Forgotten Gods

Forgotten Gods: Broken Glass

That’s when it hits me. I know him. His face, his eyes, his smell, his…taste. It was mine. Wasn’t it? He is mine? No, this is wrong. He is wearing the wrong clothes…the man I know…knew…he wore no shirt. I’d smack him gently, laughing and demanding he wear a shirt. I didn’t want to share what was mine. I continue to search the priest’s face.

Forgotten Gods: Chaos Is Come Again, Part IIII

That’d been happening a lot of late. In place of memories warm and comforting were images that made no sense within my life, images which then became real. Like when Dash gave me that apple, and for a second, it changed. Then there was Audrey saying I had a meeting with that man Gerard and then forgetting it a second later. The thing is, these flashes almost feel more real than this so-called real life.

Forgotten Gods: The Man in Black

He nodded and left. I walked over and looked out the windows behind my desk. The sky was cloudy, the tree branches swaying in the wind. I heard a roll of thunder, followed by a lightning flash, and then it started to rain. The weather seemed to match my mood. Sighing, I turned around and stopped when I saw someone standing in the doorway.

Forgotten Gods: I Know Who I Am

“You forget who I am.”
My hand rises, and the materials in the room start to melt away, the fabrication, the ruse lifting. I sweep my hand through the house as every bit of wood, cloth, and metal it took to make it shakes and bends to my will.
“I am the Goddess of Ruin.”

Forgotten Gods: Father Cooper

I see someone else. Someone with wings, golden hair, piercing blue eyes, a golden bow and quiver in his hands. No one else on the street seems to see this. I tilt my head to the side, and the reflection follows. My hand raises, and his does as well, mimicking me. I glance down at my cassock and then back at my reflection. But he is holding the bow and arrow up, ready to let it go.

Forgotten Gods: Something’s Not Right

I stop reading, frowning at the one name that is scratched out. Like they didn’t want her to be remembered. I scratch at the paper before it hits me. A flood of images pour into my mind all at once. A man with curly blonde hair. Twins. A young girl with blonde hair that looks a lot like the man. These images smash around my brain, blood dripping from my nose.

Subscribe To In The Pantheon