Blooming Idolatry

Sticky Candy

I wanted to stay dead.

All I wanted was to stay dead. Eons of dealing with humans and their messy dramas with the other gods. The gods who poked fun at me for my mismatched band of followers. The nomads, druids, sons, and daughters of martyrs who chose to give their loyalty to me.

I had failed them.

As the last one died, so did my soul slumber. True death evaded me as gods can never truly die. I was as close to it as one could hope. The darkness of sleep, with only a dream here or there when the mortals mentioned my name. Nekane. A teacher explaining my history, one that dates back before the Dawn of Humans, would speak my name and my heart would beat with joy. Only to be crushed as no one would dare make deals with the god of broken hopes and revenge.

I woke up tasting sweaty palms and too-sweet fruit.  The child's eyes widened in fear as I stared at them from the dark. My glowing orbs no doubt reminded them of the yellow eyes of a cat. My animals were known as omens of good luck when I created them to spread my misery as quickly as they reproduced.

I rose from behind the dusty altar. With a glance, I noticed the colorful candy the child had left for me. The wobble in her lip let me know she was lost. Probably from a field trip as they usually like to view my altar when they visited the museum. It was educational for young humans. In a world where the gods couldn't be trusted, the humans began teaching the children to be afraid of us. Smart creatures.

I took the tiny human's sticky hand.

"Come, lost child. Let's find you teacher." I guided her back through the museum. We took a right turn down the path where the teacher's voices faded and ran into her class. Or I might have accidentally pulled the tiny human into the back of another tiny human. The other child couldn't see me. The anger on her face towards my tiny human made me consider what little morals I had.

If I smite a child, would that make me a villain? The reigning answer was yes when all the gods banished my brother.

I whispered in the ear of my tiny human. With a pointed look, she listened.

"Nekane says to stop being a bully or she'll curse you with boils." The tiny male then shoved my tiny human. I'm going to name her Enna. For the look of fear on the tiny male's face when pus-filled lesions crept up his arms, and down his back. Sweet music followed.

Enna turned to hug me. I placed a gentle hand on her forehead to stop her.

"Don't push your luck, my Enna."

"My name's not Enna." Her bottom lip stuck out in what I'm coming to realize is her favorite expression.

"You're my Enna. Live with it. Gods don't listen to tiny humans who can't even blow their own noses."

I rolled my eyes at her tears. This human was stupid.