Long before the great waters came, the world was alive with noise—of cities rising from dust, of men hammering stone into towers, and of revelry that echoed through the valleys like the howls of wolves. The earth had become full of mankind’s pride, and with it, violence. Cities swelled with greed and injustice, and the stars were forgotten, dimmed beneath the smoke of ceaseless indulgence.

In a quiet land to the east of Shinar, there lived a man named Noah.

He was not like the others. Where men schemed, Noah walked humbly. Where others sought power, Noah sought peace. He lived with his wife, and his three sons—Shem, Ham, and Japheth—and their wives. Their home was modest, the land surrounding it wide and green, fed by rivers that still flowed clear.

Noah had seen the change in the world. Once, travelers came speaking of the wonders of distant lands—of fruit-laden gardens and laughter in the markets. But as years passed, their words grew grim. They spoke of tyrants who declared themselves gods, of temples built for vanity, and of blood spilled for gold. Children grew cruel. Elders were ignored. The air itself seemed to groan under the weight of sin.

Noah’s heart was heavy.

He worked the land by day and prayed by night. Sometimes, he would look to the sky and wonder if it still remembered the songs of the stars, the ones he had heard as a child when the world was quieter.

One evening, as the moon hung like a silver tear, Noah heard a voice—not of men, but of the Divine.

“The end of all flesh is come before Me,” it said, “for the earth is filled with violence. Make for yourself an ark…”

At first, he did not understand. An ark? The skies were blue, the trees alive. But he obeyed. His sons gathered gopher wood, and their hands became calloused. Neighbors laughed. “Noah builds a ship in the hills!” they mocked. Children pointed. Merchants jeered.

But Noah kept building.

It took years. As he worked, he wept for the world—not for himself, but for those who had forgotten the sound of the wind through the trees and the joy of a kind word. Sometimes a traveler would stop and ask what he was doing. Noah would tell them. Some listened, but most turned away, scoffing.

Still, Noah welcomed every creature that came. Pairs of beasts, great and small, birds of color and song, slitherers, climbers, runners—all drawn as if summoned by the breath of Heaven. His family tended them as best they could, preparing grain, herbs, and water. It was a time of strange stillness before the coming storm.

Then the sky changed.

Clouds gathered thick like wool. The wind turned cold, and silence fell upon the earth as if the world were holding its breath.

Noah and his family entered the ark.

The door shut.

And for seven days, the world waited.

Then the heavens opened.

Story generated with ChatGPT also image created from openart.ai using Dalle 3