Achilalabopa -- A Lonely Creator By: Tyvara
Throughout the blackness of space, in a time before time, Achilalabopa flew. The beautiful rainbow feathers covered her like rows of metallic knives, the razor tips of her flight feathers slicing through the nothingness as she drifted alone. All of her existence she had wandered through the black as she searched for something or someone.
Her loneliness consumed her and it filled her belly with an ache. Centuries of capricious soaring had led her nowhere. Life remained nonexistent beyond herself.
When the ache grew so great, she doubled over in pain. Spasms rocketed through her, and her wings whipped at the emptiness around her. Her motions stirred up dust from the farthest corners of the blackness, churning the nothingness into a frenzy of clouds. The spark from her sharp, metallic feathers ignited the dust, and in a blast of electric fire, stars and nebula spread across the cosmos. Her wild movements sent balls of gaseous fire hurtling from her. However, Achilalabopa could only watch the clouds form and dissipate, their colors swirling about her in a vast display of form and light.
The pain continued to grow, like a swell within her, an opening and closing of a sharp stabbing anguish in her deepest parts. All she could do was float in the weightlessness of nothing, and endure. The stretching and swelling filled her as if her abdomen swallowed too much air, but the bubble pushed against her like a rock filled of pain. Once a bulge pressed against the opening between her legs, she looked down to see a round egg, swirled with blues and brown, protruding from her.
Pushing with all her might, the globular egg fell free of her body in a burst of fluid that mixed with the dust and stellar debris of her laborious laying. It stretched out across the expanse of stars coating them in a wash of white.
Achilalabopa heaved, exhausted from her ordeal. Yet as she lay amid the color of the newly created verse of stars, she began to realize what she had done. Looking down at the little marble of bluish-green, her keen eye saw the life moving within it. Worried that the debris she kicked up would return to break her precious egg, she set about protecting her treasure.
To warm the little orb, she plucked a bright white star and positioned it at a perfect distance to keep it warm. She kicked up balls of solid dust and arranged them around the swirling marble to serve as a buffer, lifeless rocks to catch the stray missiles. As a final touch, she sent each ball spinning around the star, their orbit ensuring the survival of her precious egg of brown and blue.
With everything as it should be, Achilalabopa flew into the void, with her knowledge of creation, she had much work left to do. She would never be alone again.
As the shaman of the kit fox tribe finished his tale, the smoke from his mystic fire sputtered around the dwindling fire. The younger foxes around him looked toward their shaman in awe.
"Is that really the story of creation?" one of the youngest asked, his long ears laid back with wonder.
"So our people have told for centuries." The shaman patted the young one's tawny head.
"Did Achilalabopa lay any other worlds?" another asked, his tail flicking in excitement.
"We're not sure; she never returned. Yet many believe she continued on her flight through space, and when her loneliness grew intense enough, she lays another egg."
According to the book, Achilalabopa is a celestial bird with rainbow feathers and wings like knives. According to Native American myth of the Pueblo peoples she may have been considered responsible for the whole of creation. That's all there is. Sometimes these entries bug me with their vagueness. But then again, it gives me room to flex my imagination.
When I read this entry, my first thought was of an image by purplekecleon (I can no longer link it since all their art is gone.). It's more the style than the character, but it all sort of came together forming this picture in my mind. The brush strokes made me visualize this giant rainbow bird amid space and the egg laying, well I think that part's self explanatory.
I hope it's not too odd.
Thanks for reading.