The Death of Gods

Why do we say that time drifts? It doesn't. It tears across at break neck, hair raising speed. Perpetually pinging you forwards to a future unknown and at times unwanted. I have never come across this lazy, lounging, old man riding a rubber ring on a gentle river of time. Mine has always been saturated in Redbull and pumped up on an intravenous drip of crack, caffeine, and Adderall. He's a crazy arsed, clench jawed, grinning, wide-eyed, Jockeresque fool that should have no business operating a can opener let alone the fine spindle threads of time and destiny. I guess that was Fate's old joke. I knew I shouldn't have pissed her off before departing, but hell what else was I to do in the last wintery moments of my immortality? The bitch had screwed me like all the old gods and now I was here serving my mortal penance, waiting on death and Anubis' judgement. 

Anubis, a character saved for the best of freakish nightmares. Del Toro couldn't even have dreamed this fucker up. If I was ever to get back I needed to get past this son-of-a-bitch, and well, there has always been that little history. The small incident. The incident that had also made the Kraken cry. 

Part of that is my penance now. The other part? Well let's just say that atheism is not the only reason for the death of gods.


Leamington Spa/Midlands/UK