Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on January 23, 2014 0 Comments


creation photo: creation Blake_creation.jpg

In the beginning was the word, and it was quite a naughty word. Before that word there had been no such thing as swearing or cursing, and then that word came along and there was nothing but ill-temper and Anglo-Saxon expletives for the rest of for-ever, and possibly well beyond it.

To start with the Universe was a boring place. No light, no shape, no form, nothing for the Speaker to play with or observe or manipulate in any way. Something had to be done, something really big, and that needed a Word. Everything that happened needed a Word. It was the way of things. It was what shaped creation, not just in the Speaker’s neighbourhood, but everywhere.

Words were the stuff of being!

The Speaker thought about it.

He scratched his head and contemplated this and that, the shape things might have, their colours, the nature of light, the weariness of monotones, and he hit upon exactly the right Word.

No dazzling, eye-scorching brilliance, but something subtle, something he could live with, something he could croon over.

He wanted Night.

Night would imply shades and shape somewhere, without being too dogmatic about what they were. They would morph into each other, would the shades and shapes, they would be harmonious. He might even grow to love them in the way Speakers can love things. Night would present his artistic eye with something to wash over, would provide his pleasing baritone with a note to sing.

But the Speaker had one disability. He’d always had it, since the dreadful Beginning.

The Speaker had a stammer. Not a dreadful, disabling stammer but a stammer none-the less.

And when he tried to say, in his glorious, rich and well-oiled voice LET THERE BE NIGHT the sentence came out all wrong and the very last word, the one that should have moulded all of creation with the sweetness of nocturnal slumber, came out as LIGHT. He couldn’t stop it. It was. It had to be.

L-L-LET THERE BE LIGHT…” echoed round the void.

And the Speaker saw the light.

Bugger!” he said.

It was swearing, and it went on and on for ever.

©Peter Rogerson 23.01.13



About the Author ()

I am a 68 year old male happily married to his lovely wife Dorothy. We enjoy the simpler things in life together. I also gain a great deal of inner peace by expressing my sometimes wacky thoughts as blogs. I also enjoy writing poetry, sometimes concernin

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