THE ILL USION OF GODHOOD

Teerada Thia

There’s a deep forest behind your house , dar k and full of myster y. It reminds you of your childhood, where you r an through the gr ass and ducked under br anches, looking for a lost city.

There’s little left More than half of the trees have been cut down, leaving only rotted stumps A thin dir t path winds its way through the trees You haven’t used it in decades, but you set out, hoping you remember the way back Stiff br anches br ush you as you walk Roots slither into your path to tr y and tr ip you up, but somehow, you remember where they are Roots are only the slow legs of the trees They don’t grow ver y fast, but they are quite strong. A deer dashes into your line of sight You give a shout of sur pr ise , pinwheel backwards, tr ip, and land on your back. The deer, spooked, (it doesn’t have a r ight to be spooked, it jumped in your path!) leaps away. A shot r ings out, but far, far away. You wince at the sound, regretting your last thought.

cr awling out, covered in mud and twigs. He has fuzzy nut brown hair and eyes as deep and r ich as mud. In his ar ms is a little otter pup, fast asleep. The boy looks up at you and bleats in alar m. The bush r ustles again and from behind him, a young gir l with deer like eyes stares at you. Her dar k hair is tied back behind her. She holds a hunting knife in her hands that is shaped like a crescent moon.

You r ise and br ush the debr is from your clothes. “It’ll be gone in a few year s,” you say speculatively to the forest, pretending not to notice .

The boy stiffens, and, in a heavy yet high young voice , wise beyond his year s,

“I know.” The gir l pats his shoulder comfor tingly. Despite her relation with the other forest hunter s, she despises them

“Can you stop them?” she asks.

“Can you?”

You hesitate , then say, “I can tr y ”

“Tr y ”

“I will Pan ” it for a second before playing a single haunting scale and then puts it back in his pocket. “My name is Peter and this is Ar ta. The old god Pan is dead. Why are you in my forest?”

You crouch down to look the children in the eyes. They stare r ight back, the gir l’s me a stor y?” you whisper.

“What about?”

“Tell me about the wild at night.”