December 19, 2016 by Alfonso Acosta
103 – Forgotten
He was beginning to wonder if he had the wrong date. It was impossible, of course… and yet, here he was, sitting by himself on a huge empty table.
The waiter was making his best effort not to look at him with embarrassed pity and failing miserably. It was not particularly unrighteous, but terribly annoying. He paid the check, leaving a tip just tantalizing enough to make it painful when it would spontaneously erase itself from the voucher sometime during the day.
It was cold outside the little Italian restaurant, fresh gray snow covered the sidewalks. But he needed to think, so he decided to walk anyway.
It wasn’t like them at all to simply not show up, they had so few opportunities to meet outside the strict protocol. No, something was definitely wrong. He would have to use the door.
He found the small secluded clearing in the middle of the park. It was a perfect circle, surrounded by thirteen ordinary looking stones. His finger drew a complex symbol in the air and disappeared.
The stench hit him immediately, a pungent miasma filling the darkness around him. “– Light!” He said, and the darkness obediently crawled away from him. He wasn’t prepared for what the clarity revealed.
All the gods were dead! Their rotting corpses, still sitting on their thrones, looked at him with empty eyes.
A soft moan called his attention. One of the decomposing forms was still moving, its sunken eyes holding a tiny spark of life.
“– What happened here? Who did this!?” He demanded from the crumbling thing. A weak voice spoke directly into his head.
“– We… died…” was the simple answer. Like everything around him, it made no sense at all.
“– That’s impossible! You are all immortals, and I never even touched you.”
The cold eyes fixed onto his, their clouded pupils reflecting his own face. “– Not… time. The… minds… of… men.”
The voice kept getting weaker with every word.
“– We… were… forgotten. No… longer… feared. No… longer… needed… to… explain… the… world.”
“– But why am I still here then?”
“– Because… they… still… can… not… understand… death”
The head of the last god slumped forward as the faint glimmer of life vanishing from its eyes.
“– They… still… fear… you.”
Everything was silent.
He was alone, the rest of his kind slowly being drained back into the void.
His work, if necessary, was never pleasant. It was now going to be a lonely one also.
Shedding a single tear, death closed the door forever, and walked out of the stone circle that had never been there.