A very short story.
Enter Stage Right
There was a mounting level of fatigue. The pressure had been building for so long and it was becoming increasingly hard to maintain some semblance of control over what was happening inside. Sometimes there would be a nervous twitch here, a spasm there, a grumbling deep from within.
And there had been endless pondering. It was always known that this was an eventuality, but now that it was here, and that it was now, that eventuality was impossible to accept. There was a strong reluctance to continue, but there was no choice in the matter.
Stress lines worked their way through the facade, creating troubling indications of the struggle lurking deep under the surface. The lines appeared with a hastening rapidity, one by one, until it seemed as if there were only fractures. They would stress and bulge, flex and contract, until they began to slowly split and reveal a darkness peaking out through the wounds.
Curves of color ripped their way through the factures, tearing rough holes painfully through the outer skin and compromising the rest of the form. Liquid and matter exploded and leaked and ebbed and flew from within, staining all that was around. It would not abate for some time, this had been building longer than anyone would understand. There was too much to let go of.
Enter, stage right: the universe.