Gaia – New Fiction Writing by S. H. Marpel
Something was seriously wrong. Or she had slept too long. It didn’t matter much. She was awake now.
The ground around her rumbled as she slipped off what served for her bed coverings. To you and I, it would seem like solid rock, but to Gaia, it was simply another space. Over there – her wardrobe. Over here – brush, comb, mirror. Hanging on her bedpost, her soft and comfortable robe to cover her bare limbs. Beneath her feet were a small rug and fluffy slippers to keep her feet warm as she crossed the cold marble to the fireplace.
At that side of the room, the eternal flames from the magma below warmed her as she stood in front of them. First her hands and front, then turning with her back to it.
A comfortable bedroom, filled with memories of her childhood and growing up.
Something had awakened her.
Just as her room appeared to us as solid crystal inside volcanic stone, time to her wasn’t measured in years or centuries. It was more fluid. She had no days, no sunrise or sunset to mark its passage.
Gaia slept when all was right with the planet she called home. There was balance. And everything knew its place, its job, its duty – and filled these. With nothing to do, no one to give lessons to, no action necessary to take, she could sleep.
And when she woke, it was to restore balance.
Something was imbalanced in the world above, that needed her touch again after her long sleep.
She was born with this planet, or so they told her as a child. Her fretful tumblings in her cradle and her crying had raised mountains on its surface, had caused volcanoes to erupt. Large land masses had sunk beneath its seas, while ocean depths rose to the sun in turn – to dry and teem with the little organisms called life.
She slept when she had balance, woke when things were not.
And the creatures on the surface, in all their arrogant “wisdom” still could not measure in their terms just when she had slept and when she woke and walked “their” surface.
More than once, she had decided to simply “start over” with a clean slate. To those small creatures, it must have seemed cataclysmic. To Gaia, it was nothing more than the wave of her hand…
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