Gotterdammerung: Lost Chariots of the gods…
Somewhere south of seventh heaven, north of the ninth ring of hell is in an undisclosed location in the next world. It’s the abode of forlorn, forsaken gods. Once they commanded worship, sacrifice and devotion of countless acolytes.
Now, they sit in the dustbin of religious history.
Zeus is boltless, baffled. Baal bewildered. Thor is flummoxed. Quetzalcoatl’s feathers are ruffled. Horus is mummified by it all, a fallen falconcrest.
Sun gods-too numerous to mention–bask belligerently in a post-twilight world.
“We didn’t change with the times. All those interloper gods came along. And some of you guys took human sacrifice too far—you know who you are, “said Zeus.
“He’s always upbraiding me for those burnt children,” muttered Baal.
“I get it all the time too—a few virgin girls tossed in cenotes,” said some forgotten Mayan deity. “Seemed to increase average annual rainfall. How was I to know meteorology—it hadn’t been invented. I only claimed to be a god, not an omniscient one. Why we invented a calendar ending in 2012 is beyond me. Didn’t pan out, but we got a few dopes convinced it was another Y2K. Created some interest, but that’s over.”
“Maybe some of us did ride the cutting edge too long. I was quite partial to burnt offerings,” said Baal.
Like his old, overzealous self, Zeus pontificated, “We should have evolved. One of my sons made the transition. Hermes is clever. When he saw the way the wind was blowing, he started delivering flowers instead of my messages. He still has an earthly following.”
The now godless nodded.
The gods must be crazy.
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