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Rated: E · Fiction · Tragedy · #2290269
Write a story that begins AND ends with this line: There's no other way to tell this story
There's no other way to tell this story.

From skin twisted into hardened bark and unveiled roots, to the blood of humans synchronizing with the pulsing of earth's heartbeat, the creation of the True World was not meant to happen for approximately another few billion years. After all, goddesses live forever: so why did she die so soon? And most especially, why was a young man forced to take her place? As an avid researcher of the world's development and the influences of the many creation deities, I still struggle with any apparent reasoning for this situation. The young man, son of Destruction and his mortal wife, had only been another one of the many mortals who had been lended power by those deities. What did he do then, to receive such a position of true immortality?

As I write this, I am referring to the many journals where I have written my notes. Yes, I was aware of what would happen once our goddess died: the metamorphosis of humanity into something intertwined with nature... however, for it to happen so soon? And so drastically, without even a gradual hint? Yes, I did observe the many changes mankind made to the earth - our goddess of creation - and how they transformed it to their liking, as though they had forgotten they were building their tools on a martyr's body. However, did they truly deserve their fates? Of being turned into trees or melding with the ocean as a cascade of souls in the waves?

With endless papers strung along my withered wooden walls, slowly aching with age, as well as the incompetent clutter of books that I had borrowed from the deities themselves scattered across the floor, finding an answer was equivalent to the cause of this boy's position.

Nobody knew why, how, or when this had been decided.

All I knew for certain was one fact, and one fact only, as I am sitting here at my desk with my elderly typewriter and a window merely displaying the decay of humanity as we knew it... outside, the cries of people becoming the wind's aching whistle...

There's no other way to tell this story... than to simply watch and accept it.
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