“In The Beginning” supposes there was a beginning, was, but supposing there was not?
Picture this: the universe has no beginning, no end, just this and this and this. A mirror shown another mirror, reflecting back and forth ad infinitum, each reflection the same but further, made up but real, not existing but yes: existing.
Mirror upon mirror slightly changing, magnifying, further removing from our comprehension, what is going on.
Not understanding, man explains: mystification at fire is reflected back in stories of godlike men living on mountains, ideas real enough to be reflected back into versions of manlike gods in a giant hall, controlling thunder remotely and dining with the deserving dead. From there the picture gets more remote: one God living in another dimension, all powerful; then, reflected back is now a universe in which that God is all powerful and can be three
When the mirror shines back, what will be seen? What lies farther away but on the same surface as God-Made-Three? A force, perhaps? Powerful: it can annihilate matter. More inscrutable than what came before: it does not think, does not have compassion, cannot be detected?
And after that? There is no end. No end means no beginning, means eyes which stare into a fire 1,000,000 years ago someday gaze into the majesty of things we cannot even begin to imagine, and those things will be a pale shadow of gods a billion years from now, and so on back and forth ad infinitum.
In 250=1, I write stories that are exactly 250 words long, including the title. This one got its title because it was actually the fourth story I wrote about the beginning (or lack thereof) of the universe. The others, along with links to every other 250-word story I've ever written (THERE ARE 38 OF THEM WOW!) are right here.