What is the mind of a god

“-please, I beg you-”

He snorted. A large paw stretched out, landing on the source of the noise. He never heard the minuscule creature’s scream. That was over. Flipping onto his back, the creature stared up into the sky.

He was bored, that was the problem. It was a dangerous thing, a creature of ultimate power being bored. Especially for one who didn’t think of consequences for others when he acted. He was far beyond that in years. One might have said old age made one wiser. Maybe it was true, but immortality had taken caring away. Why did it matter? The rest would die in the end. The one consistency in life, for everyone but him.

Not caring was easy.

He had begun to play catch with the humans of a village. There were the occasional ones who caught him by surprise, who would amuse him. He let those live a little longer. Until they too, eventually, bored him.

He was the god of sand. None of the other immortals had wanted the desert, so he had helped himself to it. Something of his own, at last. He fell asleep in a sandstorm, sand becoming one with his fur, his fur which could have been sand. He was sand. This was where he belonged.

He could pretend he was happy. Or at least content.

Then, without ceremony, during his slumber, he was sealed away.

The inconsequential beings cheered. They had been saved from the beast! He roared in outrage within his tiny cell. They couldn’t understand the time he had lived, they couldn’t even understand the wish to contain him! His mind shook with outrage. He sunk more deeply into his torment as he attempted to break free.

It was no use. The people had been saved from their tormentor.


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