A Perspective from Outside of Time

"The Old Ones are! The Old Ones have always been! The Old Ones will be forevermore!" Vxtrx lifted his clawed hands to the sky, the fire throwing his shadow hugely upon the cliff face. He might have been a tyrannosaurus rather than a mere compsognathus. "They are cruel, jealous gods. They demand sacrifice. Human sacrifice! If we do not provide them with the honor that is their dur, they will smite us all with fire from the sky!"

There was a lengthy pause. A stegosaurus whose cultist robe had been specially modified with plate-holes raised a forelimb.

"What's a human?"

Boredom

And so The Rest of July is Small Gods Month kicks off with hopefully a bang. Jim is one of my longer-term readers, and his blog is always insightful. Because I'm all about first-come, first-serve and Jim responded most promptly, he gets the first official Small Gods Month entry. Thanks for reading, everyone!

P.S. - I gathered entries from Facebook and other forums, too, so we've got a pretty hefty bundle ready to go. Might even carry us all the way to the end of the month, at least if some more entries keep trickling in. I do get notification when there's new comments here, so don't worry about commenting on old posts. ;-)

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He never meant any harm. He loves you.

He knows about time. That was the first thing he learned, actually. He knows that time is flexible. He knows how to bend it, twist it... and stretch it.

There are limitations, of course. Because of the entanglement of space and time on this level of reality, it works best when you're not moving. In waiting rooms, or on planes. Classrooms. At work. You've probably noticed it, though you didn't know to thank him. He doesn't mind.

He wants to keep you around for as long as he can.

He loves you.

Asphalt and Time

It started with the little one-way alleys. They crept away in the night, and no one noticed but rats. Then the residential streets disappeared, leaving everyone trapped with their loving families. After that nightmare, the big multilane roads faded, and at last the vast and gleaming highways fled. There’s only one place now, all of us crushed together, cheek to jowl, skyscrapers and ranch homes and hospitals, factories and farms. We can’t travel, but we pass things along.

I wonder sometimes what it’s like wherever they ended up, where it’s all roads and no destinations, and the traffic never stops…