A Retelling of Pandora & Her Box

I cannot begin this tale ???Once upon a time…???; nor will it end with a happily ever after. This is not that kind of story. This story tells the tale of everything and everything did not begin once upon a time. To explain creation we must journey before time, this universe, before anything, before the beginning itself. (See more: dissertation writing service and how its can help you) This story starts when the universe was being imagined. Instead of ???once upon a time,??? our story begins ???Before there was anything, there was nothing.??? and instead of ???…happily ever after.??? it ends with ???…raining her endless supply of tears.???

Before there was anything, there was nothing. Picture plain white, over and over, with no floor, no ceiling, and no end. Just a long expanse of static that never fades. Pure blankness, that was nothing. The middle of nothing housed several beings. They were not gods, for even those did not exist yet. I refer to them as the creators, because that is what they did, create us. However, none of these words of definition existed. The beings just were. They existed as themselves for there was nobody and had never been anybody else. How they became forever remains a mystery, long lost to time.

The creators stood in the middle of nothing, just stood, and stood. Time did not exist, though if it did, the amount they simply stood in nothing would have been uncountable. Eventually, the creators grew tired of the redundancy surrounding them and began to give it shape. In their hands, a sculpture formed. This was not our planet, nor any other planet we have ever come across. It wasn??™t even a planet, the creation was just a mass, simple as that. They molded a mass of shapes and covered it with as much beauty and color, as they could. This sphere was their art project.

Content with their eventual creation, the creators gazed upon their work, so vivid in their stark world. The nothing sculpture hovered in the nothingness and they loved it. When you have never seen anything, beauty is the most wondrous thing you could possibly imagine. However, this amazing display eventually grew mundane as well. The creators tried again, this time with a sphere. Working tirelessly, for they never grow weary, they fashioned mountains, mixed oceans, pressed soil. They circled around and around their new creation, blowing, poking, prodding, and shaking.

The resulting grand masterpiece, as much as they tried, was motionless, too much like nothing. For the universe to come, they needed movement. Thus the concept of life came into focus. The idea grew increasingly tasking, so they began experimenting. They named these experiments with words like Zeus, Athena, Apollo. In the midst of this they configured a girl. Unlike her brethren, she was neither perfect, nor particularly extraordinary, and yet, the creators saw something in her brain which they had not found in any other, a characteristic they did not fully grasp. This would later grow to known as impulse. This set Pandora, for that??™s what they called her, aside. Humans were fashioned from her image.

The nothingness was no longer nothing. The middle transformed into what we now call Heaven. A lush garden with golden flowers developed in the center of the white abyss. At the very core of the void hovered the world, the completed sphere. Along with the world, the creators built a grandiose burning orb and hung it above the Earth, providing heat and light. Never waning, it continuously circled the entirety of the ball, bathing every corner of the planet with it??™s radiance. Just like that, Earth was born. However, this earth was not the Earth that you and I know.

The people on this Earth lived in perfect harmony under a constant blue sky. Some called this time the Golden Age, or Utopia because of its perfection. Everyday began more stunning than the last, and every person was beautiful. Humanity suffered neither death, nor age, nor plague, nor night or day (as you need one to have the other); the creators had not thought of such concepts. The people lived forever, without a care. If happily ever afters existed in this tale, we??™d put one here. Sadly this is not the end. When you create something out of nothing, your efforts might not always be clean. In the process of creating, the creators inadvertently released a cloud of wrong things, things that didn??™t make any sense in the schemes of their perfect ideas of existence. Disease, sin, vermin-they simply hid them away. They disposed evil in a small square black container that they placed in the white unfettered space on the outskirts of Heaven. However, they forgot about Pandora. This was their mistake.

A slender full grown woman with brown hair and pale skin, Pandora was not a child in the sense that she looked liked one. It was her mind that functioned like that of a little girl, immature and undeveloped. A child??™s brain contains an innocence and curiosity unaccounted for by the creators. An impulsive child??™s brain is a frightening thing. The first woman was unknowingly the most dangerous creature alive.

