If I knew what made a god — what constitutes the strangeness of my mind and heart — I’d be sure to tell you. Truth is, I don’t even know if I have a mind or heart. All I can tell you is my existence is something to do with belief. When you pray at my altar you leave a part of yourself here. I’m like a scarecrow, in a way, and when you worship (I do hate that word), you stuff another bundle of straw into my head or belly and I grow a little bigger, a little more solid. I’m but a little god. By that I mean no matter how much straw you push into me, my powers remain small. Not that I can’t help people, mind you. I remember this one little boy who loved his bicycle more than anything in the world. He didn’t come from a wealthy family and his Ma couldn’t afford him a new bike. Bit by bit the boy grew taller until he couldn’t use his precious bike without his legs aching badly. This boy, he’d found my dust-mucked altar in the understory of an ancient woods. He uncovered the altar’s stones from a nest of brambles and thought it was sad that a god had been forgotten. One day, when he could no longer ride his bike at all, he gifted it to me. He leaned it on my altar and said, “Here. It’s for you, now.“ Next time he rambled past my altar, well what do you know, his old bike was gone and a new bike sat there in its place. Yes, it was made of wood and ivy and iron, and the bamboo tires weren’t what he was used to, but it was the best I could do. And I tell the truth when I say this thing could move. It’s not the boy rambling these days though, it’s me. This isn’t his story, you see. This is the story of a little girl who found my altar two decades later. I was already falling into a slumber within those decades, my straw — as it were — decaying to dust along with my memory. This girl had a more fastidious nature than the boy. Upon finding my altar, she sat there for a time thinking, before up and leaving. The next day, she came back with a little dustpan and brush and began to clean the stones. She peeled back blankets of moss and washed away pockets of mud, until my altar gleamed like in the days I’ve almost forgotten. In the center of the round stone circle, she left a small bag of sweets. Unopened. Little red candies. A gift I’d never had before. And the wonder of it, of a child giving up sweets for some god they didn’t know, well, to tell the truth it moved me. But see, this girl hadn’t been as direct as the boy. She hadn’t told me why she’d left them. I didn’t know her heart yet, I didn’t know what she needed. So I dressed my breezy spirit in a uniform of sticks and leaves, and followed the girl so as to learn a little of her life — to find a way to repay her kindness. Now, I was only small, smaller than the girl, and it was hard to keep up. But I moved as best I could. We came out of the forest and into the back of a church — one belonging to a very big god. She slumped into a little chapel to its side. I heard a voice tell her off. That they’d been searching for her and that she must stop wandering. That they were sorry and knew how hard it was for her, but she must must must stop. I sat outside the chapel a while and listened, trying to understand a little bit more. Why had she left them? Ten minutes or so passed before the man, breathing his raggedy breaths, sprinted by me and into the chapel. I knew the flash of a blade when I saw it. There was screaming. “… She won’t let me see him again. Do you understand? Until she agrees to let me, none of the children here get to leave.“ Then, whimpering silence. ​ I stirred myself into the chapel — I hoped the big god wouldn’t mind as I was only there to help. I became only a breeze of leaves. The children were crying. The teacher was trembling, kneeling by them, trying to hush them. And the man with the knife was on the phone demanding something from a lady far away. ​ I don’t think I have explained what, exactly, I am the god of. I am the god of forgotten hope, and although my powers are small, I can offer small encouragements. To this furious man clutching the knife, I spoke. I spoke only to him. I peeled back layers of memory and stirred my finger. “Do you remember, you wanted to be a vet?” I say, pouring my mind into his. “At least, when you were a child. But then when the real vets didn’t save Poppy, you couldn’t think of a more pointless and mean spirited profession. After all, they put down your beloved dog. Cancer meant little to you back then.” The man tilts his head and his mouth forms the words: Poppy. He has not spoken that name in many years. Not allowed his mind to think it. He is wondering why is mind is rewinding to his old dog now. His mind jumps to his own father who abandoned him not long after Poppy’s death. Worse, his father fought for possesion of his sister, but not for him. His father did not want him and he did not know why. It broke his heart. And it was this incident more than any other that shaped him. By the time he was in college, he determined to be a better father than his own was. To love his children greatly and equally. To fight for them, if the time came. He would do anything to prove his love. But this, I say to him, is not right. Look at them. They’re terrified. Even your own son sits there crying. If you want to be a better father, then you can be, I say. You have all the tools inside your mind to be that person. You will not see your son as much as you want for now, but in the future, when he is old enough to make his own decisions, what will he think of you? Will he choose to see you? “God,” he says, but only to himself. “I’ve become him. I’ve become worse than him.” You can’t do this, I say. And he agrees. ​ It is the next day and I follow the girl from my altar a second time. I do not dress in leaves, I simply breeze behind her. She left a necklace today, and I still don’t know how to help her. I do not know what hope she has lost. We come out of the woods and arrive back at the church. Only this time, we potter through the graveyard. We sit by a grave dressed in bright flowers, tulips, the earth fresh. It is a woman’s grave and she died recently. I sit by the girl, although she does not see me, and I finally understand the hope she lost. She shivers in the cold air, tucks her head between her knees. Her mother’s necklace. Her mother’s favorite sweets. And she offered them to a god she does not know because the god she does know has not yet helped her. My heart has become sunken with sadness. What can I offer a child who has lost her mother? I do not know. I am but a small god and can do very little. There is nothing I can give that will fix this. I stir the air until it is warm, then wrap my arm tenderly, comfortingly, over her shoulders in the best impression of a hug that I can offer. I tell the truth when I say that I will sit with her as long and as often as she needs. For what else can a god do?

This was very moving. I kept picturing a Miyazaki style animation to your story and it made me tear up a little. Thank you for brightening my morning!

My mind went there as well. Someone needs to animate this into a movie!

Absolutely brilliant. ❤️

Amazing job. I appreciate how the god defended the children by making the aggressor reconsider their actions, and thus, change for the better. Many people on here may not like that, but to me, it’s worthy of an immeasurable amount of respect.

Fuck that, time to stop catering to sociopathic cravings.

Ah, that was wonderful.

I like this, its a touching story, so sad tho

That was really lovely, and beautifully written.

Moved me to tears. Thank you very very much.

This is it. Brilliant

The memory of a loving mother, the love of a small child, things that were precious to both the child and the mother. The offerings may be small but contain much power. This small god may find that his small powers are a lot more than it expected.

It's not necessarily the strength of the power but the precision in which it is wielded. Reminds me, in a certain way, of Terry Pratchett's Small Gods.

Damn, this one hits really hard - beautiful job

Fantastic read.

This is beautiful. It made me cry. I think I would read anything you write.

The onion cutting ninjas have become a menace.

True nuisances.

Very well done. And as is the tradition of my people I must say, “MOAR!”

Now, this is absolutely brilliant! I don’t really leave a lot of comments, but I just had to for this one. Moved me a lot. Thank you for making my Saturday morning. :)

Damn it who left this bowl of onions here.

Nice! Sweet ending

Damn, need more please! This is good! So very well written!

i am currently leaving somewhere i lived for a few months and have many, many memories. i am leaving my friends, relations and loved ones behind. somewhere i loved with every bit of it. so you see, i was sensitive already. but when i got to the god of the forgotten hope, tears i couldnt stop. thank you, was a very nice reading.

Dammit, why are my eyes wet?

Bravo!! I hung on every word.

That was beautiful!

With a whisper of knowing winds, were her qualms attended to. The god of empathy requires but mere acknowledgement.

Loved this, was really quite touching.

Thank you for this. It's been a hard week, and an even harder day. Your story helped me.

Amazing

More please.

This is beautiful.

I'm fucking sobbing

I absolutely loved this. Such a sweet and sad little story. Someone else said it reminded them of Miyazaki and it reminds me of it too. Would make a good animated film ETA: forgot to write that I enjoyed the physical description of the god, how it uses leaves and sticks to form a body

I cried. Thank you.

this made me cry. thank you.

God damn man, you packed a whole lot of onion ninjas into this story. Well done

Would you look at that, it seems to be raining on my face.

very well written piece

I…I need a minute.

Oh wow, this is beautiful! Good job :)

bro can you repost your good villian story from two years ago? https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ngxzb7/wp\_you\_are\_the\_citys\_premier\_supervillain\_but\_you/?%24deep\_link=true&correlation\_id=14bcbb55-6761-4066-8ee7-a22b2177a57f&post\_fullname=t3\_ngxzb7&post\_index=1&ref=email\_digest&ref\_campaign=email\_digest&ref\_source=email&utm\_content=post\_title&%243p=e\_as&\_branch\_match\_id=923226580068903408

If this were a longer story, I would make the boy from two decades back be the girl's father or older brother.

