There was a god afloat, alone, in a vast nothingness.
—To be frank with you, that godling really was quite alone. However, the vast nothingness that, that particular deity mistook for all of existence, was only a concentrated region of desert, which was within a larger region of desert, that is still rather small if we take a moment to consider the total surface area of the heavenly body that the region of desert-in-desert is on. You may know this heavenly body as the Earth. Anyway—
For some thousands of years that god stayed alone there, which in total to present is well over six-thousand years. (Note: This Godling's denizens like to refer to this god as "he" and "him"—so from here on out we will gender this neuter-gendered godling.)
So—Was this godling there in the desert before then? Was he there in some other form or awareness, prior to that time? I cannot say. He has not said. And his remaining brood are too preoccupied murdering and dominating each other and the planet to comment. I digress—
For six-thousand-ish years, that god remained there in that swath of desert, tucked seamlessly into a grander desert (that's still quite small as compared to its planetary host.) He was very alone and he was also very unaware of the tremendous movements rippling over the rest of this heavenly sphere we dwell on.
It was a time of millennial-scale events: on the magnetic tip of our sphere a new cap of ice was suddenly forming southerly, and northernly the ice was peeling away into gargantuan, violently slow, dredging titans of ice and rivulets of fresh water slutting it right up into the ocean. Yes, everywhere else on the sphere, lands and life were dying, and surviving, and all-in-all changing whether or not they wanted to.
Then something curious happened in that God's little corner of desert—a bird shat a seed (without his noticing yet quite near by to him.) Global air currents had shifted just such that a little moist air, just enough, happened through to quench the seed shat. And the seed sprang!
The god, by witnessing this little tendril of green, was quite moved to consciousness. For the first time he was not alone AND he noticed. AND He was into it. And OH!—did he garden… making little replications here and modifications there of the glorious little seeded plant and the lovely bacterium and fungus that tagged along upon the seed.
God got quite good at turning out members for his little assortment of photosynthetic and bacterial and fungal sundries. But somehow, in some unspecified way, he (for the first time since getting excited about that shatted-seed,) felt a new feeling—unsatisfied.
It was new, thoroughly unpleasant, and maddening for God to feel, for the first time, "unsatisfied" in this way—Thoroughly so! So on the sixth day of that godling's gardening he made something else, something new (well, it wasn't actually new, but because he'd been in that deseret-within-a-desert he had no way to realize that he was quite late in joining the zeitgeist of making hominids): he made a man.
After six days God made a little ecosystem of existence within his humble desert-within-a-desert. And then God made a little hominid man. Then he took a day off to rest. You know the story after that, right?
After that, the story of "God" goes on for a bit more about his garden and the making of people. Then, mostly, it goes on and on, for many chapters and many sequels, about the violent melodrama between that godling's perverted creations, as they went, running about, causing amok, and doing a lot of unpleasant murdering, and raping, and self loving, et cetera, et cetera...
And then there's the additional part where all those little peckers he made left the desert, a series of "prophets" rose and fell in the mix, and the rest of the world has been paying the price ever since. All of that, pretty much, catches us up to the present moment.
That "God" may have made you, but he didn't fucking make me.
And to you, who are descendant of that little godling's garden—heavens help us all—your kith have been an unending consumption and plague of things across this shared heavenly sphere on which we dwell and depend on. Your kith have destroyed His garden and so much more, and he has left you quite alone. So...
What will you do now, in the wake of your lineage?