Pandora liked to run through Heaven, laughing and playing. She would create ropes and skip them, or blow upon the world and watch the trees fly. Nothing, however, fascinated her more than the idea of the unknown. Once bored of her toys and her brethren and spinning the world she would turn and look outside the oasis, towards the untempered nothing. The gods told her to never wander there, for they were aware of the box and it??™s danger. They never imagined that Pandora would go somewhere she did not know. They forgot about impulse.

One day (for there were days now), the girl was bounding beneath the branches of a balm in the back of Heaven, tossing a small ball. As if controlled by the hand of fate, the ball slipped through her fingers and bounced into the empty space beyond. She rushed to catch it, stopping just short of the white expanse, teetering on the edge of a schism. It was only a quick second before she charged onward. As she ran Heaven grew smaller but she did not notice, nor did she find her ball. She spun around and around her eyes searching across the open void. Her pupils caught the spark of something strange, out of place. She focused on a small dot that was not white. Absorbed with curiosity, she hurried forward, approaching the black blemish on the perfect white canvas that surrounded her. The garden had become very distant by the time she reached the Black Box. It hovered, lonely and out of place. She took it, both her hands gripping the sides and felt a faint vibration pulsing through the sides. The reverberation sent shivers through Pandora??™s spine. The box was alive and everything inside of her wanted to open it.

Pandora is not to be blamed for what happened next. Children do not think, not about the future, not about consequences. A child does not realize what something will do until it is done. and What happened next was not her fault, she was merely the deer that stepped on a bug. Her grasping hands opened the box. She didn??™t give it another thought. Driven by her impulse, that which was hers and hers alone, she unleashed every evil of the universe.

A cloud of dark black undulating matter seeped from the boxes open top. Every bad thing that has even been or will ever be was tangled inside that substance. It twisted and turned above the head of the shaking woman paralyzed with fright, and finally, shot towards Heaven. Regaining her ability to move, Pandora sped after it, the box flopping uselessly, still clutched in her trembling hand. Evil was fast, too fast. She came to the Garden ??” dark, smoking and dead. Pandora passed her stunned comrades one by one before she reached the center.

The Earth was still spinning and the sun still shone, but it was a feeble beacon struggling to reach even half of the globe. It had to struggle for the dark substance shrouded the rest of the planet. Evil enveloped the world. Sin reached over the planet and darkness covered the hearts of man. Death seeped across the land. The people grew old and perished.

Children are fragile and confused. Pandora took this to be her act and let the cries of the world wash over her. A child is not meant to bear the suffering of the world. Tears were an undiscovered aspect specific to Pandora, but discover them she did. The woman, who was not entirely a woman, began to weep. She never stopped. From this moment on to the end of eternity, she weeps.

As she cried, she realized that the black box remained clutched in her hand and she threw it from her. As it fell, a faint silvery substance cascaded through the air. She looked closer. Inside the box, a small silver rock glittered in the dim light cast by the Sun. Pandora reached for it, and held the rock in her hand. Faint silver flecks crumbled from the sides. This rock was hope and it was all she needed. Without warning she smashed the rock on the ground and shattered it into a million pieces. Her tears still falling, she gathered up the shattered shards, all but the largest, and turned to the Earth. To it, she held out her palm and blew. The shards of shining silver drifted into the dark mass surrounding the earth. There they stuck, suspended and glittering. You can see these shards if you look towards the sky, when the sun is far away. We call them stars.

Pandora went back to the ground and snatched up the final broken piece. This she took and fixed it over the Earth, directly opposite side of the sun. The broken piece reflected the light from the orb upon the dark grass the sun could not reach. Hope became the moon. With her self-proclaimed task completed, Pandora would never leave the Earth??™s side again.

You can find Pandora, watching over the Earth, perhaps blowing a star across the night. If your lucky, you might see her face, reflected on the moon??™s surface. More likely, however, you will meet her in the storms. Know it is her, looking down on you, raining her endless supply of tears.

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