicada’s head, which made it appear as if countless realizers, thousands of them, were peering out into reality.
The realizers were from all times and places and species. Some laughed or cried aloud, some danced (one of them the jig), and some just sat and beamed out their energies like everloving transmitters of Happiness Itself.
And one began speaking—in a deep, resonant voice more suitable to a human than a bug.
“Gather around, everyone,“ it said. “Gather round.”
It gestured with the wave of a wing and then continued.
“Now is the time when you finally must choose which path you will take. If you choose the path of love and creativity, things will be difficult, but you will prosper greatly within.
“But it you choose the path of fear and closure, you will live mostly as underground nymphs, emerging only ever so often and dying within a few weeks of emerging from the soil.
“So, choose well, my tasty lovelies. Choose well.“