That Night I Walked as a God

That night I walked as a God. I ditched the petty pesterings of a puny world. I became huge. I strode through the stars mixing constellations, and laughing as the horoscopes jumbled, as mortals fumbled to fit the new demands of their shifted personalities. I meddled and I smited. I demanded adoration from my unworthy minions. I stood on cliff tops and called on the wind to ruffle my hair, and fire to dance at my feet. I felt no fear or doubt; logic was an abomination and I crushed all who used it. I leapt from rooftop to rooftop, omnipotent and nimble. I stared into bedrooms and living rooms, observing blasphemous and unholy ways. Knowing that this was not spying, but righteous judgement, I rained fire and brimstone from the light fittings.

And then I looked in your window and saw you eating crisps and cutting your toenails. Such tiny feet. And I knew I wanted to be a God no more.

18 thoughts on “That Night I Walked as a God

  1. wow – this was interesting – and fun – and yet there is a slight sense of the dangerous – not quiet deviant – or devious – but edgy – yes – edgy ….. and the ending – wow – that was the pin prick to deflate the balloon – lovely imagery throughout 🙂

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  2. Wonderful contrasts. I liked the mythical boastings, like those of demiurges and heroes from a thousand cultures, and the mundanity of those little things we do in private — and some of us not even in private — and how we were quite literally brought down to earth. And I like the idea that human connections matter more than megalomania. Brilliant.

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