I can write too! Sometimes

((Rather than write all these other story ideas I have, I'm so transfixed on this one even though I don't think it's that good. Maybe that's the best way to start, actually. Anyways, here's the beginning to what's been rattling in my head for the past few months. There's a whole lot more to come after this tiny thing.))




-Reset-

Prologue

A man stands upon a cliff, watching the end of the world. He wasn't sure why, but it was something he had grown fond of. When one expects a world to die, they picture it as some grand calamity with storms of fire and hail, mountains sinking into the land, and oceans drowning the cities. But when a world truly dies, it does not go out in a ball of smoke. It simply withers away. The winds no longer blow, the oceans dry out, all the lush greenery turns brown and brittle, and everything waits in silence for the end to come. There's no rain, no fire, no cataclysm, just a quiet death.
There was a morbid beauty to it. Eons and eons of creating life for itself, and it all comes to an end in a matter of days. Dying is so much simpler than living, the man mused. Perhaps he was finally beginning to enjoy his work. He looked up to the blank sky and drew in a breath as the last stage was about to begin.
When the world dies, it takes the sky with it. The vast ceiling above them would be pulled back and everything on the surface would be exposed to the frigid darkness beyond it. All that will remain of a once pure and beautiful world will be a withered husk. And as for the man, he would simply move on to the next world. As he had done so in the past.

He waited with bated breath for the end to come. In the first minute, nothing happened. Then the second came; still nothing. After the third minute, the man grew curious. This world had fallen so easily compared to the others, so how was it still holding on? Then, in the back of his mind, a voice spoke to him.
"Is there something the matter?" the man asked.
The voice had a request.
"I thought the job was finished. Why is there a delay?"
The voice had an idea.
"Your idea? Or her idea?"
The voice ignored him and continued speaking.
"Halting the process is too risky and will expend far too much of your po-"
The voice began shouting furiously at him. The man groaned and clutched his head in pain.
"Very well. If that is what you desire, Master. Now tell me, what was this idea of yours?"
There was a tone of twisted pleasure in the voice as it spoke of its plan. The man could already tell that he was going to regret this.