Jim was a god. A young god. He was three days old. That's basically a toddler in higher being years.
Jim was playing. His mom was watching him. He was playing with blocks, perfectally sculpted by his mother's godess hands.
"Its time to go Jim," his mother said suddenly.
"NOOOO!" screamed Jim. He was a whiny little deity.
Jim slammed the giant stone blocks into the ground, shattering them into thousands of rough asymmetrical pieces.
"Its time to go Jim," his mother tiredly repeated. Children were handfuls even for goddesses. She scooped him up with one hand.
"Nooo!" Jim screamed again. His vocabulary was lacking at this age. His pudgy little god arms flailing about, reaching for the broken blocks. Tears were beginning to form in his eyes.
"Calm down, calm down," his mother said. With a flick of her wrist she stacked the broken blocks up into precariously stacked towers. Architecture was one thing that a goddess could manage.
"All better," she said as they walked into the heavens.
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1 comment:
You're clearly having fun with this, and I love that! At times, quite "Twilight Zone" ish.
Remember to give me the requirements and location of where all you'd like to submit for publication....
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