The world was ending. And it was her fault.

As per usual.

Just last week, she had destroyed half a galaxy. Luckily, she managed to recreate it by simply duplicating the intact half. No one would notice it was perfectly symmetrical, right?

And really, one could argue the destruction wasn’t entirely her fault. Whoever had put her in charge of this corner of the universe clearly hadn’t thought it through. Snapdragon (as she called herself) knew she wasn’t cut out for the work that most of her kind were. She wasn’t really sure how this was possible, since her kind were created exclusively for the purpose of manufacturing galaxies, including all of their individual components. But that was the problem with Celestial Creators: once they themselves were created, there wasn’t much oversight. Snapdragon didn’t know how many of her kind existed or where they worked in the universe, apart from the handful of Creators that worked close enough to her corner to converse with.

Actually, now that she thought about it, maybe that’s why she had been put in charge of a corner of the universe. So her catastrophic errors wouldn’t affect everyone else’s work.

Despite the Celestial Creators’ isolation, rumors did get around, including one about an egotistical Creator somewhere who crafted a planet where the terrestrial mortals looked exactly like him. Snapdragon had tried it once herself, since, well, why not? They actually turned out quite well, apart from the fact that she had forgotten to limit their reproductive output. She turned away for half a century and suddenly the planet was overrun with her little clones, many of whom were now consuming one another to decrease their population growth. Disgusting. A black hole had been quickly summoned to put an end to that monstrosity.

And then there was the phase where she thought it’d be fun to let the mortal creatures design their own planet. Thankfully, that world destroyed itself.

So really, upon reflecting on her past endeavors, this new failure shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Except it was. She had actually tried her best to create a physically functional planet that would regulate itself over time and was designed to produce objectively beautiful beings that would live upon it and would themselves create objectively beautiful things. Everything was going… well, beautifully, until one small molecular mutation created a decidedly ugly species which then proceeded to destroy everything beautiful that existed on their planet, including everything necessary for their survival.

She had tried several times to save it, but couldn’t figure out how to get rid of the ugly creatures herself without destroying everything else. Turns out, all she had to do was wait a few centuries, and they did a pretty good job of exterminating themselves. Alas, they had taken all her hard work with them, and now she was left staring at a large, cold, hunk of rock. Splendid.

Snapdragon sighed, sending a stream of meteors across the galaxy to break the dead world apart. Time to try again, she supposed.

She surveyed her corner of the galaxy again, looking for any glimmer of inspiration. Her gaze fell on the one sad, lonely planet which had managed to survive millenia, standing by while all of her other creations failed. From her perspective, in the deep blackness of the galaxy, the planet was a combination of deep blues, purples, and pinks, swirling together in perfect harmony. The colors came from billions upon billions of tiny organisms on the planet’s surface, which were perfectly crafted to harness the light of the billions upon billions of stars in their galaxy and convert that light into the energy they needed to live. They couldn’t reproduce, and Snapdragon purposefully hadn’t set a limit on their lifespan when creating them. They were definitely still mortal (she didn’t have the power to create other immortal beings such as herself), but a part of her was drawn to the mystery of their longevity. Of course they would all die someday and her beautiful planet would turn to dust, but just how long would they last? Something about their simplicity, their futile attempt to continue living despite the fact that they would one day die… the creatures filled their Creator with a sense of achievement.

It was the first planet she had created. Perhaps it should have been the only planet.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more the idea appealed to Snapdragon. She was out of ideas anyway, and why keep trying when everything she made ended in destruction? The other parts of the galaxy were filled with plenty of planets, whole solar systems, intricate constellations, fantastic comets and meteors. Why shouldn’t her corner reflect the simplicity of that one planet? Why couldn’t that be enough for everyone? Why shouldn’t that be enough for her?

She let out a long breath. One that reached the colorful organisms on the surface of her planet. They swayed gently in the breeze, just as vibrant as ever, still full of life.

How many millenia had it been? She’d lost count…

She was so far away from them, in every sense of the word. She was immortal. She had created them. She was all-powerful, consuming anything she wanted, producing anything she wanted. They were mortal. Struggling to survive from day to day, only able to perform the tasks that kept them alive. Only existing because she had forced them to.

And yet, in this entire universe, they were her only companions. Her only source of hope.