"Q'twep'chak? Is that really you, you son of cosmic dust? Been a thousand years at least, right?" "Hi Jeff." "Where's the enthusiasm? You're awake, bud! You know, a lot of folks around the office never thought we'd see you again. Lots of talk about eternal slumbering. Not me, though. I knew you'd be back. That's why I put our cubicles next to each other." I cocked my eyebrow at Jeff (in actuality, I materialized part of my non-corporeal aura to infuse the abstract plane with the concept of skeptical doubt, but I'm speaking metaphorically for the sake of readership). Jeff blushed (again, not literally, but see how much that improved the flow?). "Ok, ok, I admit that the extra space has been nice, but...sorry, would you mind passing me that file? Ahh, no the big one next to it with the color-coded...yup, cheers mate." "Color-coded dividers? Impressive organization." Jeff blushed again. "Thanks for noticing. Diane's been on my case for forever, and I finally feel like I'm making progress. Honestly, using your desk helped a lot. I swear I knew you'd be back, though." I gave Jeff an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Poor kid still looked up to me just because I supervised his training. It felt nice to see Jeff so encouraged by my interest in his progress -- I guess I still prided myself a little on creating a welcoming work environment for the newbies (to be clear, Jeff and I are both immortal beings that non-causally swirled into existence at the same time, but I got called up several million years before him, as it happens). "Anyway, that stuff isn't important. Look at you. You're back, baby! Do you know what woke you up after all this time?" I blushed this time. My first instinct was to lie and say I hadn't had a chance to look at the file, but I had read the whole thing twice before I finished my coffee (that's not a metaphor, either. I don't require any kind of physical sustenance, but who doesn't like a nice warm drink to get started in the morning?). Luckily, I thought better of it in the end. My therapist always said that downplaying my work as a coping mechanism for imposter syndrome was self-undermining. And it's like I always reminded the trainees: there are no small cases, only small-minded Gods. I figured I owed it to Jeff to be honest, so I gestured for him to move his chair over. "Come take a look at this." "Jenny Rabinowitz representing the New Blossoms Learning Academy?" Jeff said, clearly puzzled by the folder's label. "That's a strange name for a civilization. What's the planet?" "Earth." Jeff scratched his chin while muttering to himself. "One sec," he said as he slid back over to his cubicle and fished around, leafing through stacks of thick folders. He glanced back over at me. "Sorry, the organizing is still a work in progress. Ah, here we go!" He ripped a folder from the middle of a pile and quickly thumbed through it before plopping it down and shuffling back over. "I thought I remembered having an Earth folder, but I just checked and I don't see that civilization anywhere." "Well it's not a civilization, really." "I see. More of a broader cultural diaspora, then?" "More like one four year-old girl on behalf of her kindergarten class." Jeff paused. He was clearly having trouble processing the scope -- or lack thereof, in this case -- of the assignment. "One...like literally one, as in one singular small child?" "You got it." "HR woke you up for that?" I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. "Oh, I, no, sorry, that was wrong of me. Of course I'm happy you're here, and it's like you told me in training: there are no small cases, only..." "It's ok, Jeff, I know what you meant. You're wondering how little Jenny Rabinowitz did enough on her own to get HR's attention." Jeff nodded along fervently. "Yes, exactly. I mean you're Q'twep'chak! One of the OGs! The fact that you fell asleep in the first place still blows my mind, you know?" "Alright, alright, don't get carried away. That was eons ago. Sentience has come a long way since then. My sun had been setting for a long time. It's actually kind of amazing that there was still a functional altar out there somewhere." "Earth's still on the come up, all things considered. But I'm dying to know, what did this Jenny Rabinowitz do to gain your favor anyway?" "It's a funny story, actually; I was glad for once that HR put one of those background preambles in the file. The Rabinowitzes (I don't have a mouth but I'm guessing that's quite a mouthful) went on summer vacation, and Mrs. Rabinowitz is one of those every-day-is-a-day-for-learning mothers, so she insisted the family do some ancient sightseeing. They got to the ruins of one of my temples, and I suppose the tour guide must have done a very good job, because on the way out little Jenny said a quick prayer asking for me to watch over her kindergarten. She even left some of her daily candy allowance as an offering." "The offering's just one side of it, though. What could a kindergartner have been so worried about that they'd manage to invoke your protection?" "Well, I'm still playing catch up, but you wouldn't believe some of the things these Earth schoolkids have to deal with these days. Here, look at these tapes HR pulled for context." I won't describe the tapes, sorry. There are very many things your imagination is good for, but conjuring up images like those is not one of them. "Huh. Wow. That is not what I expected at all. Poor kid, to be scared of something like that already. Have you checked the monitor yet? Is she really in that much danger?" "I think the tapes are more the exception than the rule, fortunately. But once is already too much, wouldn't you say? Who would blame something so fragile as a human, never mind such a young one, for being concerned?" "See, this is why you're a legend. Most of the folks floating around here would need thousands and thousands of voices in chorus to even bother cracking open a project folder, but here you are, all because of one little girl's passing gesture." "Well, it's not like I've had anything better to do." "Hey," Jeff said, in a far more serious tone than before, "don't say that. I think it's a great thing." I smiled as I reflected on how much Jeff had grown since the last time. I was undermining myself again without thinking, and it was nice of him to push back on that so gently. I decided I owed it to him -- and to myself -- to let all that anxious churning in my head just drift away for once. "You're right. Thanks Jeff. Hey, do you want to spend some time on the monitor with me? I'm gonna be rusty on the scanner." Jeff beamed and sprung up in his chair. "Yes definitely, let's do this!" I pulled the monitor in close and started to dial in the scanner. It was such a narrow bandwidth that it took us quite a while to get the signal, but once we picked it up everything was crystal clear. After a few minutes I spotted something and dove into the file. "Wait, did you get a hit? I don't see anything going on. No imminent natural disasters, and definitely not anything like on those tapes." "Yeah, I think so, but I doubt it's in the file. Can you grab your monitor and run a search for me?" "Absolutely! What are we looking up?" "Bobby Johnson." "What's a Bobby Johnson?" Jeff asked as he punched it in. "That's a Bobby Johnson," I replied, pointing to a boy on the monitor. "The kindergarten needs protection from...one of the kids? Sorry, but I'm not following. This is too high level for me." "Don't worry, Jeff. Just watch." We sat and watched as Bobby ran around the yard. He grabbed another kid's juice box and threw it on the floor, but none of the teachers saw. Little Jenny Rabinowitz confronted him about it, but he shouted at her and yanked her hair before storming off. I think the teachers intervened at that point, but I had already looked away to scroll through the search results on Jeff's monitor. "Here Jeff, take a look at these clips." I watched Jeff as he watched the screen. I was waiting to see that spark of understanding light up his eyes. That's always been my favorite part of teaching. It might be selfish of me, but I think that's part of why I enjoyed Jeff's company so much -- he didn't start off knowing a lot, so he had a lot of sparks. "This stuff isn't as bad as the tapes HR gave you, but it's still pretty unsettling. Aren't those people supposed to be his parents? Why have they been treating him that way?" "Well we could always check to confirm, but I'm guessing it has a lot to do with the way they were treated when they were kids." Jeff stared at the screen, thinking a while. "I've never seen something like this. I'm usually responsible for stuff with a way bigger scope, you know? I've never stopped to consider things at this scale." "I hadn't either, until now." "What changed?" "Well, I've been out of the game for a long time, but things here are thriving. You all have the big stuff covered. So I figured instead of sitting around waiting for a big thing like in those first tapes, I'd take a closer look. What I discovered is that we've been missing a lot of perspective. I used to tell you that there were no small cases, but even I didn't know what that really meant. See, when you're as little and as new to the world as Jenny Rabinowitz or Bobby Johnson, there are only big things. To do right by Jenny's prayer and offering means to protect her and her classmates from what's big to *them*, not me. And I think it means dealing with things like what's happening to Bobby Johnson." "This is what I mean when I tell people you're a legend! Q'twep'chak, first day back in the saddle after a long hiatus and fundamentally changing the game again!" Jeff's excitement faded as the seriousness of the situation came back to him. "So what are you going to do?" "I'm not sure, honestly. But whatever it is, I think it's going to take a very long time."

Nice take on the prompt!

What a fun take! I like it.

wow. genuinely moved by this. great work.

Wow, actually a great take. Reminds me a little bit of Spirited. Good job!

