Divanah Benros is a full-time student at Full Sail University in the creative writing program. She lives in her own fantasies and loves building new worlds from the ground up. Heavily inspired by video games, she enjoys making both fiction and interactive adventures for others to read and experience.
Always Looking Down On Us
As head of the Celestial Tower, my job is to keep the peace between our otherworldly creators. They look down on and watch over us from the stars, guiding those who worship them to prosperity… is what the public thinks. They don’t really get along, so I put my life on the line to ensure they do.
Out of the nine Celestials that govern our solar system, only five of them are here today. Everyone sits at a large, ring-shaped table among the cosmos while Solaris, creator of our sun, stands in the middle. I breathe in the pure air of this pocket dimension beside Mother’s arm before bracing myself for trouble.
“Come on everyone, now’s the perfect time to hold a meteor shower!” Solaris says, her body’s outer flames pulsing in annoyance. “All you guys do is sit around and talk all day. Let’s do something fun—”
“Hey you, human!” Uranus shouts from across the table. “Why haven’t you held up your end of the deal yet?” His light-blue skin is tinted pink with frustration as the ice surrounding his body seems to freeze over even more. Thin rings of dust and boulders orbit his arms and waist faster and faster.
“Sorry, correcting your name has been difficult to enforce due to the freedom of speech. We’ll keep at it for as long as it takes.”
Uranus turns away grumbling. “You’d better. Stupid humans treating me like a joke.”
Solaris looks around before continuing. “As I was saying—”
“What about this one, human?” Jupiter asks, arms crossed with a proud smirk on his face. One piercing red eye shone through the thick clouds of white, yellow, and brown wafting around the seat making him otherwise hard to see. “Gassy Blaster Master.”
“Now that is a very unflattering title. Try again, buddy.”
“What? But Earth said it was perfect…”
Earth’s, or Mother’s, hair-like moss drapes over her rocky skin as waterfalls stream endlessly from the caves of her eyes. She idly looks at the planet in her hands, then flattens it like playdough.
“Mother, would you please refrain from doing that? I speak on behalf of mankind when I say none of us want another worldwide debate over earth’s shape.”
She pops the planet back into a sphere and twirls it around, sighing. “Aww, but it’s fun watching you children act like detectives.”
Sometimes I wonder who the child is here.
“That’s it.” Solaris’ stern tone caught everyone’s attention. “No one ever listens to me even though I’m the one holding us together. I give everyone light, but no one appreciates it since I’m just an ‘overbearing star.’ I don’t even get mad when some of you are absent. But without unity, don’t expect what you’ve built to last.” The rock-metal core of Solaris’ skeleton started melting as flames shot from every inch of her body. The sun floating by her stomach mimicked her behavior, flares barely being held back by its gravitational pull.
Is she threatening to destroy our solar system? I hide behind Mother’s arm and shout above the explosive flames, “Aren’t you going to do something?”
She stares into space with a bored expression. “I dunno, might be fun to create a brand-new species. Or a brand-new planet.”
“Mother!” Despite her human-given name, she makes a terrible parent.
“But Earth, you said you’d let humans settle on my planet before you got rid of yours,” Mars says. She looks like a barren, dusty version of Mother with pinkish-red skin and hair in the form of volcanoes.
“Hm? I doubt you’d be able to support them, you’re way past your prime,” Mother replies, continuing to stare ahead.
Mars is silent. She once had life, so it’s no surprise she’s jealous over earth’s longevity, even though she doesn’t show it. I use this to my advantage.
“Mars, you’ve had knowledge of life long before humans. Just focus on what you know first, then build on it by incorporating what you’ve seen Mother do. You’re holding all the cards when it comes to a lushly populated planet.”
Mother scoffs, but Mars has a spark in her eye again.
“I bet I can make mars more beautiful and everlasting than anyone else’s planet! Even better than yours, Earth.”
Mother finally looks at Mars. “Is that a challenge?”
“Indeed. This will be a test to see whose creation has the most stamina, but it’s only valid if the planet dies out naturally. You afraid you’ll lose? Earth has been around for a while.”
Mother grins. “Not a chance. Your planet will wither away just like before while mine remains.”
Whew, that’s one problem solved I think?
“So then, Uranus! What’s your take?” Jupiter asks.
“Well… I’d prefer that my name’s last memory wasn’t such an insult, so they’d best get that through their puny minds before I end their pathetic existence,” he replies sheepishly.
Huh. Glad it all worked out.
“Congratulations human, it looks like you get to live another day,” Jupiter cheers. “I couldn’t care less either way, but for such a useless creature, your luck astounds me.”
Wow, and I thought we were friends.
“So, er, Mother, does this mean you agree to listen to Solaris?”
She glances at Mars. “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind.”
“So, are we getting this meteor shower started or what?” Uranus asks.
Solaris’ flames immediately return to normal, her skeletal core hardening again and the sun carrying on as usual. “Oh, yes! I’m so glad we could all come to an agreement. And before you ask, human, I promise the meteors won’t hit anything this time. Maybe.” She pauses briefly before continuing, “Ah, I almost forgot. I have received Pluto’s now fifty-seventh submission as planet. What does everyone—"
Crisis averted, I walk towards the warp pad at the edge of the table. The people are right about one thing, our creators are definitely looking down on us.