She was born, in the fire before the world. She woke, to flames. Her voice broke the silence.
It was good.
And her song called forth her shadow from the inferno, sleepwalking, sleepwaking, and his fingers stretched long, and from their embrace was born this world.
They fell to battle, and he fell to the bare stone.
His blood became the oceans, and his bones cracked and became the steppe-ring mountains, and his breath became our life.
written for this week’s Inspiration Monday prompts: Alien Myth and Sleepwalking. I think I succeeded in writing an alien creation myth – what do you reckon?