Olympus... Revisited

Something I wrote a looong time ago, kinda weird.

Till awoke one morning on, shivering in the cold wind that battered the mountaintop he was lying on. He sat up quickly, lunging to his feet with a force that almost cast him over the edge of a four hundred foot drop.
    “Watch yourself, that’s a steep drop,” A voice said from behind him. He turned; the voice belonged to a man perched on a rock, watching him with mild interest. The man was dressed in a pale green robe, and gold-colored sandals with little wings on them. His hair was bright red, curly and long and whipping back and forth in the wind.
    “Who are you? And where am I? And how did I get here?”  Till asked frantically, waving his arms in a rather ridiculous fashion. Although, it was really not that ridiculous, considering he had woken up on a freezing mountaintop when he had gone to sleep in a warm bed in his home. The man watching him smiled slightly.
    “I am Raphael, but you can call me Rafe. You are on a mountain; I should think that is obvious. And as to how you got here, well. That is not for you to know.”
    “Wait, Raphael as in the archangel? Am I dead?”
    “No, I’m not that Raphael. You have heard of Hermes, Greek messenger God? I am his cousin, and no you are not dead,” He said, clearly amused.
    “Why am I here?”
    “We decided we liked you, you are god material. You’re here for training. Now, could you follow me? The others are waiting.” Rafe stood up, and moved away, hovering a few inches off the ground. Till followed him silently. I must be dreaming, he thought. I must, I must I must be dreaming… Before him he saw a large building, the gilded designs glinting in the flitting sunlight. Smoke rose from it and he shivered, hurrying towards it, hoping for warmth. When he got closer, he saw two bearded men crouched around a small game board; the smoke was coming from that.
    “I’ll see your Zimbabwe, and raise you… Chile.”
    “Okay, I call. Read ‘em and weep, straight flush,” he said, laughing. Two spots on the boards lit up, flaming briefly.
    “What are they doing?” Till asked Rafe, who looked over his shoulder.
    “Playing cards, what does it look like? Come on keep up, I haven’t got all day, there’s a few disasters I left running that I have to check up on.”
    Till walked faster, following him into the hall. People were milling about, talking and debating with each other, hardly sparing him a glance as he passed. All were robed, wearing various paraphernalia. One had a lightning bolt strapped across his shoulders, which hissed and crackled menacingly when Till passed. Another one was juggling what looked like small planets. Rafe walked by them all, making his way to a seated figure at the end of the hall. This man was older than the others, and his only sign of rank or position was a gnarled stick, polished to a dull sheen. Rafe nodded once at him, and left.
    “Welcome, Till. I am Bob, Chief of the gods.”
    “Bob?” Till said incredulously.
    “Hmm, not a very godly name, is it? Ah well, what does it matter? Here, you will need these.” He held out a pair of gilded sandals much like Rafe’s, and Till took them.
    “What am I doing here? And when can I go home?”
The god stared at him. “Go home? Why would you want to do that? Didn’t you say just yesterday you wished you could be a god?”
    “Yeah, but I didn’t really mean like this…I was kind of drunk…” Bob nodded at his words.
    “Exactly. That’s why we wanted you here. Your behavior on earth… well, lets just say you are exactly what we need up here.”
    “Huh?” Till said in complete confusion, sandals dangling from his hand. The little wings on them were flapping like disoriented butterflies.
    “Don’t you get it?” Till shook his head.
    “Well, I’m not explaining. Don’t really feel like it. So, you can just wander around, see how the place works, try the shoes on, alright? Good.”
    He dismissed Till with a wave. Till left, and looked around. He tried joining several conversations and was shunned, left to his own devices. The two gods were still playing their card game outside, and he stood and watched them for awhile. Every time the one on the left won a hand, places on the board would burst into brief flame. Every time the other won a hand, the board would sprout little tornadoes. Upon closer inspection, he found that the board was actually a map.
    “You’re playing cards with countries? Isn’t that kinda mean?”
    “So? It doesn’t bother us any, now does it? Besides, they regenerate well enough.”
    “Oh.” From what Till could tell, most of the people here were like this; rude and selfish. He wondered briefly if he was like them, but dismissed the thought. That couldn’t be why they chose him; he was better than that. Or was he? He had said he wanted to be a god yesterday, for the sole purpose that he could do what he wanted. Top among these things was to get a girl. He thought about it, and decided that in reality, he really was a jackass. That having been decided, he forgot about it. He was a god now, so who really cared, right? He could do what he wanted to, mess with the earth, and no more taxes, no more work. Laughing to himself, he pulled on his sandals. They were comfortable, fitting him snugly. He stood, and they lifted him just off the ground. He leaned forward, and he glided forward smoothly. He went faster and faster, darting around. Seeing the precipice he had awoken on, he sped towards it, meaning to go off the edge and fly.
    The other gods were watching him, a few placing small bets amongst themselves. Bob came out to watch as well, leaning on his stick. The others parted respectfully for him, then watched as Till went careening over the edge, more money exchanging hands as his scream grew fainter.
    “Nobody told him that those sandals only work close to the ground, did they?” Bob commented to Rafe, who was standing beside him.
    “Nope. Pity, really, he would‘ve made a great god. Oh well, we‘ll just have to get another one. There‘s enough of them, aren‘t there?”
    “Sure, but we’ll have to warn the next one,” Bob said, then left.
    “Why?” Rafe asked his retreating back.
    “Because I’m running out of sandals.”

 

Author's Note

please comment, tell me what you think.