No Spark, the spirit that signifies the living and is dissipate with the dead. Time stopped because there was nothing to segment, nothing to connect that which would be segmented.
And it was fucking dull.
God rolled over in the darkness, and gave a great fart. This poofed the blanket of nothingness. An irritating, organic smell scraped out and sparked an idea, lighting up the darkness with a big bang. This caused greater friction, resulting in discussion, and artistic and scientific work, which created more spark.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2017)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (03/16/2017): In 99 words (no more, no less) go down the rabbit hole to a place where art is not allowed. It could be a small story or a dystopian vision. Is there a power struggle over art? Would the general public miss it? Is the end of art a natural evolution? Go where the prompt leads.