Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Consqeuences

For forty days and forty nights, Elboreh loosened his belt and unleashed a massive storm of anger upon the world. Rain overflowed the oceans and boiling springs were drawn forth from the ground. In His punishment of the wicked, all creatures big and small were denied the right of breath. However the Good were not forsaken, for a crude wooden sanctuary buoyed above the warring waters as the flood swept the land free of its impurities. The scent of straw and blood wafted from the warm belly of the ark in the midst of utter cataclysm.
The waves rose and fell, heaving themselves against the struggling ark. The sea spat and slobbered on a meal it failed to devour, while salty claws collapsed over the sides of the structure. The ark's bow reared up above the sea as its stern dipped low into the pommeling waves. Frothing water surged and onto the deck, pouring itself into every crooked notch and crevice of the wood. Elboreh extended a graceful hand and lowered the bow down to the sea, leveling the ship back to safety.
With his tempest hunger satisfied, Elboreh struck the sea into submission. The seeting waters calmed and the tumultuous ocean receded from the land. Ahead of the ark, a tall mountain grew from the departing sea. Elboreh breathed, releasing a gust of wind that blanketed the ark and steered it on a path that lead directly towards the looming terrain. A terrible wail echoed across the world as the ship's hull impaled itself upon the mountain's peak. Jagged rocks chewed on the saturated wood as the ark groaned. Shuddering, it drew to a halt, exhaling a groan of resignation.
The splintered sanctuary lay stunned through the forty first and forty second nights. On the forty third day, the ship returned to life with a faint heartbeat that grew with time. Rustling feathers, restless stomping and impatient snorts all compounded together in a single, pulsing melody.
On a day not numbered, the ark's only window opened. A sleek white bird emerged, perched on the a thin, pale wrist. The animal quivered for a moment, perhaps unsure of its surroundings, but swiftly gathered its wings and flew off into the mountain. The ivory beast returned soon after, but was released again. On its second homecoming, the bird carried a freshly plucked sliver of olive flesh in its mouth. This was a good sign, for the wrist reappeared and the bird flew away once more. It did not return.
Several days passed and the noises inside the ark became increasingly agitated. Cries were no longer muffled and suppressed; squawks, roars, yips and whinnies bellowed beyond the ship's wooden ribs, where they reverberated freely across the mountainous land.
When it seemed as though the ark's belly would burst from all the commotion, a great gash appeared on the side of the ship as its wooden door slid away. Out of the ark paraded a thousand trumpeting beasts, led by a frail, bearded man wearing a shabby gray tunic. Hooves and paws struck the ground, raking away the soft top soil. Wide nostrils sniffed the air, clearing the animals' lungs of stale must. The beasts leaped and bucked with uninhibited joy as they scattered themselves as far and wide as their lives would allow.
And so, the first sun set on the new kingdom of Earth. Many more followed, but never again as pure as the first. High in the mountains of Ararat, the skeletal ark, long forgotten and decomposed with time, eventually crumbled in silence. As the world spun, so did Man's web, until the Earth glistened and dripped with his silken strands of concrete. His spirit, once strong in faith, was heavy and feeble with sin. Far from his creation, he lived in corruption and played with cruelty. Flagged by his guilt, he built his house higher to escape from his filth. Formerly forgiven, his ignorance would not go without restitution. In the bowels of the Earth, where no water can reach, horrible creatures, once dormant, began to stir. Exiled from the Light after the birth of man, they slept without waking, half starved and without sin to sooth their aching guts. The odorous stench of man's sins, slowly sinking, awoke the stomachs of these terrible beasts. Powered by an eternal craving, they clawed and bit their way to the surface, where they burst from the ground in a stream of revulsion. In his own naivety, he handed he blessed reign to the filth he provoked. Enslaved by his actions, his damnation overruled him. The towers he built toppled and crushed him. Flames swept his cities and burned his knowledge. Man, crying for mercy, was given none, for from dust was he risen, and to dust he returned.

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