Dawn Of Time

• Sophia Merzliakov, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2020

The place was magical, old and weird but it was home for the creature. The walls were painted a deep-sea blue with white flecks whilst the floor took on the colour of lead. In each crack and crevice, a spider lay thankful that the animal had let them into its home. The creature’s fur was an inky black dotted with white and eyes were a powerful blue. It continued on its walk, eyes fixed on the silver-grey door at the end of the dark hallway. Finally reaching the door the creature stretched up on steady hind legs and placed both paws against the surface, with a slight push it flew open. Inside the room, a bed with maroon sheets rested, while to the left was a golden desk outlined with a harmless flickering flame and completed with a casual metallic chair. Situated at a corner of the desk were a few sky blue books of mysterious ancient scripts. In the other corner, a snow-white quill lay beside a crystal pot of deathly black ink. In the middle of the desk lay the most interesting of items, a glass container of water filled with small globes and rocks. The creature jumped onto the metallic chair and sat down. It looked within the container to watch the large cracked rock floating in the clear water and the eight incredibly different orbs spinning. Each orb a unique colour, size and shape, endlessly spinning around the rock. After some time, the creature wrapped its tail around the crystal ink bottle. The creature knew all, for it was there to create the beginning of everything, and the creature knew this had to be done. It gently dropped a single droplet of ink into the water, then another and another. Soon the bottle was empty. The last of the ink sunk to the bottom of the container turning it into a dark sea. Suddenly a glow emitted from within the central rock, beating like a heart, a wave of light shone out in a fiery glowing pulse pushing back the darkness around the container, lighting up everything from the small orbs and pebbles to massive rocks and puffs of cloud. Slowly the light died down leaving the darkness to sweep back over but amongst the darkness were lights, massive lights bigger than the heart of fire, tiny pinpricks not even close to its size and many more sizes. Even though there were bigger, brighter, more powerful lights than the rock now a flaming ball in the centre of the container, they would never be anything compared to the flaming heart that would become known as the sun. The globes continued twirling, like ballerinas in the inky black water. The cat lifts her head and knew she had done the right thing. Now they would never see her and never know her. Now they could never be concerned about the cat’s world and threats. Now they would be safe, forever wrapped in the blanket of black ink.