writing-prompt-s:
You’re a deity of something small and seemingly unimportant. You’re the first one the people stop praying and sacrificing to when things get dire. Oh, what fools they are.
…Fools, indeed.
For a long time, A small village praised me, claiming I brought good luck. That’s all. No more, no less. They chalked their good fortune up to good luck, and they chalked their good luck up to me. It was a quiet village, full of naught but elders, as well as their kin. Overall, I would wager that there was around 6 total bloodlines Inhabiting the village. The oldest nearing their final breaths, the youngest, no older than three or four years of age. You lose track of some numbers when you’ve been watching over a village for as long as I have.
Of course, a deity cannot protect a village forever, especially not one of luck and good fortune, such as I; or, that’s what they believed, anyways. And, sure enough, with their beliefs… they were right.
Destruction. Carnage. Livestock were carried away, buildings were destroyed. Luckily, everyone was safe… of course, they didn’t thank me for that. I’m naught but a minor god. A deity to be taken for granted, used for good luck in games of gambling between old adventurers and con men. So, as the town began to rebuild… people stopped coming to visit me. My once quaint altar became damaged and dilapidated by the weather. Fewer and fewer people came to pray to me, until one day, nobody came at all. It was a sad existence…
… oh, for me? No. I didn’t mind taking a small rest. Miserable, it was indeed, for the people of the village. Try as they might, their village had been taking beating after beating by the effects of the weather. And when it wasn’t, their crops would be burnt to a crisp by harsh draughts, leading them to spend their luckily earned money on fresh water and food from a neighbouring town. Some of the young adults went off to find adventure, to bring good fortune back to our town. Of course, they left the young in the care of the elders, though it oft felt the other way around. Elders, especially the able bodied ones, sending mere children out to the forest, just to find something to eat!
… okay, so perhaps I gifted the young a plentiful harvest of sweet berries once in awhile. Could you truly blame me?
Ah, apologies. I’m getting off track. In spite of doing everything they could, the village continued to be beat down by the environment surrounding them, and the people continued to forget as much as my name.
That was until rather recently, anyways… it had been a long time since I had heard the sound so close, yet it was unmistakable.
“Er… I’m unsure if you still reside here, or if you remember me.” Of course I do, I would say. Of course, mere mortals would always be unable to understand my voice. I am the whistling of the wind. I am the crickets chirping in the night.
“Ahaha… how crazy must I sound, praying to a god that hasn’t been heard of in ten years…” had it truly been that long? My dear, I had never forgotten your voice.
“Well!” Well. Well well well. That word rang through, as she accidentally said it just a little too loud. Of course I remember her. Just an orphan, she had told me. She would always bring a loaf of bread, and tear some off, handing it to me. My altar, anyways. She would talk, and talk, and talk. Never wishing for anyone. I always wondered why… perhaps she thought I was lonely. Still, there she stood, the same toothy grin on her face as all those years ago. Oh, how I longed to hear her voice once more. She was one of my favourites. She asked nothing but to listen, which I would so gladly do. I would hear tales of other children in the village, of a newcomer, of a shady looking salesman… of the village’s downfall. She was the last to inform me, as if I hadn’t seen it all happen in real time.
And yet… here she was, once again. Both of our names worn away to the other by time, leaving naught but a sense of familiarity. She sat down once more, in her same spot. It was a particularly hot day, so I allowed a breeze to momentarily cool her off. I’m unsure if she knows it was me. And, with no more than a moment’s notice, she began talking. Telling me stories of adventurers. Grandiose treasure. Ways the elders had made up to entertain the new younglings. It was… rather nice, I must admit. As if meeting with an old friend once more.
I lost count of how many hours had been spent. The young girl, now blossoming into a beautiful young lady, told me all sorts of stories. Of bravery, heroism. Stories of who was previously the young transforming into brave knights, working to restore honour to their accursed village. Nothing worked, but they still persisted, no matter what. It was admirable, if not a little foolish.
“…Deity of luck, if I could make one request, after all of these years?” Oh? This was certainly interesting… though, I suppose I could grant her one wish. One selfish desire, after all this time… not so bad. A few leaves fell from a tree, landing on her lap.
“Aha… I will take that as a yes. My only wish, Is that the young are taken care of. More and more parents are leaving to find glory, leaving their young children here, alone, to fend for themselves. I do not want them to want like I have. To starve like I have. Please, if nothing else… protect them. Ensure they always have enough to eat.”
…this girl. This… infuriatingly wonderful girl. The purest heart I have ever seen, in all my years of seeing over this village, and that’s what she asks? It made me laugh. My laugh boomed across the forest. The sound of a tree falling in the distance. Of course. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from this human. Still, I couldn’t disappoint my little… Ah, of course. I cannot remember her name. How unfortunate.
“…well, that’s all. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? Promise!” She insisted to me, standing up once more, and taking her leave.
Sure enough… she did. Day after day. Occasionally, she would bring other children by. Ones who had been left without parents. The dangers of the trade, I suppose. Regardless, they would tell me stories as well, just as she had. Some were so clearly made up, I couldn’t help but reward their creativity with a plentiful berry harvest the next day. They didn’t question the food suddenly appearing, nor would they question the same bush not being there the next day.
Days, weeks, months passed. Soon, it wasn’t just the young coming by, and sharing their stories. I didn’t receive much in the way of offerings anymore, but I was okay with that. I received something much better. Stories. Words.
Hope.
And in some way, I like to think I granted the villagers Hope once more as well. No, the weather didn’t change much, not at first. What changed was how much work the villagers were willing to put in. No, it wasn’t me that granted them bountiful harvests, it never was. I was nothing more than something to believe in. A god of good luck and fortune. So of course, when all seemed lost, the village’s morale was crushed. They thought I had failed them, or maybe they had always thought I was only good for petty luck. A game of dice, a day off from schooling. However… I was no longer the god of luck. That name slowly faded away. The village slowly rebuilt, finding new and improved ways to work around the harsh conditions they found themselves in. And, of course, they would always come by and sit down. Tell me about what was going on, as if I didn’t already know. They even went as far as to have my monument rebuilt, more beautiful than it had ever been. True, people stopped praying to the god of good luck and fortune. They were fools.
Just as foolish as those who came to me every day, wasting hours away telling me about their lives. It was an admirable sort of foolishness, I had to admit. I enjoyed the company. I enjoyed meeting new travellers, whom the children insisted had to meet “their best friend”.
… no, I was no longer the god of fortune and luck. I had picked up several new names, however. The god of stories. The god of friendships. The god of bringing people together (that one was always a little wordy to me.), However, I think my favourite title, created by those fools, those wonderful, wonderful fools…
I was now known to be the god of community. And I would protect the community I had watched fall and rise once more, so long as they continued to recant me with their lovely tales.