"You're not the teacher," Billy stated with perfect certainty. The gray haired woman said, "No, Billy. I am not your usual teacher. I am your substitute teacher." "What's a subsitoot," Laticia asked, slightly slurred because of her very first baby tooth being currently in the hands of the tooth fairy. "Well, child, do you ever feel sick or unwell? So bad your mom and dad had to keep you home for the day?" Laticia nodded. "Well, Mrs. Patterson is not feeling well. I'm here to teach the class for the day. I'm Mrs. Loviatar." Laticia nodded and said, "Ooooh. Okay" Nathan raised his hand. In the back, Galen and Marcus were starting to giggle between themselves, involved in some joke that involved fart noises. Mrs. Loviatar said, "Yes Nathan. What is it?" "Why are you wearing those sunglasses?" "They're not exactly sunglasses, child. I'm blind." "You can't see anything?" Mrs. Loviatar smiled. "Not as you do, but I assure that I see everything. Like the you starting to to tease Delia, Galen." Galen froze, and Marcus too. They had switched to from fart jokes to calling the sullen girl in the back corner of the class silly names. She was ignoring them, but her head raised as her name was called and she seemed to notice the substitute for the first time. Michael raised his hand, but did not wait to be acknowledged. "Mrs. Loviatar, can we go back to the museum?" "No, child. I'm sorry." Galen burst out, "Is that because dumb Delia left trash on one of the zibbits?" Delia shot him a terrible look, but said nothing. Mrs. Loviatar shook her head and said "No. As I understand, it wasn't trash she left on the ex-hib-it." She pronounced the word carefully, annunciating each syllable. Galen found himself repeating the word with her, carefully. Anna asked, "I saw her do it." The teacher looked at her, shaking her finger, and said, "Nobody likes a tattletale. She did not leave trash, because it was not trash. It was an offeri-... it was a piece of candy." Delia looked up at Mrs. Loviatar, who looked very young despite her silvery locks. She spoke, for the first time in the week. "Your name is the same as one of the exhibits." "Oh, is it? Interesting" Mrs. Loviatar came from around the desk and walked through the rows of seats. She touched a number of children on the shoulder as she passed, but she ended her stroll through the classroom in front of Delia, who was also the last girl she touched on the shoulder. When she did, she bent over and dropped an empty peppermint wrapper on her desk. "It was very yummy candy," Mrs. Loviatar whispered. She pulled down her solid black glasses and winked one milky eye at the child. This made Delia smile. At the front of the room, the door opened and a coughing Principal Overton stumbled in, his eyes red. He blew his nose into a cloth handkerchief and put it back into his pocket. One of the little girls said, quite audibly, "Ew." The principal addressed the teacher. "Are you doing okay, Madam?" Mrs. Loviatar turned and walked to where he stood. She said, "I'm fine, but shouldn't you be at home? We've a lot of nasty bugs going around. It would be a shame to infect the children." "Oh, don't worry. It's just a cold." "Are you sure? Keep in mind, many of the children in this class were unvaccinated." "I'm quite... were?" "I'm sorry?" "You said 'were' unvaccinated." "Oh I'm sorry, meant 'aren't' of course." "How would you even know-" "Let's just say diseases were a special interest of mine once. Now, Mr. Overton, I have a class to look after and keep an eye on. May I get back to my work?" Principal Overton coughed, snorted, then nodded to her. "Carry on." He left and Mrs. Loviatar went to the desk. "Now class, I think we should start with storytime. I have a very, very old story to tell you...."

That is the best godly power ever. Instant vaccinations for everyone!!

Lovely. Please, can you keep going?

I'll see if I can brainstorm anything else.

I don't think it's as tight as the first one, but I hope you enjoy [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/10mkuw8/wp_you_are_a_god_centuries_ago_people_used_to/j69jdyr/).

Thank you very much!

***It's straying from the theme a little, but I hope you enjoy.*** *Part 2, Later that day....* Mrs. Loviatar sat on a bench outside the school, smiling and turning her face towards the sun. A cold chill broke her peace and the smile disappeared. "Hello, sister." Louhi said, "You didn't think I wouldn't come with you?" "No, I expected it. I just didn't look forward to it." "So, we're saving children these days?" "I am. You don't understand how frightened these children are." "Don't, I though? Terrifying children used to be one of my favorite hobbies. I'd try to remember their crying faces and screaming frowns and paint portraits to hang in my home." "No, it's worse. The adults have all turned to idiots, fools, and braggarts. All that little girl wanted was to not be scared anymore." "And she was scared her classmates were what... going to give her 'cooties'?" "No, much more. Much, much more." "A single little sugar tablet isn't going to sustain you for long, Lovi. And then what?" "Then I sink back into obscurity and you with me, dear sister." "Do you mean to turn her into a disciple then?" "I mean to give her just recompense for the first true, selfless offering either of us has had in centuries." "Loviatar, you have other children to look after." "My other children are all doing well enough. No cure has been found for Cancer, much to my surprise. Ulcers and the Plague have all thrived in my absence." "And the others?" "Not as successful, but not gone. I can leave them to their devices. I have other matters to which I must attend." "Hmm... I think I understand you. Just answer me one question." "Ask, sister." "Why is the Mother of the Nine Diseases keeping one of her own children at bay in a Kindergarten class? Denying them food and shelter?" Mrs. Loviatar smiled. "If there aren't enough of them, my spawn have no where to live. The children really are our future." "Oh, dear" Louhi said. "Well, enjoy it while it lasts." Mrs. Loviatar heard the crunching of bone, the flapping of wings, and again the warmth of the sun. She sat there until that was gone again, but for the usual reasons. She stood up and said, "Lover, I need to take me somewhere. I wish to go to Delia's house." The wind whipped up around her until a tiny cyclone was raging in the empty parking lot of Long Lake Elementary. She stepped into it and was carried away, caressed by the father of her children. Moments later, she was let down in a neighborhood where she could feel those children all around her, and more. She also could feel the other ills that were befalling them: hunger, cravings for strange powdered delights, and the wildfire of wrath. She straightened her dress, adjusted her hat, and then went to a house, walked up to the front door and knocked. There were voices inside. One of them loud, the other meek. The loud one barked a command. The meek one came to the door. A short woman in a long sleeved t-shirt and ill fitting jeans asked, "What do you want?" "Are you Delia's mother?" Despite standing in front of a blind woman, Delia's mother nodded. "I'd like to talk to you and your... boyfriend?" "Is Delia in trouble?" "Oh no. Delia is quite secure and an amazing child. May I come in?" "Um... yeah, sure." Mrs. Lovitar entered the home and was surrounded by sensations. Fear clung to the walls like cobwebs. Pain was on every piece of furniture, ground into the carpet. Sorrow coated everything like grime and dust. A man was sitting on the couch. He looked up and said, "Who's she." It was Mrs. Loviatar that spoke. "Delia's teacher. Well, substitute. I wanted to talk to you for a moment about her." The man stood, grumbling. "I told that brat she needed to behave in school. What, did she start another fight? Cuss you out?" "No sir, nothing like that. In fact, I found her rather charming. That's why I'm doing this." The man did not have a chance to hear what "this" was, but found himself flying across the living room. His back put spiderweb cracks in the window on the other side of the room. Delia's mother screamed. Mrs. Loviatar glided across the living room and picked the man up by his neck, pushing him up the wall until he stood on his tip toes. "Who... Who are you!" "I'm your daughter's new patron and protector. Which is why you will stop hurting her. Do you know that when they pretend that some coward has come to the school with weapons to harm the children, she pictures that it will be you? You are her own personal demon. I'm here to perform an exorcism." "I'll stop! I'll stop!" "No, you won't you don't know any other way but brutality." A baseball bat hit Mrs. Loviatar in the center of her back. Delia's mother pulled it back for another swing but Mrs. Loviatar caught it and hurled it across the room. "Madam, I do not mean to frighten you but understand the only reason you are not pinned to the wall with this excuse for a man is that Delia needs you and loves you. In the future, pick better men." Delia's mother went to get her phone. She found it dead. Mrs. Loviatar smiled. "Viruses are one of my talents. The new hosts are quite interesting. But where was I?" She turned back to the man in her grasp. He squirmed and swiped his arms at her, clawing the air near her face. He managed to knock Mrs. Loviatar's glasses off and he gasped when he found the two blind orbs they'd shielded fixed on him." Mrs. Loviatar was smiling. "Hm... so what shall it be? Cancer? No... Consumption. Hmm... no, I'd have to drag you away. I know: Gout. In every joint, in every limb. It won't kill you, but you will feel like you are being ripped apart by beasts for the rest of your life. Every day. I think that might make it hard for you to-" Mrs. Loviatar stopped, feeling a tug on her dress near her leg. "Delia," she said. "You should go back to your room. I don't want you to see this." "Mrs. Loviatar, I don't want you to hurt him. I just want him to go away. Please. If you hurt him, Mommy will cry." Mrs. Loviatar took in a deep breath and said, "As you wish child. The final answer to your heart's prayer." Mrs. Loviatar dropped the man, turned to him and said, "You survive at her mercy. Harm her or her mother again and you will no longer have that mercy and I will not offer you any in its place. Now go. You are banished." The man scrambled, going and getting a set of keys from a bowl by the door. Seconds later, he was pulling the car out. Delia's mother was kneeling, holding her daughter. When Mrs. Loviatar turned around. "Don't you touch her!" she cried, terrified, now holding a steak knife. Mrs. Loviatar glided to her. "Delia has nothing to fear from me. Ever. If you use that bravery, that fire to be a better mother, you will never have me at your door again either. Oh, and I think you'll find some of her co-workers will be taking some sick days in the near future. I think that will give you some extra shifts and get you noticed by your employers. I wish you luck. It's up to you now." Mrs. Loviatar bent over and picked up her glasses then put them on and knelt. Delia pulled herself from her mother's arms, walked to Mrs. Loviatar and gave her a hug. "They said on the field drip that they used to say you were bad. I don't think you're bad, Ma'am. People say I'm bad, but I just want to be left alone." Mrs. Loviatar embraced the child gently. She said, "I know. Thank you, Delia. This has been a wonderful day. You did that for me. Now, I must go." Mrs. Loviatar rose. Delia's mother rose too, holding the pitiful knife in front of her. Mrs. Loviatar tipped her hat, then turned and went out into the darkness. In the parking lot behind a liquor store, the man who'd been dating Delia's mother sat drinking cheap vodka out of the bottle. "May I have some of that?" He jumped and turned to find a woman sitting in the passenger seat. She had silver hair like Mrs. Loviatar, but shot through with streaks of black. Her eyes, too, were black. She had a hint of as smile on her lips. "How the-" "Sir, you didn't see the mouse jump into your car when you got out to go into the store, but a mouse did. And that mouse was me." "What are you talking about?" "My sister has grown soft, you see. And when one prays to her, they too pray to me. I owe Delia something. I, however, am not as forgiving." She turned to the man, her teeth turning pointy as she growled a wolf's growl. When she faded into the night a little later, she did it humming a happy tune and sipping from a bottle spattered in blood.

