Sleeping Deities

Chapter 5

Of course they came back, as they always did.

Because it never mattered, how much he hated or despised them, how much they feared or regretted their actions. It didn't matter when time is infinite, when another discourse or disagreement between them was yet another blip, another bump in the road to get used to, to run over until it smooths into another bit of pavement to be ignored.

And it didn't take long for it to become Phil's new normal, for him to wake to the faintest trace of a smile on his face, or for him to jerk at the slightest bit of wind, mishearing a whistle for a whisper of a deity long forgotten. For the weight on his back to become just another pair of limbs he's always had, to tame and control, to tense and relax and set free.

The twins too got over it quickly; arriving months later prepared with enough laughter for the three of them to share, Bright eyes shining with an excitement for a new day with him, with Phil, with the curious oddity whose existence plagued them since the start of their lives.

Except... no longer did it feel like the gods were there to simply observe the daily routine of the legend they've heard so much about.

It was in the ways they integrated themselves into his mortal activities, the way they began to make their presence louder where once they were a distraction. When simply casting out his line into the vast ocean brought the boys endless amounts of fascination soon became a task they did together, the three of them sitting at the end of the pier, doing all they could to not push each other off. When they once invoked a wild madness in the animals around them to watch the man suffer for their amusement, they now tamed into an unnatural calm for Phil to feed and nurture with a love only a father could provide them.

Their visits steadily increased from weekly to twice a week, then twice to four times. Until the man found himself preparing a meal every morning for he and the twins, waiting patiently for that polite knock on his door and the familiar faces that greeted him with the sunrise, and enjoying their company until the moon at its peak signaled their farewell.

It soon became impossible for the wanderer to differentiate his life before with the life after. When had they become so important for his survival, so integral to his endurance of this punishment their family had set him on so long ago?

When had it become normal for him to talk to gods as peers and not enemies? When had they become allies in a war never fought?

When had it become so normal that when they abruptly stopped coming a few years later, Phil only felt a pit of unease and dread? That he found it difficult to accept their disappearance even when weeks turned to months, when the sweltering sun turned to snowfall and back once more? No messages received, no miracles showing themselves to him. In a ridiculous act of desperation he even tried sending a prayer to the boys, knowing that even then he would get no response in return.

The silence of the word was deafening and numbing. When the wind stopped so abruptly, he couldn't help but look for them, expecting the melodic voice of music and the monotone voice of war to greet him, only to be reminded of this new reality he lived in which he had to understand they were never coming back.

It was the first time in a very long time — he realized — that he felt so very truly alone.

Alone with the reminders of Techno in the pigs and the hogs that watched him as he flew overhead, in the light of endless summer days and the scarlet of the falling autumn leaves.

Alone with the reminders of Wilbur in the lullaby of the ocean waves as they lulled him to sleep, in the compassion of strangers who passed him by on his travels, and in the soft glow of the moon that cast shadows in even the darkest of spaces.