The Hunger That Saved God
The Hunger That Saved God
In the very beginning of time, my little ponies, when Equestria was still fresh-faced and new, there was but one being in the whole world. And his name was Byerley Godolphin, but he preferred to be known as God. And even with the world so fresh-faced and exciting, he became lonely, and sat in his humble little wooden hut and cried for a month. He wept with such force that his tears flowed out across the world in a great tide, settling in the low places and making all the seas and oceans and rivers that you and I visit today.
God only stopped crying when he heard a strange little noise at his feet, something out of place in a world so new and empty. It was a very strange little chirruping, though of course God did not yet know what it was called. He wiped the tears from his eyes, and opened them to see a most peculiar thing.
A little ball of magnificent colour, no bigger than an orange (though God had yet to invent such things) was sitting at his ankle, rubbing against his leg in a most adorable fashion. God lowered his hooves, and the little ball of colour hopped into them. God brought his hooves close to his face, and almost dropped the creature in his astonishment. It was alive! God was an artist, a creator, and yet this little thing had somehow found life! God had spent many years obsessing over the problem of life; how do you impart hopes and dreams and vivacity and jealousy, all the vibrant splendour of a living being, into inanimate objects? It was the only problem that he had not yet solved and yet here it was, snuggling itself against his cheek!
God felt a great joy sweep across him and take him over. He leapt up from his sitting-place and danced with the creature. He danced in circles all over Equestria, and all over Saddle Arabia, and all over all the many and multitude countries of the early world until he was exhausted, and the tiny creature was shaking with hunger.
“I’m sorry, little fellow! I must have lost track of the time! Here, let me make you something to eat.” And so God scooped up a hoof-ful of the lush brown soil (for now they were back in Equestria) and molded it into a tree. He paid special attention to the leaves, and carefully scored the creases in the bark with the hooves of an artist. And all the while God was doing this, the little round creature was shaking with hunger.
When God saw that the tree was swaying dangerously in the wind, he brushed the breeze to one side as he took another hoof-ful of soil and made the roots. And when he set the tree upright again, the soil welcomed back its brother and made such a strongfast bond that no matter how the wind howled, the roots would never relinquish their grip. And all the while that God was doing this, the little round winged creature was quaking with hunger.
At last, God took a step back, wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked at his hoofwork. But there was something missing. This tree should be vibrant, moving, pulsating with life. But for all of his knowledge, God couldn’t fathom what it was that kept his creation so still and lifeless. And all the while, the creature’s stomach growled, and it could think of nothing but the gnawing sensation in its gut.
With the very last of its strength, the little creature dragged itself piteously over to God’s fetlock and rubbed itself against him, cooing and sighing in distress as the stabbing pains of hunger pricked at its empty and shrunken belly.
God looked down, and saw the tiny creature with its compound eyes shaking against his ankle, weak with famine. God sank to his knees and put his hooves over his face, trying to keep the great wave of sadness from enveloping him and crushing his spirit once again. He ran his hooves through his mane, at a complete loss. Eventually he lay down, the quaking creature cradled in his hooves, and fell asleep.
God dreamt. Images flashed through his mind, of running water shimmering in the sunlight. Of snow settling in the mountains, turning them into hulking white giants that carried the world upon their backs. Of the gorges he had made, gigantic slashes in the sand, wounding his world beyond hope of healing. And through all of his fever-dreams, God noticed the wonder of the world. He saw the marvel he had created, but it was a hollow marvel. For all of his skill, without life his creation was less than worthless. It was drab, dull. Boring. As God slept, a single tear crept out of his eye, and trickled down his cheek to splash a crater in the dust.
The starving little creature woke up, the knife of hunger tearing fresh wounds in his belly. It felt weak, incredibly weak. But it dragged itself inch by painful inch forward, laboriously shuffling itself towards God.
God awoke to a strange sensation. There was a dampness on his cheek, and also something small and sandpapery rhythmically stroking his face. He opened his eyes, and saw the little, starving creature and its tiny tongue licking his face, where his tear track had been. God closed his eyes again, and thought to himself in wonder.
This poor creature, the first friend I have ever had, is starving to death. And yet, he still hasn’t given up! Wondrous, that even in a situation so hopeless he can find hope.
And God’s eyes snapped open, as an idea rushed through his mind. It was a fragile idea, so fragile he daren’t look at it directly for fear it would burst into smoke and ashes. He let his mind rest, coaxing the delicate little thought into the open, and finally turned to face it. And then something marvellous happened.
God laughed. He gently picked up the famished creature, and laughed. Laughed at himself, for being so stupid and shortsighted. Laughed at the creature, for showing him a way when he had thought all was lost. And laughed at the world, for soon his creation would be buzzing with the myriad voices of life; running green and overflowing with joyous beings content to take great bites of life and breathe its air and let his majestic artwork run through their veins.
He had got it.
God set the creature on the ground, and walked once more up to the tree. He closed his eyes and placed his hands reverentially on the bark. He cast his mind back, filling his thoughts with the bravery and tenacity and sheer stubborn refusal to give up that had filled the little creature, and forced the very essence of all that emotion into his lungs. He then exhaled deeply, breathing miraculous life into the tree.
Its once dead branches now glowed with passion, passion to drink up the sunlight and gather nutrients from the ground and most of all to LIVE. The green leaves now took on a hue of their own beyond anything God had ever imagined, and now he could almost hear them growing. He laughed to himself again, softly, and walked over to the little creature.
It was now deathly still, its once brilliant pastel colour faded into a dull grey, and for a moment God thought he had been too late. But then his eye caught the miniscule movement of the creatures breathing, and he felt joy overtake his heart once more, as he lifted the creature onto the tree branch.
“Eat, my little friend, eat! Eat to your hearts content, eat until you can eat no more! Of all my creations I have yet to make, I promise that you shall never be hungry again!”
And the little creature finally stirred, and started chewing the tree’s bark. Gradually, it’s movements became faster and faster as it gained more and more energy, until at the finish there was nothing left of the tree except for a bare stump, its jagged teeth biting at the horizon.
And God laughed once more, because he knew that his creation was far from finished. He had work to do.
