A Fate of Gods
Cyclops Ken hefted his weapon. It was a good piece of wood with big and sharp tip, a spear. At first glance it was clear that it could pierce anything. These filmmakers really did their work properly. Real rocks, no fake snow or windstorm made by just one fan.
It was worth it. Finally, after all these years he got an opportunity.
Every career has to end someday and his life as a wrestler wasn’t exactly spectacular. Before his injury he was known as Golem of Prague, then Pyrenean Giant and Lubber Jake. Arena needed really big evil guy and he with his two meters and twenty centimetres was ideal for this. When he lost his eye, his manager got an idea and Cyclops Ken was born. It was better, but not that much.
He was no Hulk Hogan or Mr. T, but still he had enough popularity and was lured by movie screen. It was one thing that he did his entire life – he entertained people. However, he never got an offer. When suddenly this.
They were from Europe, but a contract was more than acceptable and seemed like from some Hollywood studio. Together with other actors he went through months of training, where he learned how to properly use old weapons. It was some kind of narrative fantastic movie, and everything had to look like it really happened. Yes, it will be hard, but his salary was good enough motivation.
And hard it really was. He led hundreds of extras through snowy plains. Final scene. As soon as a giant ship showed itself on the horizon, the director shouted: ACTION.
It looks really good, thought Ken. All these special effects are so lifelike, a giant serpent, masks of monsters, a storm. This won’t be any stupid farce; many millions were spent for this. That creature, that I killed a moment ago, or blood of these demon-like monsters, everything looks so real.
Nobody shouted STOP, so I must be doing well. This is it, the end. The director told me that when giant monsters shows itself, it is necessary for me to immediately set forth. No stalling, no avoiding.
Here it is. A great model, how do they even operate this giant wolf? His open jaw looks like it touches the sky.
Ken suddenly felt fear. He swiftly looked around. Nobody was here.
Not the even old director in black glasses that he always had on, nor one-handed producer. Even the grumpy cameraman was gone.
That monster runs straight towards him, jumping over the dead bodies, roars and pants. Ken has to focus on the scene; it’s not the first time, but for the first time he is scared.
Whatever, it’s just a movie.
He prepared his spear and moved towards the wolf and –
He stopped. The model of the wolf also stopped. The terrible stench from his open mouth made Ken question if it even is a machine.
Something told him, somewhere deep inside his head, that now is the time to act, to leave behind fear and self-preservation instincts. He felt like the director was talking to him, telling him that he must go forward, to the beast’s mouth. It was his fate, and he couldn’t argue with it.
The wolf moved and his jaws swiftly closed themselves. The wrestler didn’t have enough time to prepare his spear to fight. He hasn’t heard the victorious howl that soon changed into the painful whimper, when the sword pierced wolf’s body.
He hasn’t even noticed flaming walls that rolled from every side. Nobody shouted STOP.
Fire was engulfing everything, the dead bodies, the battleground, entire universe.
For a moment the world was lost into the nothingness, only to be later found, without fire and empty. Quiet, calm, abandoned, waiting.
Earth opened itself and from its depths came a man, who had to close his eyes for a while, because he hadn’t seen light for a long time in the world of goddess Hel. However, there was no Underworld, nothing that Baldr knew.
With sorrow he looked around over the new world. He won’t see them again. The past was long forgotten, it was filled and now is time of new gods. Soon they will arrive.
I can hear them now.
Shadowy figures showed themselves like a drop of sweat. Soon they began to slowly take form.
Baldr went towards them. What will they be like?
Children of my friends.
I’ve never seen them.
Their voices were familiar.
The last of the old gods suddenly stopped and listened to them for a while. He was losing confidence.
It shouldn’t be like this.
“Are you all here?”
“Yes. But I still think we should’ve stayed there. It was expected from us.”
“You never were the bright one, Thor. What use would it have?”
“We let people fight for us,” said hulk half angry and half filled with wonder.
“You must say that they fought well. Nonetheless, it was their fault. I will show them ragnarok,” grit one-eyed god his teeth, “I am the highest god, and no human would order me to be eaten by a big dog.”
“A wolf, father,” corrected him cautiously Vidar, “Fenrir was a wolf. The dog should kill Tyr over there.”
Odin just waved his hand stretch himself and closed his only eye.
Finally, why should I be god if I wouldn’t be able to create my own world?
In particular if it is for eternity.
"Things just happen. What the hell."
* Terry Pratchett. Hogfather
Welcome to my world. For the longest time I couldn’t think of right name for this place, so I left it without one. Amongst things you can find here are attempts of science fiction and fantasy stories, my collection of gods, bogeymen and monsters and also articles about things that had me interested, be it for a while or for years. (There is more of this, sadly not in English but in Czech, on www.fext.cz)
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