I Paint Stories with Stars

Record 1

I am painting with the stars. Shaping these words I’m writing with the giant orbs of light. The galaxy is my canvas. I am writing to document my adventures. There are big, beautiful globes below me. One is colored in shades of green and cerulean, with pretty white mist swirling on its surface. I tried to float towards the globe. Tried to touch it. I instantly recoiled. The globe was cold to the touch. The ones next to it were similar shades of red. One sizzled at my fingertips. The other was filled with pungent gas.

I am lonely.

Record 2

I decided to explore one of the globes. I hurtled through the atmosphere and saw orange and yellow light haloing my entire celestial body. I felt an unbearable heat. When I landed, sweat coated every inch of my body.

I’m writing this record in the dirt. The stars are long gone. The texture of my words is funny. It feels like sawdust under my fingernails.

There are huge creatures with speckled skin and taut hides and gaping maws. They look terrifying, but they run from me. I cannot be that scary, but I seem to be.

Record 3

I must have fallen into a deep slumber, for when I awake, everything is different. I still write with dirt, but the world is on fire. Everything is black and burned and crumbling into ash. Black, powdery dust encircles me. I am the only living thing left unharmed.

The huge creatures from before are gone. Every one of them was wiped out.

Record 4

I’ve noticed something. When I fall asleep, I do so for long periods of time. This time, when I awoke, I was buried in rock and sand and dirt.

Nearby, two ape-like creatures were licking each other. They looked at me with their inquisitive, bright eyes, asking me questions I could not seem to answer.

These two creatures live in a cave. They walk in a sort of deranged way, crouching, struggling to stand on two legs, wobbling from side to side. I somewhat pity them.

I’ve decided to take residence in the cave across from theirs. I carve my records in stone instead of dirt.

They last longer.

Record 5

I slept for a short period of time when night fell. When I woke up, the two creatures from before were long-gone, replaced with hundreds of their brethren.

They touched me freely. Some patted my glowing head. Some growled at me. One licked me, and that was the end of it.

I stood up, shook them off my legs, and retreated into the darkness of my cave.

Record 6

The world has changed. Greatly.

There are new creatures, some four-legged, some miniscule, some terrifyingly huge. The ones with the most power are humans. They stand on two legs. Can fight, hunt, fuck.

I’ve learned to control my powers. I blend in with them. Turn a damper on my light. After seeing what they look like, I closed my eyes, blended some humans’ features together, and shapeshifted. No one taught me how to do that. I just knew.

They were always kind to me. Given me food and shelter when I was in their weaker form. I decided that they would be my children. I would shape this world to their liking.

The first course of action is to provide them with an actual language. They point and grunt and make wretched noises. I cannot let my children keep on going like this.

So, I closed my eyes, opened my mind, and let a fraction of my knowledge seep into their brains.

They are the first species to speak in an actual language.

Their voices are rough. Over time, they become more accustomed to the language.

I think my mission with them is complete.

I’ll sleep in a forest this time.

Record 7

I’ve woken and am pleasantly surprised to hear them around the world. They have sweet, singsong voices. They all worship me. Tell stories about seeing me in their dreams—which is my fault; in my slumber, I wander into the dreams of others.

They call me different names. Allah, Zeus, Odin, Brahma, Jesus, Gaia. God. They treat me like I’m divine. In reality, I was here before them. I was just as confused as them. And yes, I did have “supernatural powers” compared to their species—a weak, talentless bunch, if I’m being honest. I’m immortal. And using my mind, I can make anything happen. That doesn’t give me superpowers. It just means I’m unique. And they aren’t.

After thinking for a bit, I decided to make my dramatic entrance again. The world had changed, but so had I. So I walked amongst society and was ridiculed. They were all wearing rags or cloth or fancy, decadent silks.

Apparently, being naked is a crime. They threw stones at me. I had to use a mind lull on all of them to find me the nearest clothes, food, and lodging.

I’m sitting in some cheap inn right now.

I’m writing with a quill and a pot of ink on a piece of parchment.

The sweet, crimson liquid they hand me is making me fall asleep. I suppose it will be a long time till I wake up.

Record 7

I had the most stunning revelation today.

I never fell asleep when I was outside the globes. Or the planets, as the humans prefer to call them (they’ve developed working theories in astronomy, but they’re still foolish enough to believe the Sun rotates around Earth). Perhaps I should travel up. Away from this planet that curses me to slumber.

I will try that. I cannot record anything more now. The ink pot’s resources are almost fully depleted.

Record 8

The stars are as beautiful as they were eons ago. The glimmer still, but faintly. Earth is polluting the rest of the universe. My “children” are efficient, though most lack care for their world. Their environment. The other species besides them.

I send signals down to them when things get out of hand. The humans need a guiding push at times.

Some of them are admirable. Accomplishing note-worthy successes. Others are unfit to call themselves humans.

I doubt I will be writing records with dirt or ink soon.

Maybe I will. Someday.

But until then, I paint stories with stars.