Spacelove
Flash fiction: A pair of cosmic gods court each other by sharing their celestial creations.
Two cosmics met in a crooked corner of the universe.
“It’s been a while,” said Havoc. Her smokey eyes pined to riot. Below, her smile was small, fused to a rowdy nebula.
“Not long enough,” teased Principle. His posture was defined by orbits. Expressions and emotions followed a schedule, at the alignment of moons and planets in his icy belts.
“What have you been up to? Where have you been?” Havoc lounged, careless of the quasars that were spilling out of her. She’d gather herself up later. For now, she’d be comfortable as they courted.
Principle sighed a comet shower. “Oh. You know. Making things work. Tempering suns and bringing balance.”
Havoc cackled plasma. “Balance has never brought a world to life. You have to experiment, go wild, and set the natural world free.”
“Order prevails over chaos.” Principle threw back. “And the Game shall prove it. Permanence will win in the end.”
“Well, I’ve got something fleeting that should interest you.”
“Oh,” said Principle, deep in his orbits.
The stars cried out as Havoc tore into spacetime and poured through the portal. Beneath the two cosmics, a silver storm roared across a planet.
“How lovely,” charmed Principle.
Havoc flushed with cherry-red heat. “Watch the storm.” She looked at the clouds with longing. Lightning waged war. Long bolts rocked the world.
“They’re thinking,” Havoc explained. “I brewed nerves the length of continents. The winds blow thoughts together into storm minds.”
A living hurricane plotted below, a creature of giant desire. Its mighty downstream tendrils wrapped around the little vortexes and blizzards. Some escaped, but slow storms were swallowed into colossal clouds.
“Abominations,” Principle muttered. But Havoc knew he adored it. Pure experience. A world alive, of feeling.
“It’s messy, yes. But nothing matches the raw heartbreak of a cloud affair. I haven’t seen life more beautiful. And what do you got?” Havoc brushed Principle’s shoulder, igniting a flare of pure white energy. Whenever they touched they made stardust.
Principle performed calculations to reorder the stars. As spacetime aligned to his design, he noted, “Manifest when we arrive.” Together they stepped onto the surface as people. The atmosphere was composed of melodies that tickled the skin.
“Missed my body?” Havoc flirted. Principle didn’t answer. Their manifestations were never the same twice, but Havoc invariably chose that wild black hair, and Principle was drawn to a fine suit. As they walked, Principle tried to not dote too much on the shine of Havoc’s cheeks today.
“Here, music is the order of everything. Mathematical communication – measures and sequences and logical noice – pulls every solo together, into harmony.”
A wing chimed in the breeze, Ha-ha-ha! Wash your dirty hands in the river here.
Leafy boughs beckoned, Eat my berries and spread my seeds. Fuh-fuh-fuh!
And it seemed the whole world sang. Anyone’s hunger was a global concern and all abundance was shared.
“Every creature plays its part.” Principle said.
Havoc tsk-tsked and critiqued, “I see no individuality. Everything is conducted in aggregate. No privacy, always bound to another. What happens in a famine? Does your sweet music decide who lives and who must die?”
“I offer resilience to change, not immunity,” Principle admitted. “We make our arguments as we always have. Only the Game will tell whose interpretation of the universe is correct.”
“And I’m winning the Game,” Havoc grinned. Those cheeks. That smile.
“How about we check?”
At this invitation, Havoc snapped and their bodies dissolved. Their souls swam through a dark artery, until they emerged in that little pocket they called the Game.
The board was set in the bottom drawer of the universe, cluttered with a battle that began long ago. Chaos versus order. Good against evil. It was a duel with many names. Opposites brawled.
The game pieces were made from the essence of the two cosmics themselves. The victor would be proven, in that ever-raging question with love, who dominated, who was stronger, who was beheld to whom.
On one end of the strip were the legions of Principle, led by his Trinity of three heroes. One, the father who studied the legions from the lighthouse. Two, the son who stood boldly on the castle walls. Three, the holy beast that flashed white teeth as it stalked its foes.
The foes. Against the rows of Principle’s legions, Havoc’s soldiers slithered under the cover of writhing willows. Her scattered soldiers clung to the shadows with hidden blades bound to their skin. In a dark tower at the bottom of the strip, commanded the Vandal, a dire empress who spun slick mirages and summoned auxiliary willows, as her army crept ever closer to the frontlines.
In the middle of the strip, the armies clashed in stalemate, creating white oblivion. Neither Havoc nor Principle could see into that void – the pulsing, empty frontlines. All they could do was wield the Vandal and the Trinity to stir up new bodies to march to the frontlines.
They watched together from their heavenly thrones. Havoc sparked, “Ever wonder what’s on the other side?”
Her gravity was overwhelming. Principle wanted to reach out to her, to bring her into that bright white oblivion that they created together. If only he could ask her. If only –
“Say Prince, you know you can take a risk with me.” she said, seeing the indecision consuming him. He just laughed, unsure what to say.
Principle paused as he weighed her proposal. They didn’t know what was on the other side of embracing their opposite. They might not ever leave that other side. Oh, the terror or beauty that lingered on the other side!
“I promise to be with you,” Havoc said. “If you meet me there.”
That’s all it took for Principle to manifest. They fled to their opposite lines, unraveling from cosmic greatness. Principle split into the Trinity. Havoc bowed into the Vandal. Armies paused from their assault into the void. Havoc swung on the boughs of the shadow willows, avoiding the traps and pits her land had dug. Principle marched in file through the trenches – Father, son, and beast, towards the frontlines.
A last breath, and they stepped past the white wall between the spectrums they commanded.
It wasn’t what they were expecting. But it was everything Havoc wanted, everything Principle wanted, as they held each other in that hidden land.
This blog post is part of Daniel Rowe's Blog, Offworld, exploring joy through mediums such as science fiction, fantasy, pet journalism, and more.