I was a God once! [LawLu Week 2022 Day 6]

LawLu Week 2022 Day-6

Theme: Will of D. / Gods.

Chosen: Gods.

I was a god once; no one believes it when I tell them now. I had tall shrines, devout followers and piles of offerings. My first shrine was made in the hollow of a tree. It was a little boy who had built it; he had killed a wild boar with a stone, that blood covered stone was my first form. He, along with his mates, he concluded the stone was a miracle. A notorious boar had rampaged around his village for months, destroying their crops and killing three elderly. The boy at the stupid age of 12 had taken matters in his own hand and ventured into the forest after his brothers and grandfather had returned injured. He had no skills and zero sense of self-preservation. With bow and arrows slung on his back, two long knives tied on thin his waist and a spear in his hand; he marched out of home at break of dawn. While his mother and father were busy nursing the injured and grandmother brewed the medicinal soup, he sneaked out.

His three friends joined him, all way below the age of maturity, dressed in gears borrowed from their family members; they walked out quietly and met at the edge of the village. They were done with the methods of the adults, they were going to kill the boar and end its tyranny. After an excruciating hike through the humid mountains, battered and bruised by the stinging plants and blood sucking insects, they had found the boar. Bigger than they had hoped and scarier than the image they dreamt, it stood still and waited for four idiots to charge at it. The leader, the boy who made my shrine, was the smallest, his taller friends charged first at his command. In the blink of an eye, the tallest boy with green hair was tossed away. The other two boys were flung away, the curly head hit the tree that would become my first home, and the golden hair one fell into a puddle of three-day old rain water full of larva. The green haired boy charged again and was again thrown back and somehow managed to land on the grass.

The boy seeing the conditions of his friends should've retreated but, he did not. He threw his spear at the boar to distract it and ran fast, and slid under the boar and cut its legs. He was a child and the boar an adult, the cut was not deep enough to maim it, but it was painful enough to enrage it. So the boar hissed and cried and kicked its hind legs and ran around in anger. With fuming anger, it aimed at the child who was fainted at the bottom of the tree. The boy saw what the boar was up to, he didn't stop, he pulled his arrows and began shooting at the boar. His marksmanship was beneath average, and all the arrows flew away in directions the boar had no intention to go. The other two morons lunged at the boar with their knives and swords and grazed a side of the shoulder and back, but it was just not enough to tame the tyrant. The boar shook them off his back like dead leaves stuck on a dried branch in winter. The leader yelled and ran and slid underneath the boar, this time he pierced his belly with the kitchen knife. The boar was unresponsive to the stab, but the boy didn't stop, with his other hand he used the chopping knife to hack at its legs. The boar finally understood the pain inflicted on him, understanding death was near, it decided to take its killer with him. The bleeding boar deliberately collapsed on the hands holding the knives, his big belly engulfed them and crushed the small boy beneath him. Unable to use his weapons, the boy struggled for breath.

That's when I come into the story, I was still not a god then, I was a fleeting bundle of collective consciousness; a collection of hopes, memories and desires of humans, animals, birds, plants, rivers and the mountains, I was born of their desire to live. I would wander formless like the wind and try to help an injured animal, stop a fish from jumping out of the river and losing its school, I would subdue a tiny fire that lingered after a night of camping. Then the boy prayed, he gritted his teeth, I was fluttering around, looking for a means to help him, and then I saw the stone. It was a palm sized boulder of uneven shape. I rolled it with all my might, and he stretched out the bloody hand and caught it. After that, the boar's head was left pulverized like mochi, except for the two curved teeth that were salvaged. His friends retrieved the fainted boy first, splashed him with the dirty larva crawling water. After a few moments, he sat up crying and screaming on how he was never ever going to go on a hunt again.