The Egg Genesis
Commission for a client at FE
In the beginning, there was nothing; the darkness surrounded everything, except for one being, one that transcended existence. He was an egg, filled with the knowledge and divine essence, only one of his kind.
Looking around, he found himself lonely; as his need for company grew, he decided to create a realm for himself and one for beings that could possibly worship him, although the possibility was in a middle ground; the possibility that people could create cults aimed toward cracked him up...
The Egg looked around; it was quite dark and frightening, making him wonder if there was something he could do to fix that situation; an idea crossed his mind as he searched around, wondering what he could do.
``Let there be light!'' he yelled, basking the world he created in light; it was good light, for it came from him. It chased the darkness, making his creation pure once again, but it seemed empty once more; what could he do? It was unfair to chase it away, for it could have a purpose, a utility for the balance...
Inspired by his own thinking, he separated them, creating the days and the night; encouraged by his own success, he went on a creating frenzy, giving birth to stars, the sky, the continents, the plants, the sun and the moon, the animals and monsters and finally the chickens, made partly in his image, for no one could equal him and he would make sure that this would stay that way until the end of time.
But the mortals weren't the only ones that were created; immortal ones, companions of the divine Egg, were also created, to help spread the glory of the divine Yolk, a task easy to do in these days of the garden.
After all, he felt alone in the divine fridge; he needed company, so he wouldn't go bad or mad with power. A few companions would keep him on the level, or at least give a punching bag when he would feel down; it's not like they could retaliate against him.
The mortals served the same purpose, but as for now, he had to wait; as they didn't rub themselves in the batter of sin yet, he couldn't let himself boil over this issue, yet. But when the time would some, he would have quite the fun...
But some of them were bitter, cackling about being treated unfairly; why was the Egg caring about the mortal than them? Weren't they his preferred children? Didn't they matter more than mere piles of dust? How the celestial Egg could be that cold-hearted toward them; the one that embodied that vision was Lucifer, the morning star, beloved by the Egg.
But as the day passed, he wanted more than the affection he received from the Egg; he wanted to be loved like the mortal chickens, to have the same attention brought to him, which, in the long-term, displeased the Egg. He wanted his creations to obey him, not question his actions; he gave them free will, but that was to follow the path he gave them, not to ask questions that could make them fall from grace. If he asked them to bow down to the mortal chickens, it because there was a good reason for it...
It was with a heavy yolk that he had to banish him and the others from Heaven, casting them down on the earth, where they would wander for a while, before they found an area they could claim as their own.
It was hot, different from what they were used too, but from now on, they would be lords of this new domain, under the earth, one domain that would use by those that sought refuge from the wrath of Egg.
The fact that they were now hidden in what resembled a gigantic oven was a mere coincidence; this structure was the result of pure luck, although it was a welcomed result, for it mocked the kingdom of the Egg.
But the transition wasn't smooth; warped by the heat, the rage and the bad weather, the chickens changed, transformed into new, horrific beings bend on destroying the construction of the Egg.
The followers were now horrible monsters, losing their feathers and beaks in the process; they were now clear skinned abominations, waking on two legs, wearing strange items made of something called fabric while giving themselves the name Cook. Overseeing them was one cook higher than the other, adorning himself with a white suit and a pouch of seven spices, to, in his own words, fry the creation of the Egg.
But these were nothing compared to what happened to Lucifer, to once beautiful angel of the morning. Disfigured by his passage to the underworld, he was now a different being, assuming the shape of a frying pan.
Black as the deepest darkness, made of the thickest cast iron, it was a sight to behold, as it sat upon the raging flames, plotting against the work of the Egg, waiting for the opportunity to make an omelet out of him.
The day would come, where they would meet again and where he would fry that Egg; but until then, there were chickens to be sauté and tempted, until the entire work of the creation would be destroyed...