The Fiction and Poetry of Jason Thibeault

In The Beginning

In the beginning, there was only Yune. He had no memory of the before, only his existence, only his knowledge that he existed. There was no sense of time, no passing of moments, no memories or recollections. And so Yune felt sad. He could not tell how long he had felt that way, only that a great sadness weighed upon him for he could not discern or feel anything else. There was only him. And so out of this sadness, Yune created his first children: the Inferi.

Shapeless and formless, these children were simply manifestations of feeling. Bowveia-sil-wash represented Yune’s sexuality and carnal desires. Eagoshz-ankt-ger was Yune’s want to build with his hands, to create. Granuwizt-ou-saalhud epitomized Yune’s anger at being left alone in the darkness. Xacheng-fa-lesh was Yune’s deepest, darkest corruption. Ouechept-twil-show was the animal in Yune and all of his basest instincts. Traequcei-nifg-pero represented Yune’s inquisitiveness and his desires to know and learn. Frandesu-tah-quilz was Yune’s freedom, his desire to have no substance and no form. And finally, Daulfipcen-bon-afko was Yune’s caring and nurturing. They surrounded him in the void like children around a father’s legs in front of a fire on a cold winter’s night. They frolicked and argued and fought and hugged just like any children although they were ageless and had no sense of when they began their existence. Still, Yune was filled with happiness, his sadness replaced with joy.

With his children now in the void with him, Yune no longer felt alone. But he was still restless. Bringing his First Children into being gave Yune a taste of creation. He soon realized that although his reluctance to be alone fueled his desire to create, it was also boredom that had driven him to weave life out of the magic that filled him. Soon, even surrounded by his First Children, he felt the boredom again. His fingers and heart itched to weave magic again, to do something that would give meaning to his existence as he realized creating his First Children had done. So he breathed into those children some of his magic, the primal magic of all existence, the threads of life that embodied the ability to create. And with that magic, he gave them a command: to create a world, to fill it with things; to create a solidness upon which those things could stand and move, to create other substances where those things did not stand but moved within with grace and substance, to paint it with so many colors as to beguile the mind, to make it smell, and shiver, and burn, and comfort. So his children left the safety of their father’s comfort and flew out into the void, empowered with the magic from their father, the same magic that brought them into existence, and did their father’s bidding.

For what may have been an eternity or a few days or just seconds, the First Children wove their magics, each of them adding that part of Yune which they represented, until the world was born. And when Yune gazed upon it for the first time, he was filled with such wonder and love for his children that a breath escaped him, a single word that whispered in the trees, weaved through the clouds, wandered in the valleys and crags and mountains, filling every open space and sinking into the very rocks themselves.

It was Ear-du-roth.