A Story

A crowd of 5 sit around a rickety wooden table in a room, faces shadowed from the moonlight. A candle casts light around the room, a sole candle at the table's center. Suddenly the candle flame is upstart in a tiny chaos, throwing light haphazardly in every direction. The five are ready to commune the sentence of the fate of their world. These souls are about to embark through a world self made...

The first, fire reflecting on his dark indestinguishable countenance and deep in his pure eyes, spoke: "Let there be Light!" And in an upstart like the candle but still as God the room is filled with white. The moon outside has turned into a ball of clay embedded quiet in the sky.
A silk shawl waved around the neck of the second as if wind blew in the room. If mystery could speak words, her voice and her mind would be it. Like wind contained in a whisper, she spoke: "Let there be Life!" And there was all.
The Third, a soul of strong will and noble persuasion, spoke: "Let there be Man!" The candle flame rioted, and then was still.
The fourth raised his sober expression to meet the faces of his accomplices. Anger shot through his eyes, accusing his accomplices with a heart of hard malice. Through a deep and dark mouth this scarred one spoke: "Let there be War!" And there was sorrow.
The fifth. Stood with tense anticipation. Tempering hysteric laughter, this one's mouth opened to reveal his sentence, and the candle flame spoke no more. Quieted, the smoke rose from the dead candle, and the fifth sat with just as dead a mind as the room grew darker. But there was light outside, and there was the beginning.