Young Writers Society

Home » Literary works » Short Story » Spiritual

E - Everyone

In the life of a god

by Corvus

It was a Monday, I do believe, when I was created. Some prophet wrote a book, and into existence I came like an incredibly confused spark. I was a fantasy dreamed in the mind of a delusional person, a mere idea manifested into an entity. (Or at least, I think I am an entity, but I may never be sure, as I was created to be difficult to understand, and I am no exception to that). I was a little shocked at my sudden becoming, after all, I hadn't even known that existence was an option until that day. I must admit the transfer from non-existence into existence can be quite jarring, but I digress.

I sat alone, in an empty realm, swarms of newly created truth filling my consciousness like mildly agitated bees. They said I was indescribable, so I shall remain undescribed (although I assume my appearance was at least vaguely human-shaped). My prophet was an interesting fellow, but with a tendency to put too much credence in my “Divine Powers” as the universe's ultimate creator. Whether I did create the universe I didn’t know, but my realm was filling rather quickly, and I assumed I should figure that out first.

I spent the better half of two years setting up my realm. I think I was supposed to be judgmental, and I do believe I failed in that regard, as it is difficult to judge when one achieves completely objectivity. It is odd that I could differ from how I was created, but as more people learned of me, so many versions of me existed in their minds that I was granted some form of free will. Prayers were a strange thing to get used to, no sooner had one person prayed for something then another prayed for the opposite, and it all grew terribly confusing quite quickly. My realm ended up looking quite a bit like earth, but bigger with less politics and more trees, as this seemed to be an improvement according to general consensus.

Somewhere around year fifty, I learned of the others. although I suppose I already knew, it just hadn’t seemed all that important. By this time I had grown from a small cult to a full-on religion, with most of the countryside devoted to my worship. Eventually, the others came to check up on me, welcoming me to the rapidly expanding group. For the number of gods in the heavens, there really wasn’t much conflict, the widespread agreement being that each celestial being was to take care of their own followers, and was not to tamper with the other worshipers.

Time tread ever onward like a wildebeest in migration, and things changed. My realm grew, and thriving cities of angelic priests and worshipers rose from the ground, filled with the souls of those that wished to remain in my realm. Some wanted to be reborn, and I didn’t argue, after all, I was only what they dreamed me to be.

Death was a nice enough fellow. They were one of the oldest beings in the universe, but even they had not witnessed the beginning. We had struck up quite a friendship over the years, and we often went out for tea once and a wile when we were both on the surface. They were an agent of many domains, and one of the most powerful deities. Death was particularly omnipotent, even for a god, being able to project themselves into as many places as necessary.

Death had been the one to introduce me to shape shifting. You see, many people believe in death, so many forms of them exist. Of these forms they can pick and choose as they wish. This law applies to all deities, and i had gotten slightly tired of existing in an indescribable body, so I opted for a change. the form I ended up with was a feminine one, with blue tattoos and a flowing purple sundress.

My realm was expanding quite a bit, and I filled the space with vast forests and unexplored canions. The residents seemed to approve of these changes, and the citys spread to compensate. by then it had been over a thousand years; my prophet lay buried in the earth by my first church, but I lived on. Time marches ever forward, and as I near my the end of my second millennium, i can only hope for many more to come.

Note: You are not logged in, but you can still leave a comment or review. Before it shows up, a moderator will need to approve your comment (this is only a safeguard against spambots). Leave your email if you would like to be notified when your message is approved.

Is this a review?



User avatar
264 Reviews

Points: 2924
Reviews: 264

Mon Aug 12, 2019 8:43 pm
Horisun wrote a review...

I loved this! I find it absolutely hilarious that God called the first person who worshipped him delusional!
I have always wondered about that too, when two people pray for two completely different things. I like how you brought it up here!
One thing that I noticed is that you didn't uppercase the i's in some areas. Thought I'd point that out.
I really liked this story! I look forward to reading more from you! Keep writing!

User avatar
108 Reviews

Points: 13147
Reviews: 108

Mon Aug 12, 2019 5:42 am
Asith wrote a review...

I love speculative fiction like this! Yours is a really fun concept - just the type of thing I enjoy reading too.

The beginning of the story is something I noted to be very strong. I love the casual tone; I love the dry wit and lightly-biting satire (the God calling his own creator a delusional person was brilliant). I really love how blatantly the God expresses confusion towards his existence - the very thing that humans created Gods to attempt to explain.
Your use of phrases like "incredibly confused spark" and "swarms of newly created truth filling my consciousness" really compliment this type of short story. They're vague enough to be existential without sounding forced - it really sets the tone of speculative fiction.

I found myself being confused as to what the "realm" of the God is. At first I thought it was his personal realm of existence, but then it appeared to be the realm of influence that his worshippers lived in? If the God created the realm for his followers, then it begs the question of what it had been like before the prophet created him. It's just a little too vague, a better explanation could really help.

Additionally, if I may be so bold, I found the final quarter of the story lacking in general - particularly the parts after Death is introduced. Death himself is a strange thing to put in the story, because on my first read-through, I found myself wondering if he had destroyed the point. The key to the story is that humans created their deities with their own belief, but death is an entirely true concept that has existed for far longer than religion has. Animals know death by instinct - it cannot be something humans dreamed up. It then occurred to me that you may be talking of Death specifically as the deity, not the phenomenon, but that still leaves the question of what the deity's purpose is. Is his "realm" necessary if death itself had existed before him? It was just a strange introduction that late into the story.
However, I really adore the concept of Death being more omnipotent because of so many people believing in him. "It is odd that I could differ from how I was created, but as more people learned of me, so many versions of me existed in their minds that I was granted some form of free will" is such a wonderful idea. For this reason, I do think Death plays a striking role in the story, so perhaps removing him would not be a good solution either.

Part of me thinks the ending was slightly boring, but another part of me enjoys the description of time living on, with the God alongside, sustained by belief. The question of his realm still lingers, however.

The piece as a whole is truly great. The casual tone of the God has to be the best element - covering the epics of divinity in a layer of the mundane. A few bits need fleshing out, but it was still most enjoyable to read nonetheless. There is definitely no need to change much of the story - it's great as it is - the criticism I pointed out may seem large, but actually only affects a very small portion of the extract. The beginning, especially, is perfect.

You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot stop Spring from coming.
— Pablo Neruda