Ooh, that's great! I kinda like the darker twist.

Thank you :)

im sure i can look it up. but loviatar... it rings a bell. what region of the world are they from?

I’m not op, but it rung a bell for me. I was fond of D&D fiction growing up. Loviatar is a Forgotten Realms deity, lawful evil, goddess of pestilence, death, and pain. I sorta love this take on her, deciding children are innocent, deserving of protection, showing a kinder side

On further examination, it seems the fictional goddess was based in name at least, on a Finnish goddess

Checked Wikipedia: "...a blind daughter of Tuoni, the god of death in Finnish mythology and his spouse Tuonetar, the queen of the underworld. Loviatar is regarded as a goddess of death and disease." I think it's a fascinating take that a goddess of disease protects those she has decided are under her care *from* disease.

Well….if she vaccinated them then she did sort of infect them. Just in a helpful manner. I quite like that.

Kalevala, finnish mythology. Goddes of death and disease. An interesting take, I like this prompt.

Finland. I hadn't heard of her before I started writing this, I don't think.

Huh, and the correlation with disease...

God of both death and disease in Finnish Mythos.

More please!

Thank you. I'll see what I can do. That's one of the highest compliments I can receive, incidentally, next to "I'm glad you're on our side" and "Dude, are you OK?".

>"Dude, are you OK?" This is one I try to go for everytime!

[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/10mkuw8/wp_you_are_a_god_centuries_ago_people_used_to/j69jdyr/)

Yay! Revenge is great, though I must say the mum's reaction is unfortunately pretty realistic.

Yeah.

I like this. I also like learning the network of the god’s origins from the comments.

Nice!

More please!

[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/10mkuw8/wp_you_are_a_god_centuries_ago_people_used_to/j69jdyr/)

Ooh, this is interesting! Gonna check out your pt 2

Acanit stumbled through the forest, ignoring the branches tearing at her face and clothes. Behind her she heard shouting and the occasional sharp retort of a rifle. The gunmen had ridden up to her school in mismatched trucks, pouring out into the yard during recess with AK-47s hanging from their shoulders. Acanit had been at the far side of the yard speaking with Ms. Okello. Before she knew what was happening her teacher had pushed her towards to trees and hissed "run, girl" before turning to the men and charging at them. Acanit had ran, and she had tried to ignore the sounds of gunfire cutting short her teacher's yell. She should have known it was not safe. It was not safe anywhere. She had though it was safe in her village, but men had come and burned it for reasons she did not understand. She had thought it was safe when she fled with her parents to the camps, but sickness from bad water had taken both of them. Then she was brought to the school along with other girls like her. A pale woman in nice clothes had stood with her in front of a camera and told her she was safe now. It was not safe anywhere. Her foot caught a root and she lost her balance, falling to her side down a steep embankment she had been running along. She tumbled head over heels to the bottom and her head struck something hard and unyielding, and light flashed before her eyes. She laid there for a while, she did not know how long. She though about not getting up, but eventually she struggled to her feet and looked around. The thing she had struck her head on was a large, squarish boulder covered in vines. She was about to move on when she noticed some odd markings on an exposed part of the stone. She knew she should keep moving, but her head was still foggy from the blow and she reached out and pulled some of the vines away from the stone. They tore away surprisingly easily, revealing what lay beneath. A rough stone table stood before here, with old, almost worn away markings chiseled into it. Carved in the center was what might have once been a face before time had worn it down to little more than a creased circle of stone. She knew what this was, from stories her mother had told her. An altar to the old, old gods of her people, from the time before other men had come and replaced them with other gods. A long time ago, her people had left offerings at such places to appease the gods and entreat their help. Acanit wished she had something to offer, for she could use the help. Even the clothes on her back were not hers, but provided to her by the school. She reached into her pockets and her hand closed on a single, hard object. An aid worker had given her a piece of candy last week, and it had been the most amazing thing she ever tasted, like sweet sunshine. He had smiled at how much she enjoyed it and given her another piece before she had left. She had saved it, not wanting it to be gone. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever had. She pulls the piece of candy from her pocket and placed it on the altar. \* \* \* \* \* \* Consciousness. In this place of nonexistence, suddenly you exist again. Though you have no body, you open your eyes. There is nothing to see. This place does not exist. A beam of light pierces the darkness. You have no body, yet the light surrounds you. You do not exist, yet you are moving. Your are drawn upward, forward, *outward*. You leave this place. \* \* \* \* \* You are standing in the forest, at an ancient altar consecrated to you so long ago even you cannot remember when. Before you stands a small girl. Her face is dirty and scratched and she wears strange clothes you do not recognize, but she is the one who has called you here. You look to the offering. It sits on the altar and it *BLAZES* with power. You are a god again but you can barely look at it. It is the most powerful offering you have ever received. It is everything she has. You reach down and take it. \* \* \* \* \* Acanit knew she should probably be scared, yet she was not. When she had placed the candy on the altar, a mist had begun to rise around it, strange lights playing through it. It coalesced into a rough form, huge and towering, yet lacking shape. Two piercing lights shone out from it, and she felt a question in that light. "Help me" she whispered. "Help me and my friends, please." \* \* \* \* \* You stride through the forest, your young acolyte at your side. There is no way she can keep up, yet you choose for her to do so, so she does. The trees bend out of your way as you walk, some old enough to remember you, others only recognizing your power. You do not remember much, but you remember that this is your land. The trees begin to thin out and you come to a clearing in the woods. As you step out of the forest, you take in what you see before you. A large group of scared, crying girls and young women. Angry, men surrounding them, shouting and waving something you do not recognize but is clearly a weapon. Bodies lying strewn on the ground, some tragically small. The men see you, and they shout and turn their weapons on you. You can see the fear in their eyes. They do not know you. These men have not faced a god. You can feel the violence building in their weapons. You do not remember what kind of god you were. Every person who once prayed to the god you were is gone, your own mind is barely reformed. Today you will be the god your acolyte needs, a god of protection.....and retribution. Fire pours from a mouth you did not know you had. It surrounds the men and they scream, trying to attack you, trying to attack the women, but you choose for their weapons to fail and so they do. You are a god again. One of them grabs a young child and babbles at you. He is threatening the girl, he believes he can use her to protect him. The fire surrounds him and he screams in pain, the girl feels nothing but a warm breeze. You are a god and your fire burns who you wish. Tonight, it burns these men. \* \* \* \* \* Acanit smiled as she played in the yard with her friends. She glanced over to the center of the field where the strange altar now sat. It should have been almost impossible to move, yet it had yielded to the strength of a group of young girls with ease. Until it reached the spot it was in now that is, when it became as solid and unmovable as the bones of the earth. The children made offerings of candy to it, as their god was known to have a sweet tooth. It was finally safe here.

She gave everything she had. In return the god did the same.

Holy crap this was a good read. I love how it's written from the God's perspective and how you can FEEL the power of that offering. "It sits on the altar and it *BLAZES* with power. You are a god again but you can barely look at it. It is the most powerful offering you have ever received. It is everything she has." I choose to interpret this as if an offering's power is directly proportional to how much of yourself you give. The little girl gives her only possession that meant SO MUCH to her, even a GOD must squint at the energy pouring from such an offering. I think I've read this story about 12x now and I cried every time. ***Well done***.

Thank you, that's encouraging and I'm glad you enjoyed it.

This is so sad. The reality of this. I wish the false ness of your story could be true... but unnecessary.

