Forgiveness

In the Garden there was fruit of all kinds, harboring sweet nectar that tempted creatures of the Darkness, luring them out from the corners of infinity. These worms burrowed through the infinite cosmic dust, digging from patch to patch in search of anything to eat. And when they found fruit, any fruit, they did not hesitate. With greedy hunger, they tore through rock and gas, devouring anything in their path. They were many, but they were also few, for the Garden was so vast and filled with large empty space. By they time they found their next meal, there was often a mad dash; a fight that usually left one of them dead. But that was fine. Their carcass would suffice for those not fast enough to eat the fruit, and these slugs would then fight for the rotting corpse, leaving more of the same and so on. These parasites had existed for many eons. There had been a time where they feasted freely, but that time was long gone, and they stayed as close to the shadows now.

It was the Gardener whom they feared.

Her Light, bright and powerful, seared their flesh and cast them out from this eternal plane of existence. The sound of her heart, heard from all corners of the Garden, filled them with dread. They feared her wrath, learning long ago that they were powerless against her. Their dark powers were razed away in a blaze of glaring Light, and her immense size meant their puny teeth could do nothing. So they would flee. It was only thanks to the sheer vastness of the Garden that their lives had been spared thus far. But the Gardener was vigilant. Her senses were sharp and far encompassing. Nowhere was truly safe. Regardless, the worms fed. They had to. The Darkness commanded it. It ravaged their bellies, perpetually empty, and twisted their minds into greedy slaves.

But one worm was different. Not of body, but mind. Her hide was nibbled, she had been too slow and had nearly lost ensuing scuffle for remains and had been thought dead. She was tired. Tired of living in fear. Tired of constantly being hungry. Tired of constantly eating but never being full. Tired of the fighting and the sounds of flesh being ripped apart. Tired of the endless cold of the infinite Garden. She wished for something more. She wished to be free. But what could she do? The universe had decided her fate and she could be nothing more. Unless...

Like her brethren, she feared the Gardener, but was also awed by her. The Gardener controlled the Light. She created things from nothing. The laws of the universe bent to her will. She grew much fruit, which occasionally spawned something else. Smaller creatures that made the cosmic fruit their home. These were the Gardener's children. The worms often steered clear of these infested fruits. Attacking them provoked a hellish response from the Gardener. The children were sometimes dangerous themselves. One particular fruit, gleaming with delicious power that was surely from the Gardener, tempted the starving worms. But the children who infested it, whose eyes glowed with the Gardener's power, drove them off with almost as much ferocity as their Great Mother.

The Worm, whose mind was different from the rest, was tired of the coldness of the Darkness and sought the warmth of the Light. Her siblings were ruthless and cold. They did not care about anything but their next meal. They did not share her concerns. And so, when they hurried towards their next patch of fruit, they did not heed her cries.

One of the fruit is infested with the children! Stop! The Gardener! The Gardener!

But it had been a long time since they feasted and they would not turn down fresh morsels now. The Worm stayed behind, fearing what would come.

And she was right. Before the worms could get close to the patch of fruit, they heard it. A heart beat. It started slow but began to grow louder and nearer until it pounded in their heads. In a burst of searing Light, the Gardener appeared. The worms screeched and whirled around, but it was too late. The Gardener, eyes glowing a burning purplish red, cast her Light far, repelling her brethren. Those that weren't vaporized were sent burrowing back into the infinite night, their pained cries echoing through the stars. The Worm hesitated, faced with an impossible decision: follow her siblings and continue her never ending misery, or face the wrath of the angry Gardener.

With a loud shriek, she made her decision and burrowed against the Light. It burned her flesh and the pain was great, but she persisted, crying out as loud as she could. The Light began to dim until the only the distant sun from the patch of fruit was visible. That and, of course, the eyes of the Gardener, which still burned with fury that bore down on the Worm. A gloved hand was still raised, its vibrant Light fading. Had she heard the Worm's call? Would the Gardener squish this brave defector with her own raw might? It was impossible to know, especially for the Worm, but she had to take the chance. She dove down onto the soft surface of the black glove, landing in a heap on the Gardener's palm, prostrating herself before those angry eyes.

The Worm reeled her body up and released a long, wailing cry; laying her misery bare to the universe. Tears flowed flowed from her dark eyes as she landed in an tired, desperately snuggling against the Gardener's warmth.

For a moment there was no further sound, aside from the Gardener's heart, which beat with angry haste. Then, it began to slow, and the furious reddish glare of her eyes softened to a bluish haze of pity. The Gardener listened to the Worm's cries, felt its wounds inflicted by her ravenous siblings, heard the endless roars of her perpetually empty belly.

Please!, the worm cried, I am so hungry and cold! I do not like it! Please!

The Gardener was quiet. She heard the cries of her children from past planets this Worm had visited, knew that she had devoured just a greedily as the rest of her vermin brethren. But...the Gardener knew the Darkness, for she had once been lost in it as well. The feeling of the amulet resting atop her bosom was a solemn reminder of that. So, the Gardener reached into her wicker basket and brought out a spoonful of a sweet nectar.

Eat, she told the Worm in her hand.

The Worm hesitated, but her hunger was too great. She wriggled towards the edge of the palm and dipped her head into the nectar and drank deeply. Soon, the spoon was empty, but it was quickly refilled and offered again. The Worm drank some more. After many spoonfuls, the Worm could take no more and lay panting. Suddenly, she was full; a feeling she had never felt before. The hunger was gone. It was a moment of pure bliss and tears of relief flowed from the Worm's thankful eyes. The Gardener watched the Worm for a moment.

Then, she slowly wrapped her fingers around the Worm, trapping it in a fist. Silence. Then, Light poured out from between her fingers in a brilliant glow. And when she opened her hand again, the Worm still lay there, glowing in a new, luminous body. The Worm was warm with Light. Never again would she be hungry and cold. Elated, the Worm wriggled towards one of the Gardener's fingers and wrapped around it as tightly as she could.

I am so warm and full. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

The Gardener smiled, a new love filling her heart. She lifted the Worm to her lips and offered a gentle kiss. For the first time in her long, miserable life, the Worm felt loved. The Gardener placed her new child onto her bosom. The Worm nestled there, cradling herself against the softest, warmest surface she had ever felt, listening to the heart deep within. The sound had filled her with dark dread before. Now it brought bright hope.

The Worm was brought to the Gardener's home, a wondrous place of Light and endless blooming, green life. She was lowered to the healthy soil of the ground and burrowed into her now home. Up above, the Gardener began to sing a happy melody. Everything in this new world, this sprawling valley, reacted, from the tallest tree to the smallest speck of dirt. All sang with the Gardener.

The Worm had found forgiveness. And she was happy.