Creative Writing: The Coldness Of The Void

The coldness of the void crept into my body. A constant, throbbing pain that I couldn’t escape. I hated that pain. In order to warm myself, I cowered into the grey, soulless rock below me, squishing my body flatter than a pancake. The coldness of the rock stung me, the gritty stones digging into my flesh. The rock just made me feel colder. A cold that dug into me, more than just a physical cold. All I had around me was barren rock as far as I could see. I felt isolated out here, more alone than I have ever felt before in my life.
I cast my eyes upward. Fixated in the black soulless sky, sitting perfectly still almost as if it was painted on, was a blue circle. I knew that place. Or rather, I knew of it. Thinking about it, speaking of it, filled me with bitterness. Imagining those expansive blue skies made me feel small and

After a long time I was able to pull myself back together, regaining consciousness. I looked around myself in wonder. At the time everything I was seeing and experiencing was brand new. I was frustrated to find that this place was piercingly cold, grey, and lonely. Everyday I would gaze up at the sphere and curse it. Everyday, in some sort of preparation, I expanded my body. I absorbed surrounding rock into my gel matrix, allowing me to balloon to massive proportions. I had no concrete reference frame, but I knew I had grown significantly.
From that day on, I gazed up at the blue sphere, blaming all my suffering on it. Everyday my hatred for it grew in leaps and bounds from the day before. Finally, one day I was sick of the cold. I was sick of how grey and boring the ground was, how dark the sky was, and how much the sphere seemed to mock my from its throne high above. That day, something snapped in me. I knew I had reached critical mass, and was ready to exact the revenge I had been waiting for all this time. I didn’t know what would happen, but I knew I had to focus all my energy into