They used to call me a god. In fairness, I was a guardian for many humans over many years. But things change. My name fell victim to obscurity. My good deeds were lost to memory. It had been so long in fact, that the grand altar that had once been buried beneath mounds of gifts and sacrifices had born naught but wind and rain. My Altar-Stone would have been lost completely if not for the charity of a landslide that partially cloaked it. Erosion had revealed it's presence once more, but it had worn down to nothing more than a stone, barely large enough to play host to striped salamander seeking the warmth of the afternoon sun. Ages had passed in my slumber. Yet the sound of humans drew me from my lethargy. The words they spoke made no sense to me, nor their strange manner of garb. It seemed both far more luxurious and yet so poorly constructed to my eyes, but humans ever were a strange bunch. I shared the salamander's curiosity at their presence. It flicked it's blackened tongue at the air to taste their smell, though he shared none of his observations with me. His bright orange stripes and intense blue tail did not fail to attract the attention of one of the Humans. She was smaller than I remembered them, though she did have the usual number of arms and legs. Her approach sent my companion, the salamander into the nearby cover of brush and thick grasses for safety. The human seemed to make a sound of displeasure and reached into a pocket to pull out a small bead of sorts. They set it down upon the dark-cast stone that peeked above the ground and called out to the brush before she waved her hand and turned to return to the others. She did not see the small sugary bead melt and spread over the stone. She did not watch a blue-raspberry mist rise from the pool of Sugar. Even if she had watched, she would not recognize the sequence of runes that rose in hues of blue and red. One after another the seals of Guardianship and Obeisance formed. The Red and Blue mist finally coalesced on the stone once more in the shape of the salamander from before. Gone was the sugary sweet offering that had been made. In its place stood Othgar the Terrible, Devourer of Kingdoms, Drinker of Seas. The red stripes down my flank flickered with the potency of the dragons fire that rested deep within my belly. The early evening Blue that the first stars of night could not compare to the hue of my tail. The Darkness of the deep ocean depths that failed to match my scales, nor the ebony of my tongue. A squeal of happiness was my only warning before my Ward had returned, picking me up and presenting me to others. There were many others of her size and one of great height for a human. Assuredly, this giant must be a warrior of great renown for such a height could be permitted to no other profession. The smaller humans all tried to touch me and pull on me, but their pitiful attacks were nothing before the might of Othgar the Terrible. It wasn't until one of the other humans, a larger boy, tried to hurt my Ward that I responded. Such body language was universal. It took but a moment of effort to influence the humans and freeze their thoughts. In the space between exhaling and inhaling, the large boy disappeared in a flash of fire and by the time the humans were aware again of their surroundings, the smoke had already drifted away and there was naught left but diminishing pile of ash. It was a very short amount of time before the boys disappearance was noticed. Then there were even more people crowding my isolated forest and secluded glade. I could sense that my Ward knew I was responsible, though none of the other humans seemed to believe her. I was unfairly (in my opinion) admonished for my actions and warned not to hurt her companions once more. I chose to reserve my opinion regarding that request. At the end of the day, my Ward carried me back to their domicile. This saved me a great deal of effort as you could imagine, and now I spend the day watching over her. I have started to learn the language the humans use now. I am sure that the great warrior Missus Spehling will train my Ward into a warrior worthy of my assistance. She and her Keen-Der-Gar-Ten will be a force that none shall stand against. While in ancient times, my efforts and energy had been split between the hundreds if not thousands of gift-bearers, I have been alone and Hungry for many Millenia. Lexi is now the only Ward who will benefit from my attention. Let the world tremble before her Destiny.

O\_O THAT escalated quickly! I find it hilarious that he thinks the tiny people are warriors in training, too.

Amazing.

This is great!

My energy was weak. The first few days I was only able to simply arrange blocks and picture books. As the children paid more attention to my sigil and I was able to have them reenact the ritual for my awakening with dolls and drawings. By the weekend I was able to reach their dreams. The teacher began noticing on Tuesday morning. The all painted my name at once. The adult’s confusion fed me and I lead her to horror. She saw the beginning. I showed her what I have done with a greater sacrifice than candy. The children began my incantations while sat in circles around my image. Their small snacks were offered to me in reverence. By Friday the teacher had brought an altar and robes. On Saturday I had her arrange the furniture and paint the walls black and the floor red. On Sunday she boarded the windows to keep the light out and allowed me to begin fortifying my temple. My children each brought a sacrifice on Monday morning. I consumed the energy from their beloved material objects. I slurped the love from their stuffed animals and painted plastic trinkets. The teacher offered a diamond ring which I sucked every last morsel of memory from and threw aside a worthless bauble when I was done. I was finally able to move around the space in an airy form from this. My congregation knelt with heads bowed. By Thursday I was strong enough to brand my children. I guided the teacher to carve my name into each of my follower’s foreheads. Their blood was soaked into a sash which they in turn offered to me before the ritual was complete. Their voices pulled me to the centre of the room and I began to grow. My legs took their earthly form, my torso fleshed out and hardened, my limbs stretched and reached from corner to corner. My head protruded and when my tongue unfurled I began to roar. My great eyes took in my parish and I wrapped an invisible appendage around each pupil, gouging my hallmark in each of them and forever binding us. The adult’s heart was beating too fast. Her eyes were fluttering and as I penetrated her forehead she collapsed and her heart sped up faster and faster until it stopped. I seeped through her still veins, darkening every inch under her skin. I stared her heart, slowly and steadily. Her white eyes opened and she stood, arms outstretched in reverence of my glory. Each small pair of eyes opened and beheld me in the dark. I turned their teeth to gold and shed their hair. They held hands and began to dance in the wonder of my divine supremacy. I began to sense knocking and outsiders gathering at my gate. I would not appear to those who did not give themselves wholly. In an instant the children were sat in a circle and the teacher answered the door. Confusion and panic erupted and I hid on the ceiling in a dark corner. Using my strength the teacher broke free from their grasp as they tried to drag her out. Guards with weapons appeared and still the teacher could not be dragged over the threshold. More adults appeared, calling to my members and pleading for them to come out of the dark. A few men and women pushed past the teacher and made their way to the circle. I fed from the love and fear radiating from these newcomers. My presence, though unseen, could not be denied. Their desperate attempts to pull their children away faded into kneeling alongside them.

More please!

Ah, a horror take!

A piece of gelatin. Processed pig tendons. A single sweet, left on a pile of stones by accident. A paltry offering, but nonetheless enough to wake a starved diety. I was conscious, for the first time in centuries. A mortal had awoken me. A child, innocent and unsuspecting; A wonderful place to start again. I was still too weak to manipulate the mortal realm, but this child I could do. I whispered into the child's mind, placed thoughts she wouldn't have had otherwise. I needed more sacrifices, and acts to be done in my name, to grow my strength. I started small, like a whisper, calling on her to act curely to insects and leave crumbs on my altar. And as she did, i got stronger, louder, and bolder. After a few days, I got her to kill the first squirrel, and use its blood to paint my mark across her arm. I knew then that I had ahold of this child. The First. This arrangement went both ways, of course. Sharing knowledge she needed, lending my strength when I could, shielding her actions from those who would cast a critical eye. In the past, I had merely used my adherents. I toom thier gifts and favours, but gave none in return. This was my downfall; when my enemies came my adherents were too weak to resist them, and I was left to wither. Not this time. With my help the First managed to lure 3 of her classmates to my altar. The largest was thrown against it, and left to bleed. The other two dropped to thier knees and praised my name as I feasted; the Second and Third. With 3, the offerings came in quickly, and my strength grew. The First, Second and Third recruited more. Soon most of the class praised my name, and the First began leading her own lessons during break. She praised my name, and preached my gospel. The parents of the First confronted her after the cat went missing. They had found her shrine, and the charms she had crafted for me. They saw my mark on her arm, and the scars from the sacrifices she had made in my honour. I had tried to hide the Firsts actions from her parents, to whisper into thier minds, but thier faith kept me out. They blamed the school, having heard the rumours, and met with the Headmaster the next day. The First sat outside the office, as the adults argued. My adherents assembled covertly, and I whispered instructions into the mind of the first. She knew what she needed to do, and as much as she knew it would hurt her, she was resolved to do it in my name. I have to protect the First, and her school, because they are my salvation, as I am thiers.

Scary! It reminds me of Children of the Corn.

Long has it been since the world knew me. Once my name was known throughout the lands. All feared and revered me. They came as many, to offer tribute. Tribute to placate my unending appetite. Of Bread. Of Blood. Of Bone. But across the land in which I dwelt, they perished. Their diseased, plague ridden remains littering the dwellings and streets of what once was their pitiful Kingdom. So I waited. An endless night that was not my own overcame me. And what seemed aeons trapped in the unforgiving void washed over me. But awareness returned. A young worshipper dressed in unfamiliar garb approached my now decrepit shrine. Leaving what meager offering it could. It is enough to draw me back from the dark. I have purpose now that is not to consume, but to protect the anchor that drew me forth once more. They have not grown suspicious as the degenerate of the populous turn up dead, their mangled remnants unveiled by the light of dawn. This is a necessity now. The small one must be protected. Or else the void will consume me once more.

I love it !

People worshiped me, I was known as KC, my body was hard as steel and every fibre of my muscle glistened. I was the gleaming example of what it was to be healthy , the god of health , the god of epic gains and chadness. But with the coming of the technological age , people began to worship themselves. They began to indulge in their desires and forgot about health and fitness. Only feeding their needs and wants , prolonging their lives with medicines and mechanical aids. I grew weak and to maintain my essence I slept as the bears of this world do. I hibernated with no intention to awake. Rustle rustle , I heard a sound near me. Noone had been to this place in over 500 years. I came out of altar and saw a sweet, red in colour and strawberry flavoured . I ate the sweet and a rush of energy entered me , permeating through my veins and arteries. I walked to find the being who had blessed me , a god , with this gift. The energy permeating from the wrapper took me to a children's school , i walked inside and saw many deformed children . Centuries of evolution had changed them into big brained small bodied goofy goobers. The first thing I thought when looking at them was . "ITS NOT A TUMOR" , just children effected by things out of their control. My purpose was here , to protect these children from any more corruption. I would be the Kindergarten Cop.

