Hushed whispers filled the shadowy, high ceiling'd room. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shapes on the marble walls domed around the vast oaken table. A myriad of figures sat around the table, their voices distorted and offset by the constant ringing sound that pitched a shrill sting in every ear.
A man stood at the far end, his deep voice calling for silence. With one good eye, he peered across the assembly, his face contorted against the awful noise. When he spoke, his thick braided bread trembled below his chin.
"As you can see, it was not the Norse who began this!" With a flippant hand, he gestured to a young, fire-haired man who was freckled from head to toe; "Who dares to begin this without the approval of our collective?" His good eye gleamed as it darted around- from a tall, hawk-headed fellow to a willowy wisp of a woman with silver hair and a crescent circlet resting on her brow; from the coyote-ish form of a man cackling in his seat next to a hulking white buffalo to the so bright, consuming light that radiated off the skin of an darkly robed man, a python wrapped delicately around his wrist.
From across the table, a blue skinned woman stood, thrusting a finger toward the being of light and his python; "You!" She cried, "this must be the Horn of Gabriel!"
He hissed, cat-like, in response. Beside him, a dark, bearded man rose, in robes of white. "It is not." He spoke evenly, his dark eyes smoldering as he held her gaze.
"Enough of this!" A tan Greek called, those among his group crying for silence. He stepped up, onto the oak table, the wings on his sandals fluttered lightly against the dark grain. "Everyone is here! Can't you all see this is none of us?" There was a plea for peace in the depths of his topaz eyes.
Silence followed his voice. They were stunned. Suddenly, the fire-haired man stood up, crying into the wind- "Liar!"
The assembly was shocked. King of lies calling another so? The fear began to trickle through them like a slow rain; those standing became seated, the silence formed a hushed murmur and the man on the table sighed, his shoulder slouching.
It was at that moment of mixed fear and relief that the table pitched the side. Wails erupted from all ends, chairs screeched against the marble floor as the whole room began to upend it's self. Falling from their seat in infinity, all the gods of the world slowly began to rain through the sky, like a dance of shooting stars.
They blazed to the last, and then, without a whisper, became apart of the godless world.
And somewhere, quietly, a pale shadow stepped across the universe, to peer in wonder at it's first design. With a bubble of laughter, they dropped one indigo tear upon the earth.
YOU ARE READING
The Godless World
FantasyEvery culture has their own foretelling of the end of the world, with their own gods attributing to the destruction. Many tales talk of the gods coming to earth, and no one knows which one is correct. But the gods had their own foretelling, that at...