It’s a short story about a dog named Quinn. There’s some parts that I’m a bit displeased with but overall I quite like it so hopefully it’s a pleasant read for u too. Oh and I made it phone resolution so it fits so perfectly.
I’ll be finishing up the whole comic this month hopefully.
I’ve changed quite a few parts here and there from the original script, but heres what it looks like if you’re interested in reading!
A God is nothing without his creations.
But what are creations without their God?
Deity above, who bestowed the gift of thought—
What heavy kindness you have given.
Still we endure, forever,
beneath your reign of light.
A fetus in the womb, nurtured and fed by Father.
Years and years until he became just strong enough to live.
A pup came to be.
Arise, my dear child.
A name bestowed,
Quinn shall you be.
A long, beautiful life.
I shall promise to give.
Arise.
"Ugh... It's so bright..."
Quinn wakes up in a pond of water
"Where am I?"
Our world,
in which you shall reside.
"Oh, okay. Well, what do we do then?"
It's Quinn's favorite pastime with Father. Everyday of the week they come together, with stacks of books piled around them while Father teach. Quinn is quite the fast learner, as Father made him that way after all.
"You see, you can only make sense of yourself with time. Going through life is like going through a book, only once you've turned the final page can you understand it."
"But what if I've been given a bad book?"
"There are no good or bad books, it is and will only be just a book that you happened to read. And can you truly judge a work based solely on how a single chapter made you feel?"
"I guess not..."
Father adds.
"Life can be cruel, yes... but I could've made a world where nothing hurt."
"Then, why didn't you?"
"Because I feared a world that never changes. It's selfish of me... but a smile means little if there was never the option to choose otherwise."
Quinn stays silent with the thought.
On bright and beautiful mornings, Quinn would come out of the house and run around the hills, dig several holes in the mud. Father always had to clean up after his mess.
Quinn also likes snacking on the berries found in the forest, although once he got severely poisoned... But that never stopped him from eating those berries either way.
He loves chasing after falling leaves despite understanding gravity.
He could discuss philosophy, yet still wagged his tail whenever praised.
Although quite the handful, Quinn was still the brightest, smartest pup in the world. After all, his creator made him that way.
Quinn is currently working on his compendium of fruits that he had discovered over the years. It's not vast but Father could invest more hours in making a better world for their child to explore.
"Never too late to expand, after all.", he thought to himself.
So Father made several improvements, a bigger house, a bigger world. The fields now span across multiple acres. With more trees bearing fruits and never before seen animals to herd.
"Why did you make me, father?"
"This world used to be barren, and I began to feel quite lonesome."
"Do I make you feel, less lonesome?..."
"You're what makes my existence meaningful."
"Is mine meaningful?"
"Of course, Quinn. Why would you ask such a thing?"
"I'm glad I make you happy... But I don't feel I have my own purpose, is that bad?"
"No, no. These feelings of discomfort are a natural part of your life as you slowly figure them out. I made you smart after all."
"Why did you make me smart?"
"Because I wanted you to understand me."
"Why?"
"Because...", Father looks away.
"I wanted you to choose to love me."
"So... if I didn't?"
Father did not answer.
The room suddenly felt too small.
"Quinn.", Father said quietly, "Please, allow some space for me."
Before Quinn could respond, Father vanished.
Quinn still set an extra bowl at dinner.
At first, he expected Father back by sunset.
Then by summer.
Then by autumn.
Eventually, he stopped waiting near the door.
Though some nights, his tail still lifted at sounds that weren't there.
With more fields to attend to, with sheep to herd. With endless winters to survive and time passing faster and faster. Quinn has found himself quite exhausted, left immobile quietly in bed.
Quinn remembered a fable Father once told him.
A wagoner, stuck in the mud. He prayed for Hercules.
But God told him to lift the wheel himself.
“God helps those who help themselves,” Father had said.
Quinn wasn’t sure he believed in that story anymore.
"Why am I alive?", Quinn contemplates his life.
But a book can't be understood had he not read it thoroughly, could he? A scary thought suddenly passed through his head. "If Father can create anything at all. Am I really the first subject Father has ever made, or am I merely the countless iterations of myself that he had gone through?"
The thought followed Quinn everywhere. Into the fields. Into sleep. Into the silence Father kept leaving behind.
And even in bed, he couldn't help but spiral and spiral. After all, his creator made him that way.
Even though Quinn remembers what crying felt like, now he can't shed even a single tear. Is it sadness that he feels, perhaps anger, animosity, maybe even pity? Perhaps grief had worn too many faces to recognize anymore.
Day by day, the lands keep on expanding.
Day by day, the sea keeps on stretching.
This vast world made solely for his child.
But Father is nowhere to be found.
Quinn can no longer live within Father's confines, nor does he want to die.
"I have to see it through."
With jitters on his face, he picks up his essentials along with his notebook.
The sun still rises, as the door closed behind his back. He journeys into the vast mountains.
Away from Father's garden.
Tragedy or not. Never to return.
"He who climbs upon the highest mountains laughs at all tragedies, real or imaginary."