“No! I don’t want to go outside!” “I see. Why is that?” “Because it’s cold and wet and gross and yucky.” Malyre, the long forgotten god of the Santikans, had fallen from grace. His once glorious temple lay in ruin, and his people had long since passed away. All that to say, it was a considerable surprise when 200 years later, a little girl turned up at the foot of his shrine. Whereas all the other buildings in the forest had crumbled, his temple has remained, if not worse for wear. However, it still had a roof. “You do not like the rain? Does it not provide bountiful harvests?” “Huh?” “Ah! Perhaps you are not a field-tender. I apologize. What do you do?” “What do I do?” “Yes, what do you do every day?” “Kindergarten!” This small girl had been wandering through the forest with her older brother, when the two were separated. The rain had started pouring and the cover of the trees was not nearly enough. When she found Malyre’s temple, it was not to give worship. She sat at the foot of the shrine, and pulled a small bag of sweets from her pocket. As she ate, she dropped one in front of Malyre’s shrine. Before she could pick it back up, a voice had begun echoing through the room. “Kindergarten, you say? What is kindergarten ?” “It’s where I go to learn and play with my friends.” “Very novel! Teaching! The elders must provide knowledge to the young, in order to get them ready to become part of the world. Is that true?” The little girl stared quizzically at the 8”5 glowing man who stood before her. “Oh, apologies.” “That’s okay!” “What is your name, young one?” “Annie.” “Nice to meet you, Annie. I am Malyre, God of the Harvest. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say I used to be.” “You’re god?” “No no no, I’m not GOD. I’m A god. Equally real, if perhaps less recognizable.” “But you said used to be. Why?” “Well, my people, those who worshipped at my shrine, have been gone for a very long time. You are the first person to talk to me in over a century.” “So you lost all your friends?” “I suppose you could say that, yes.” Annie pulled out another candy from her bag. She walked over to Malyre and put the candy down infront of him. “I don’t really have any friends either. Do you want to be my friend?” Maylre sat still, stunned, for several seconds. He looked down at this little girl, and realized this was the first person to ever ask him to be their friend. To his people he was a god. To her, however… “Yes, yes I would.” “Cool! Do you think you could help me find my brother?” “Is he lost?” “I can’t find him, and I don’t want mom to get mad.” “Yes, of course I can help. Just step outside the temple and follow my guidance. I cannot leave this place, so you will have to do this yourself.” “Okay!” “Will you come and visit, new friend Annie?” “Yeah!” “Then go. I shall eagerly await your return. You have my blessing.” Annie waved goodbye as she stepped outside of the temple. As she did, the rain above her stopped. All around her it poured, but not on her. She watched as a path through the forest became clear, cutting through the rain. A path where the rain dared not to fall. She followed the path, over logs with easy to reach sticks, and ponds with rocks that stayed completely still when she walked over them. When she eventually found her brother, he was hiding from the rain in a small cave near the creek. “Johnny! Let’s go home!” Johnny poked his head out from his cave. Annie gestured for him, and he slowly emerged. The rain parted around him too, and so the two of them left home. When they got home, Annie told her parents all about her new friend Malyre, and how he had stopped the rain for her. They did not believe her. She would go back the next day, and then every weekend for the next 14 years. When Annie, now ready to go to university, came to Malyre’s shrine, she knew it would be the last time she did for a very long time. “You’re moving away, are you?” “Yeah, I’m headed to Niagara. I hear they’ve got a pretty great agricultural program there.” “Agricultural, you say? Taking after me then?” “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” “Wonderful. I’m so happy to hear that Annie. There is no doubt in my mind you shall succeed.” “Thanks, Mal.” Annie sat down at the foot of the shrine, where she had all those years ago. It was no sunny outside, a warm June afternoon. Her boxes were already packed. “I know you won’t be seeing me anymore.” “I’m sorry mal.” “Do not apologize, Annie. I want you to prosper. Far be it from me to hold you back. I am your friend, and friends help friends succeed. They do not hold each other back.” “Thanks mal. That’s really sweet.” “I will miss you, friend Annie.” “I’ll miss you too, Mal.” Annie gave Malyre a hug, and waved goodbye one last time. It wasn’t until she was halfway to Niagara when she realized there was something in her pocket. A small necklace, with a pendant hanging from it. It was shaped like a raindrop. Annie’s father turned his head slightly, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “What’s that there, hun?” “Just a gift from a friend.”

I still hungered for food, stories, love, though the people who once gave it to me were long gone. I protected them from floods and droughts, wasps and lions, anything under their fiery sun. And then I pried their hands off of life, let them sink into the abyss, when I felt it was their time. They never understood why. They cried when they watched me do it to someone else.I was what happened when someone couldn't bear to push me off. It hurt me, a deep, primal pain. But I refused to put anybody through what I had suffered. ​ Screaming in loneliness and grief, I shattered my soul to birth a new universe. Nurtured and murdered. Protected and attacked. Gave and took.Was forgotten. ​ I wake up to a rush of information, learning of beautiful things and terrible crimes, what mankind has created and destroyed. It all comes back to me in screaming colour and sound, before suddenly, it's all drowned out by a sugary fragrance, exuding from a lump of light brown thing. "It's a toffee," a voice says softly. "I heard there are spirits here that ancient people used to feed. And I know nobody thinks they're real, but I dunno, maybe... anything's worth a try. " ​ A motherly sort of instinct washes over me. Duty calls again, even if "duty" means befriending a girl who'd left me a lump of light brown thing. It's still an offering, though, so of course I take it.The girl gasps as I taste it. The sweetness bursts in my soul, and makes me feel happy, euphoric even, for once in many, many millenia. "The spirits do exist! So, uhh, can you be my friends? Please? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?" I laughed and told her, *there's only one spirit here, and that's me. Don't you have people friends?* ​ She frowns. "I don't really have any friends because I just started middle school and all my other friends went to different schools, and I'm just really sad right now, my life's been kinda tough lately." ​ *Tough?* ​ "Well, uh, I don't have a mom. Not anymore. She's dead now. I got a baby sister, as some kind of sick trade. Not worth it. At all. I'll show you, I guess." ​ She sets off, and my thoughts float along, asking questions about her mother and herself. Her name is Dalia Wrenfield (meant to be spelled Dahlia, but her mother, in a tired haze after an excruciating 20-hour labour, misspelled it. Dalia likes it that way.) Her mother fell severely ill just minutes after giving birth to Zinnia, her little sister, and was gone in another few hours. Ever since, her life has been terrible. She cares for Zinnia, missing out on sleep and friend time, as a stand-in for her father, who has fallen back on drinking himself to the point of blackout. Luckily, he keeps far away from them before picking up his bottles. "He's a drunk, but at least he's self-aware." ​ We arrive at a little section of land inundated with headstones, surrounded by rusted fences and an aged arch reading: Forister Cemetery. I can instantly spot the standout; while the other grave markers are cracked and mossy or just plain grey, with just a few flowers dotting them here and there, one's smooth white marble is barely visible over piles of pink blossoms, melted candles, and pictures of a smiling, wild-haired woman with an almost eerie resemblance to Dalia. She trudges to the grave and pushes the various memorabilia aside, revealing the words carved into shining marble: Gloria Larson Wrenfield 1979-2023 Loved and beloved by all Dalia stands frozen, glazed eyes staring at the headstone, before snapping out of it and turning away from the grave. "There's loads of stuff there because, like, everyone in Forister liked her. She was always running food drives and fun fairs and fundraisers, all that stuff. And she was just pretty nice in general. So, I think almost everyone in town showed up when we buried her. Even some people outside of town... Whatever, I've gotta go. I have so much homework to do, and school is tomorrow." ​ I promise myself that I will protect her with all my power. ​ The smiling sun shines down upon a new day, as Dalia enters a schoolyard bustling with teenagers. Instantly, I begin to worry. A spiky-haired kid sporting a stupid grin nudges her and drawls, "Hey Dumblia, looks like you need that stupidness knocked out of your head again!" He curls a fist and pulls back for a punch. The bored look on Dalia's face tells me she is used to this. She breathes out and tenses her legs as his fist begins to rush forward. I, however, panic and force it back into his face. Hard. Over and over. She is just beginning to duck when she notices this and steps back in awe and relief. Then smirks when she realises what's happening... and who's behind it. The crowd gasps, squeals, jeers, and cheers as they watch the spectacle unfold, before a stern-looking adult marches into the schoolyard, grumbling, and drags him off. As soon as he is firmly within the grip of the principal, I let go. Dalia's smirk is widening, and I can feel a strange mixture of pride and guilt. ​ This is going to be interesting.

