A/N And yesss I have access back to my main account. This story was posted for a little while on my spare account, but I am switching it here. Basically this is going to be my NaNoWriMo entry this year. I have debated long whether I wanted to participate or not, but this idea kind of hit me over the head so I decided what the heck, it's the perfect opportunity. It's my first Good Omens story ( although I adore the book and radio drama, I never tried my hand at GO fanfiction before. )
Warning: Contains somewhat controversial views and retellings of biblical events. Controversial not as much in leaning towards blasphemous at in leaning towards my own headcanons and loose interpretations. Starting with the very Beginning. If they are not your cup of tea, I recommend you steer clear of this story.
Disclaimer: Yeah, definitely not mine! Hats bowed to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett for the complete and utter awesomeness that is Good Omens.
Prologue: A whisper at the very Beginning
Everything is arrested in motion, caught in a state of utter stillness, frozen in time for a fragment of a moment, smaller than mere mortal minds could have ever perceived. A moment, stone-like stillness taking over the planet as a hand waves over all of Creation and blows gently over it. And then time starts its unending march again…
It starts with silence. Incredulity, wide eyes gazing at the surroundings – not destroyed, not charred and burned, not the wasteland that was supposed to have been, but rather green, lush grass and blooming flowers even in the middle of the cold season, a cat darting across a lawn and the chirp of birds in trees.
It starts with a deep breath following the silence, the quirk of a smile and cerulean eyes, blue like the sky above their heads that is no longer stained by a red sun, gazing in yellow orbs, with the blistering hope and faith only one from Above can have.
It starts with a laugh, shy, muted at first, chocked as if trying to keep it in check, but becoming louder and louder, as the rumble burst from within his throat and echoed in the stillness of their surroundings. The laughter of genuine happiness, not sarcasm or irony, not the laughter that had stained their last days when they had done so in order to keep the tattered remains of their shattered hope together.
It starts with life bursting from the very being of the Planet, with the giggles of children running down the streets and the promise of an upcoming Dusk, followed by a new Dawn. It starts with old people berating the youth for their unruliness, with a tea kettle starting to whistle on the stove, with a leaf blown in the wind and the echo of gentle laughter in the air.
It starts with hope and the mark of another Day, and another and another…
Or perhaps it Ends so. Who is it to say?
Is it an End or merely a new Beginning?
It is up to you to decide…
After all, stories are always more than they seem and the Beginning and the End are not as easy to define as many would have expected them to be.
But if this should be the End or the start of a new Beginning, then when did this story start to unfold?
Sense dictates that it should have begun, like all good stories are wont to do, at the beginning.
However, our tale starts long before the mere whisper of a Beginning could be formed.
Before the thought of an End could even be uttered.
It starts in darkness, oppressive and unending, with a presence lingering in the silence. It starts with a question voiced, or perhaps only thought, for no sound had ever before been heard in our tale.
"Has it come? The moment?" And the presence, grand yet terrible, allowed its thought to echo, bringing forth the promise of a night that had yet to fall, of the chime of stars still lingering unlit and the hoot of an owl that had not been whispered into being.
"It has come." Yet another, just as grand, yet merciful where the other was terrible. A perfect opposite, or the other side of a coin, warmth to the first's cold and brilliance to counter the lingering dark. An adversary and a counterpart. The hint of suns bursting in the skies, of light shimmering in unopened eyes, of worlds yet to be born.
"They will fear. They will cry. They will rage. They will suffer." The thoughts of the first, tendrils of malice wrapped in words, long before such notions were even thought to be defined. A promise of anguish and pain, given with the surety of one that knows what is to come. A hint of the future at the burst of an upcoming dawn. "They will hate."
"So they will," a murmur from the second, the first hint of a sound breaching the encompassing darkness, glimmers bursting around them as specks of light came to be spread. "But they will also laugh. They will cherish. They will show mercy." The same resolution, the same knowledge, an ancient voice, with no Beginning and no End, bringing worlds into being with the boom of his words. "They will love."
And so they stood, darkness and light entwined, good and evil as some will later come to call them, though matters had never been so simple, watching the echo of their Thoughts moving into Being, bringing the Beginning with their words and prophesying the End with their following Silence.
Good and evil. Light and Dark. God and His Adversary. Watching the worlds come into being, steadfast Presences in the Ages to come.
And so our story begins. With the Light bursting through the Darkness and the Swirl of Creation shaping all that IS and all that ever could BE.