The Rising

Ffin woke to the warmth of Muffy beside him, their small, rounded forms nestled close in the comforting darkness. They lay snugly surrounded by the soft walls that cradled them, content in a quiet companionship that needed no words. Ffin blinked his crumb-speckled eyes, squinting into the soft, deep blackness that enveloped them. The silence was complete, wrapping them like a gentle blanket. There was something almost sacred about this stillness.

“Muffy?” he whispered, voice barely audible, almost afraid to break the silence.

There was no reply, of course. Muffy never answered; Ffin knew that well. His companion had always been quiet, a steadfast presence beside him, but one that never spoke. Still, Ffin felt a glint of affection rise, softening his initial worry. Muffy’s silence wasn’t new—it was part of who he was, and Ffin had long come to cherish that silent resilience. Muffy had never uttered a single word since they were created, shaped side by side by the warm, strong hands of their maker.

“Do you ever wonder…” Ffin began softly, his words drifting into the quiet space between them, “why we’re here? Why we were brought into existence?”

He waited, though he didn’t expect a response. It was enough just to voice his thoughts, to share them with Muffy. Silence greeted him as always, but Ffin didn’t mind; he continued anyway, pondering aloud to his silent friend. The thought was a comfort. “Our maker,” he murmured, reverently, “crafted us with such care. I can feel it. The loving hands that formed us, every fiber, every curve…”

A pause hung in the air, thick with Ffin’s musings. He imagined their creator, the tender attentiveness in each touch, as though they were being sculpted with purpose. Ffin had often thought about those hands, the steady, skilled fingers that had shaped him and Muffy so meticulously. Every aspect of their form spoke of intention, of an unseen purpose.

Just as Ffin settled into the warmth of these comforting thoughts, something changed. Quite suddenly, the darkness around them began to shift, as if stirring from its own slumber. Ffin’s small form tensed, and a feeling of anticipation rose within him. There was a faint hum, a tremor that reverberated through their soft resting place. Then, as if in answer to an invisible signal, a light blinked to life above them.

The sudden illumination cast an intense glow over their sheltered world, a blinding, brilliant radiance that seemed to consume every shadow. Ffin gasped, his body quivering in response to the new, powerful presence of the light. The warmth he had once known now transformed into something more intense, more potent. Heat radiated down upon them from the gaping mouth that yawned wide before them, the very walls of their chamber radiating with a fierce, almost scorching energy.

“Look, Muffy,” Ffin whispered, his voice trembling with awe. “Do you think… could it be? The ascension?”

The word itself sent a thrill through him. Ffin had heard it whispered in the quiet corners of his mind, like a secret passed down through crumbly thoughts woven into his being. “We are meant to rise,” those tiny voices had promised. “We will be taken up, glorified, given purpose.”

As he looked into the yawning mouth of light, that promise seemed tantalizingly close. The strange, scorching air that filled the small chamber wrapped around them like a thick, invisible blanket, pressing down upon them, warming them from within. Ffin felt himself tingling, a sensation that went beyond mere warmth, stirring something deep inside him. “It must be the rapture,” he whispered, staring into the brightness with wide, hopeful eyes. “Our time has come, Muffy! We’re being lifted up!”

Muffy, as always, remained silent. But Ffin imagined his friend shared his excitement, his hope. They had waited together for this moment, side by side, and now their time had arrived. The warmth continued to grow, hotter and fiercer, enveloping them both in its embrace. Ffin felt an odd sensation, a kind of expansion within himself, as though he were stretching, swelling from the inside. The heat seemed to push him outward, molding and shaping him anew, and Ffin could only gasp in wonder.

“I can feel myself… transforming!” he cried, his voice filled with ecstasy. “This must be our destiny, Muffy. We are becoming more — our maker will be so pleased!”

The heat grew more intense, consuming every last thought within Ffin’s mind. He felt his edges begin to crisp, an odd sensation, but one that didn’t bring pain. Instead, it was a feeling of liberation, as though he were being refined, perfected in the embrace of the fire. His spirit lifted with joy, reaching towards the light with a sense of fulfillment that was impossible to contain. Everything around him faded into a blur of warmth and light as his consciousness slipped away, leaving behind only the comforting certainty that he had fulfilled his purpose.

Much later, a different kind of light, softer and gentler, illuminated their chamber in a calm, serene glow. Something cool lies beneath him, a contrast to the intense heat they had known before. A hand — large, warm, and unmistakably human — reached down, carefully lifting him and Muffy out of the chamber. The hand shifted, tilting him ever so slightly, his top was perfectly browned, a beautiful golden hue beneath. Ffin was complete.

“Muffins are done,” said a voice, filled with satisfaction and delight. Ffin and Muffy were then placed on the cooling rack, two silent, perfectly risen muffins, resting side by side.