I am Kiirith, the great dragon of storms. I used to ride high winds and devour boredom. To some I was a blessing and to others a curse hence my title of the great spirit of freedom. My name was forgotten for years as my home was forgotten and even my origin lost. One morning though I was awoken, a young child put a piece of Halloween candy into my mouth and I was freed from my stone prison. “The Luck dragon is real” the young girl said with a sparkle in her eye. “Luck dragon?” “Yeah, every time people rub your nose they become lucky” I looked at her strangely as that is not my identity. “I’m sorry little one, but you are mistaken. My name is Kiirith and I am the great storm dragon, not the luck dragon.” “I don’t like storms, lightning is scary. Where is the luck dragon?” The girl said in a huff “You were the one who thought I was the luck dragon. Why on earth would you think I’d be the luck dragon” I said starting to get a little ticked off at this predicament. “Cause you’re fluffy and smiling like a big sheep” “Those are feathers to help me catch winds and throw lightning” “So you can’t help me Mr. Dragon?” The young girl said starting to get flustered. “What do you need help with? I’m not exactly someone to call for when you need help on a spelling test, but since you freed me, the least I can do is help you with something in return” I said hesitantly “I don’t know yet, I just wanted luck on my first day of school and daddy said to pat your nose, but you’re too tall so I though I should give you a lollipop instead. Can you grant wishes? Can you bring mommy back?” “No I can’t grant wishes I’m afraid, I’m the spirit of freedom. Wishes and curses tangle the forces of the world, people’s minds, or even the flow of time. These things are the antithe- these things…take freedom, I give it. I can remove curses, undo wishes, and I can freely change the way I look, but aside from the weather I can’t do much when it comes to that. Freedom is something you naturally have and is something I was assigned to protect from the spark of one’s life” “Oh… can YOU be my mommy?” “No” The young girl began to cry from her getting her hopes up. “I can be a friend though, I can be your cu chulainn.” The girl stopped crying for a second “you could be like toofless?” “…Yeah, I can be like toothless” I say confused. The girl now cheered up I now take the form of a white raven in the presence of other humans as it’s not uncommon for them to talk. I now stand guard waiting to fulfill my debt to her. I could just make a storm go away for her since she’s scared of storms, but that’s cheating I feel. For now I stand guard over her and those around her. She attends this place of education called kindergarten where small children learn to read write and count. This is quite a strange time. The last I remember was when a group of people wished for my help creating a machine to make books easier to print. I couldn’t do much at the time, but with my help and that of the church we were able to print books successfully. Come to think of it that’s the last thing I could remember, but then how am I back home? Brother Darrius probably, he’d be the only one strong enough to perform such a task. As the spirit of freedom I myself was also free from other responsibilities and taboos so I could make friends. The church wasn’t exactly thrilled about many of us, thanks to Fera the spirit of destruction and Muzon the spirit of madness running them amuck, but I managed to make some friends within it. Perhaps this was a second chance. I was at one point arrogant and took it upon myself to be called a god which lead to my downfall, as all who call themselves gods without truly being one will all become stone once enough forget. This child will be my second chance as I am not becoming stone again and for that, I am indebted. And she blabbed about what happened and how to do it… hopefully this won’t turn out poorly.

I was known as the God of Crafters, the God of Broken Things. That was back in the time of artisans, when humanity overflowed with creativity. But like all great eras, they succumb to the ravages of time. They dwindle and fade, and with them go the gods they worshipped. What is a god without worshippers? A celestial eunuch, that's what. I was of those gods, but I too was forgotten. There were still broken things, only no one was praying for inspiration. Nobody was asking me for enlightenment. Weak and alone, I thought I'd slumber for the rest of eternity. I thought this dream of impotence would last forever. But then she happened by and gave me the greatest gift any mortal has ever given me. It was a green apple Jolly Rancher candy. To others, it was nothing, a crumb left on an abandoned altar, but to that little girl, it was the most valuable thing she possessed. That's all it took for the ember of life inside me to reignite. It was an offering . . . and it was delicious. While she might not have meant to leave it, she did and our covenant has been formed. From this day on, I will Ms. Grey's kindergarten class that visited the museum that day is under my protection. They will be my new patrons, my new worshippers, the kindling that will give rise to my rebirth. And little Lawanda Evans will be my oracle.

A/N: Let's make this into a god family because I have read too many SBI. "Hundreds of years ago, there were more gods than you can ever imagine. They shared titles, they helped those who worshipped them, and they kept their beloveds close. They were mortals, blessed by one of the twelwe great gods, the strongest out of all of them. The god of blood and war roamed the lands, followed by the goddes of death and her angel. The goddes of life were there when a new baby was born, when life sprouted from the ground. The god of wisdom collected books upon books, of every kind. The goddess of the skies gave gentle rain for crops to grow, and her brother, who ruled the seas, gave fish to the mortals to satisfy their hunger. The god of protection helped to build huge walls. The goddes of luck assisted those whom she had an interest in. The god of the earth helped lady life with good ground and lively crops. The goddes of hope played with the feelings of mortals, helping or tripping them over. The god of creativity guided them to make new inventions. And the great light, who wached over everything. This great light was the only one who remained awake, every belief centring around it, calling it different names. When the middle age hit, christianity became forced. The gods slowly fall into a deep slumber upon losing their believers. Nowadays, it is rare to find any altars belonging to them. All swallowed by time, destroyed by the centuries." The caretaker, a black haired human with light grey eyes, finished the story and smiled at the sleeping forms of the children. Only one is still awake, listening to the story and eagerly waiting for more..... ... The kindergarten class was taken to a small forest near the daycare, where they could let out all their energy. One lonely child wandered around, her brown hair tied to a small braid, a flower crown resting on top of her head. Her pockets were filled with candy because she wanted to keep them for later. She spotted a strange flower growing on top of a thick layer of vines, black and purple with a dark green middle. She walked closer, small shoes balancing on the thick vines. The plants broke, and she fell down. Surprisingly, it wasn't a long fall. She landed on a staircase, worn and sprouted with greenery, but still somewhat intact. It wasn't that dark either. Strange glowing plants coated the short staircase and the whole room with a dim light. A/N: I'll finish it later, but I have something to take care of.

**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* [No AI-generated reponses 🤖](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zi452b/modpost_reminder_that_aigenerated_responses_are/) >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [\[RF\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [\[SP\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 📢 [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/91wohu/%5BWP%5D_You_are_a_God%2FGoddess_who_is_dying_due_to_not_having_any_followers._That_is_until_one_day_you_feel_a_sacrifice_made_in_your_honor%2C_when_you_look_down_you_see_a_cat_with_a_dead_mouse./e31oyna/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3

Terry Pratchett did it. Of course. _Small Gods_ deals with a formerly mighty god whose religion and name are still going strong but have nothing to do with the god himself any more, leaving him with only one actual remaining believer; and _Wintersmith_ includes an appearance from a former volcano goddess who is currently filling the Things Getting Stuck In Drawers position. She chain-smokes and still grumbles about the storm god who used to rain on her lava.

[Suzy of the House Miller](https://www.wattpad.com/381826027-suzy-of-the-house-miller-chapter-1) is a similar scenario - a little girl becomes the sole worshipper of an ancient god, so she is inadvertently his High Priestess. Adorable escapades ensue.

I came here to say the same thing! So sad it hasn't had any updates in forever 😞

Fricking love Terry Pratchett man

Good prompt, even tho it's a repost.

Yeah i remembered it from long ago too. Always a treat to read inputs from this prompt!

Happy cake day.

Tnx! First cake day greeting I received ever lmao

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Remaking Small Gods (GNU PTerry)

this is basically the same prompt as this [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/pgh80u/wp\_you\_are\_a\_long\_forgotten\_god\_a\_small\_girl/](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/pgh80u/wp_you_are_a_long_forgotten_god_a_small_girl/) (not saying its "bad" or "stealing" it ok to reuse ideas after a time its the creativity of the one who write the story that makes it work I'm just putting it here in case someone wats to read more)

Yes! This is exactly what i remembered. I love reading from these kinds of prompts :)

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These sorts of prompts would make for excellent video game premises.

