God’s Stage (March Contest)
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
God was the director and the earth was his vacant stage.
From the heavens, He glanced into the theatre and the dark void glared back at him.
A good play or any form of story telling required a strong composition of characters. Each and every individual was required to be unique in their personalities and appearances, and all had to be distinct in their intentions. And not all characters had to be good, for if all characters were genial and unerring in their doings, then there wouldn’t be a story to tell. Wrongful villains must exist along with the moral ones to establish and propel an intriguing, compelling tale.
God pursed His warm lips and, with slight doubt, raised His hands, twirling His lengthy fingers, which dispelled a bright ray of light into the blackness. The beam danced around the stage, sporadic in its movements, and began increasing its luster. Rapidly, its radiance illuminated and filled up the entire space. God placed His hands over his squinting eyes, trying to observe the phenomenon; the stage that was once dark was now shrouded in the explosion of bright light that continued to expand viciously.
And then it slowly subsided and gradually, it took on the form of a bulbous sphere. God looked down at the eccentric creation and announced,
“From now on, you shall be noticed as Summer,”
An element in plays that bolded characters’ spotlights along with their physical display was the atmosphere of the stage, such as the genre of music, the sound effects, the setting, the prop decorations—they all played immensely key roles in the sculpting of each and every appearing cast.
He summoned more of His creations: twinkling rivers and lakes, a torrid sun that brightened the stage, and lush trees with blossoming, emerald-green leaves. Flowers germinated and were sprinkled across fresh patches of grass, and diverse animals roamed the plains. A large, rocky mountain was formed in the corner, a waterfall cascading, and a full rainbow outstretched across the sceneries. A large, glowing sun was placed above the cloudless skies, pompously exemplifying its brilliance and symbolizing peace and happiness.
“The moment you enter on stage, your appearance will be confronted with the music of beauty and elegance—the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. Your stage will be adorned with trees, pure blue skies, stunning sceneries, and distinct creatures will fill the emptiness.”
God paused for Summer to digest his decree.
He opened his lips, “You will be granted the personality of happiness and compassion. You will be flawless of guilt—a figure of morality and justice—and your radiance will make my creations around you ecstatic to be in your presence.”
Summer peered at the wonderful creations around it and observed the altered stage.
“Go forth and fulfill your deed,” God ordered, and Summer followed, hovering off the stage. The setting of the stage then shifted back into the empty void, as if nothing had changed in the first place—a clean slate for a new character.
Without hesitation this time, God waved His arms in a circular motion, forming a frigid, twirling gust of wind on stage. The air quickly spun and took on the form of a vortex, and in a matter of seconds, an immense beam of gale was wavering around the theatre. God formed one of His hands into a tight fist and swung it towards the ground, cutting through the dense air. The wind promptly replicated His movement, the vortex rapidly flattening with the weight of His swing, becoming a disc of hovering air. Then God slowly inhaled and blew His breath toward the paper-thin cloud. As the disc and His breath mixed, the two mingled and coagulated into an orange-hued substance, its composition still airy and light enough to sporadically float around the stage. The creation then sprung up and moved around, its form continuously warping with life and unexpectedness.
God gawked down at His creation, His lips curving into a satisfied grin.
“Autumn,” His voice echoed and shuddered throughout the empty theatre. “From now on, you shall be recognized with that title.”
The orb glowed slightly brighter to signal that it was listening.
God firmly snapped His lengthy fingers and sprinkled the theatre with more of his creations to fit the atmosphere with the character. The stage began morphing; the sky darkened into a gray tone and thin layers of clouds masked the sun’s rays. The empty theatre was ornate with gaunt trees, shedding its crisp, orange leaves across the ground. Droplets of rain drizzled from the ceiling, establishing small puddles, and the leaves and twigs that plummeted rustled and danced with the wisps of wind. Animals arose from thin air and rushed to collect food, as the melody of rain and wind engulfed the scene.
He announced and crafted Autumn’s personality: a sly figure, unpredictable in its actions—disguised and known for its coruscating and dazzling beauty, when truly in the inside was a fabricator and an alleviator of wrongdoings. Therefore, God intentionally designed the stage in such a way. Although in appearance, the leaves were twinkling and beautiful in their colors, their shift in hue from green to orange and yellow were due to the fact that they were perishing. The light winds and rain acted as a foreshadowing of the hectic storm, frigidness, and evil that would soon come, and the fine veils of clouds masked the radiant sun that symbolized elation.
“Go now,” God beckoned, and Autumn heedfully exited the stage, and just as before, the stage was restored into a blank canvas.
God firmly placed his hands in front of Him, His fingers outstretched in all directions. As He got prepared to create the character this time, He felt an eerie chill creep along the back of His spine, like worms, as beads of sweat rolled past His eyes.
Dark smog swallowed the entire theatre, and through the blackness, a minute cube-like creation was dauntingly and mysteriously visible. As the smoke faded, the cube became more defined. Its structure was rigid and fixed to the ground, almost as if it was rooted.
“You are Winter,” God spoke, His voice quavering.
Leafless trees twitched from the floor. The ceiling was covered by dense clouds, which completely blocked off sunlight. Hail and snow collapsed and blanketed the floor. The violent roars of hail and snowstorms erupted; God created animals to confront Winter’s entry, but the harsh music and scene decorations frightened them off into holes and burrows. God shifted away from the theatre; even He felt alarmed by His creation.
God declared and injected Winter will the personality of hatred; its entrance alone would be intimidating enough to dispel all animals away, and the warm glow of the sun was completely shut off. Strong wind currents growled incessantly. The gaunt skeleton-like trees swayed and the plants and flowers decayed to worthless, dried shells.
Summer—the main protagonist and savior of the play. Autumn—the canny sidekick of the main villain, foreshadowing the coming of more evil. And Winter—the main antagonist of the story, wreaking havoc and spreading its hatred amongst nature and organisms.
All three characters were created, just as God had planned originally . . . but something felt hollow. An element felt missing, and God couldn’t quite grasp what it was . . .
Just as Winter departed from the main stage and earth resettled into the vacant void, it struck Him.
Having two characters with drastically opposing views and consciences, it would be difficult for Winter and Summer to mediate their differences and get along well. Autumn being the impish sidekick of Winter wouldn’t help with Summer and Winter’s conciliation. For the story to propel further, there had to be another character equipped with such a task.
The stage suddenly shuddered and a beam of luminesces opened from the ceiling. Amongst the dark stage, a small, nervous blue orb of light glowed into view.
Almost instantly with the orb’s appearance, the ceiling flourished to an azure aqua. Splashes of cotton clouds were sprinkled across, not obscuring the presence of the sun. Animals that were sleeping in their nests and burrows slowly came out as the light of the sun washed over the horizon. Signs of flowers’ growths were noticeable in small spurts across the grass fields, and the trees had lush leaves blooming along their branches.
God finally gave the orb a personality as he did with His prior characters: the personality of patience, kindness, and willingness to help others around it. Its presence signaled the departing of the clouds that once covered the rays of the sun, and allowed blissful light to brighten the earth once again. It inspired the animals that were sheltered and hidden from outside to venture out again and experience the growth of nature after Winter’s havoc.
The last character had been established—the mediator between the protagonist and the antagonist. The character that dispelled evil qualities and brought the qualities of Winter closer to the qualities of Summer.
“Spring,” God spoke. His voice was quiet, yet it gleamed with satisfaction. “You will be known as Spring.”