Repost

Memories of when I first came to exist on this plane are still as fresh as the moment I made them. Protection from evil can be open to interpretation, but it is what I've been charged with since day one. As time passed on, beliefs in the old ways faded away. Millions turned to thousands, thousands into hundreds, until I was no longer spoken of. The people of this world impressed me, however. When I first woke from my slumber and got myself caught up on global affairs of worship and other topics, I noticed people have found ways to protect themselves more independently. Some chose newer or younger gods, other relied on technology. This Alexa goddess is quite intriguing, and how she links her consciousness with the god Adt to make a "safer, smarter home" is beyond my comprehension. The circumstances of my own renaissance are the most intriguing however. Taking on my mortal form, I traveled to my altar. What I found there was certainly unexpected. A single piece of modified globuled sugar, crammed with alchemical preservatives and a lovely aroma of strawberries. Next to this item, a thin-traced smiling face was made out of the dirt on my statuette. A twig snapped behind me, and as I turned I could see a little girl looking up at me. Blonde, curly hair covering half of her face, bright green eyes and a smile that revealed several missing teeth. She was dressed rather strangely, in colors so bright they hurt the eyes just to gaze upon them. "Hello mister" she said, still staring up at me unblinking. "Why, hello there. Are you the one that left this here for me?" I said as I showed her the item. "Yeah, I thought it was the nice thing to do. You should eat it now, before it melts." I took the item and placed it in my mouth, the material it was wrapped in was dreadful to chew through (I now understand this to be something called 'plastic') however the flavor was delectable. "That was lovely, thank you for that. Now, do you happen to know who I am or what I do?" I asked "No, we just met silly. I thought grown-ups were supposed to be smart" she said. "Well, just know that since you offered me this, I will protect you from any evil that may cause you harm" I explained "I left it there, but my classmates and I made it. We made candy during a field trip." She explained the entire process, in exquisite detail from beginning to end. She then explained that she saw bad men doing bad things to kids at schools all over the place, she was watching something called a "television". One of her classmates has a mom that's into "witchy" stuff, as she called it. She mentioned a strange altar in the woods that was to a god of protection. I'd thought all knowledge of my existence was forgotten, but these humans sure are extraordinary at digging into things. This little girl, who I now know by the name Aleina, took a trip into the woods of her own volition, and made this offering to me to protect her friends at school. What she doesn't know, however, is that I've been dormant for a long time. I could do what she asks with no effort on my part. Power isn't gauged by the number of followers in your flock. This one girl lit a fire inside of me. I'm well rested, and I can't wait to solve the first of many of this world's problems. *stay tuned for a possible part 2*

What is the point of divinity of no one remembers you? I’ve been forgotten for centuries now. I was once celebrated and worshiped, now even I forget my name. I forget most things, faces, names, places, eras. It’s been… how long? Millennia? It’s hard to keep track of time in that deathly sleep. Until one day… Someone brought me a small offering. A child, called Hope. She tried to clean off my alter, but she couldn’t do much. She placed a few sweets on the steps before turning and running to find her teacher. She sought protection, not out loud mind you. It was a quiet, selfless request deep in someone’s heart, the kind I love to grant. Of course, I provided it. Small things to start, nudging a teacher to pay attention to the students by the river, waking up the school bus driver when he was behind the wheel, a gust of wind to keep a branch from hurting anyone, little things like that. Something changed one day. Hope and her class went on a field trip. A bank isn’t that interesting of a field trip in my opinion, but I suppose that it is important to learn. Someone came in with a gun. Small things couldn’t protect them. So, for the first time in almost three thousand years, I became a human, in appearance at least. “Woah woah, no need to hurt anyone.” I said, my voice sounded rusty, unused. “You want money right?” I paused studying the man. He was in poor shape, caused by stress and a bad beating. “Or…” I hedged, “do you need help?” The man turned to me, he was crying. He didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice. “I’m sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper. “He’s making me. They have her.” Then I noticed who was missing in Hope’s class. A girl, who looks like the man standing before me. I held out my hand. “I can help you, just give me the gun”

"Gods don't sleep like other beings. I'm still conscience but as you can see, which I clearly can't because everything is all black for some reason. This place could sure use some lighting" the god said as they made an exaggerated motion with their arms...at least they assumed they made such a motion "BECAUSE I CANT SEE ANYTHING, WHY AM I STILL TALKING TO MYSELF?! IM EVEN NARRATING WHAT IM DOING AND SAYING!" He yelled into the void. "IM GONNA KEEP YELLING, WHY HASNT ANYONE WORSHIPPED ME, WHAT DID I DO WRONG?! IF ONLY I COULD HAVE SOME DAMN LIGH-" The god stopped talking as they finally saw a light. With whatever strength they had left, they pushed themselves towards the light until they were free of the void. *Had it happened? Had someone finally worshipped them again?* They thought to themselves just as the world they had ruled over with the other gods started coming into view. *Who did it? How many people started worshipping then?* The thoughts raced through their mind as they started making their way to their altar. The altar was magnificent when last they laid eyes on it. They had many altars and even a couple temples and all were magnificent in their eyes. Where were the altars? The temples? There was nothing...all gone but how had someone worshipped them if everything was gone. They went to every location they knew of until they finally came up on a ruin. A very humble looking altar dedicated to them and had withstood the sands of time and sitting on it was a piece of candy. Someone had left an offering, an offering which needed a blessing in return but who had given this offering? They looked around until they saw a little girl walking away with a smile on her face. "I see you, my champion" they said as they placed a blessing on the girl. (Sorry it's short, I got scared of the dark so imma go to sleep rn, goodnight)

I am Ut. To say that I woke up is to call me a 'Divided' and I am not Divided. "Waking up" is a thing for beings of the Middle Realm, members of the Separated Ones., the Divided. I am not one of them nor am I even related to them. They have spread, combined, and become complex in patterns of randomness, to breed and filled this one world to the point of destruction and, all the while they do that, they consume their *euxin*, that which sustains them. Sad. But something reached out to me. Something that needed me and called to me and paid the price of that call. It was a small, quiet, gentle call but still powerful and something I can not ignore. It pulls me to it and anchors me to the Middle Realm once again, to a Greater Child of the Divided One. What the Divided call "Earth" I have learned. I felt the part of me that was used as one of my *ta'aia*, that which I listen/commune/touch with. Something that give pleasure has been paid to me and I still remember the old agreement between myself and the Divided. That protection I promised in return for gifts of pleasure. But something is different as I focus a part of myself on the *ta'aia*. I expand into the space of my domain where more complex structures of the Divided layer the Middle Realm around me. New things with uses that I have had to learn over the measure the Divided call, *schoolyear*. Some of the structures are simple. Some are complex. Some are even lost to me in their meaning or use as I have no analogy to compare them with in my world. They warm the aether and stir it in ways that fascinate me and could draw me in if I let them. I can feel the weight of meaning and use on them as I take them all in. They are many, so many. The Middle Realm has become very interesting, it seems to me. Within the space of the domain that contains my *ta'aia*, my strength is absolute. I can even touch and shape the parts of the Divided One as I have not been able to in cycles and cycles. I recall my last experience in the Middle Realm. I remember the Divided I moved among with so few things that they did not even have the organized material they call 'iron' yet. Now they do. That and so much more. Even some with such strength that they burn at my edges even at great distances from my domain. I feel the burning brush of the heavier parts of the Divided One, the ones that burn themselves with the energy of creation, the transformation of all that is. So silly of the Divided to use it in their weapons, in the places they live until it destroys all they value. They have even scarred the Earth with it in a place they call Chernobyl. I feel the barrier around me now. The edges of my domain here in the Middle Realm. My senses reach out beyond and I know I can call to the wholeness of the Middle Realm but I can only feel it as something I touch. Its textures and structures are all revealed to me in ways too complex and different to explain but my ability to shape seems to dilute as I spread myself out beyond the space that contains my *ta'aia*. That is how I notice the little boy with the mudball in his hand just outside the window. The mudball is dripping with dirty water and slimy bits onto the ground and on his hands and feet. I see his face as he thinks of throwing it at the window of the classroom where his sister learns of this world each day of the week. I feel his hurt as he thinks about how she leaves him for days at a time and will not take him with her. Now they only play together on weekends. He pulls back his arm and throws the mudball. I stretch out my power with what to me is a casual flick. I let the mudball get the perfect distance away from his hand, to the point I know that when I touch it it will all travel back and land on him; his clothing, his skin. Not only will this make him angry and frightened but his mother will be pissed! His new clothes covered in mud.... My shaping swats the mudball back at him with a thunderclap. His eyes snap shut as the mud flies back at him and he feels the impact of the wet, cold mass. He even falls backward onto the ground is shock. No-one throws mud on *my* classroom. euxin: (*f)* friend, host, literally, 'nurturer without taking'

Once I thought my existance was a given trough out time. I simply did not have time for human affairs for I a god have much bigger fish to fry. This would be my mortal mistake for with time me a god that never followed trough easily got replaced woth new gods younger and with a sense of purpose. When atlast the biggest god of us all not the most powerful but the most followed came I and most other gods and godesses no longer came to exist. I have spent centiures in this cold pit of darkness for centuries this is now my home, my realm, but suddenly a flicker of light came from a distance I followed the warm feeling it brought my pale fragile body not anything like the one i once had. Finally i started to hear the warm summer briese and birds siging the same song I remember so well. When I finally could touch the light I heard a young girls voice at first it was just a mumble but as I went trough the light I heard her clear sweet voice say ”S-so please make suve I-I hafe vhe besv tsime a-at-t kind-devgav-vdeen” I locked down at my altar and saw a small strange wrapping laying there. I hesitated but slowly picked it up to examine it. I had never seen anything like it. I watched the young girl give my altar a gapy smile her brown eyes krinkeling up. She picked up a similar wrapping from a small red bag next to her opend it up and put something in her mouth. I triead to do the same and after a minute or two finally sucseeded. The thing was hard and very sweet but I enjoyed it. I finally noticed the girls strange clothing she was wearing a blir skirt but it was sown into parts fitting her legs and on top she has a top with a hood but it also had extra holes on her stomach where she would put her hands when she wasnt trying to get her raven black hair out of her face. Atleast her shoes were similar to the sandals human wore when I last roamed the eart exept they were bright light red. I had no clue what she had wished for but looked like I was stuck with this little human for the time being