The God of Thunder (Day 3)

When you're next on a ship, grip tight on to the railing and peer over the side and into the depths.

The sea is dark, but if you had eyes that could see far enough and could see clearly enough, you would see the ocean floor, covered in sand. You would see creatures -- depending on where you are, they could be just tuna, or they could be pretty fishes in the colors of the rainbow, swimming through the coral reefs, or they could be bloated, weird critters with sharp fangs and a lantern hanging over their head, bobbing side to side as they swim.

And if you had really, really special eyes, you could see beyond that. Because our ocean floor is the very farthest edge of another world. It's the world where Atlantis sunk to and from where R'lyeh will rise.

Just as our ocean is the far strand skirting the deep realm, our sky is the end of another world. Our sky is the southernmost edge of their sea.

The people in that world - and yes, there are people - live on a great continent (which they call simply the Old Continent) but it is far from our skies; even most of their seas are in places where we cannot see them, even if we could travel anywhere on the globe to look for them.

But there is one of that world we can still see.

You see, when the Creation of the Old Continent ended, the Gods left it one by one. The God of Light fled to the east, and circles their world as a sun. The God of Fire rose to their heavens (which could be seas in another, ever more distant realm -- but who knows?) in a whirl of smoke, and traveled to the north. He still shows himself in the cold of winter, in dancing lights against the dark night sky.

The God of Growth went walking to the West and was never seen again. And there were, of course, others.

The God of Thunder was the last of them to leave the Old Continent. He set sail from the southernmost peak of the land, the waves frothing against the side of his longboat as a final farewell. And on the shoreline stood the Ancients, the new wardens of the Continent, giving their silent respects to him and, through him, all of godkind. So the God of Thunder sailed south until he came to the edges of their world.

Next time there's a storm, watch the sky. Look for a great, round dark cloud - because it's not a cloud at all. It is the longboat of the Thunder-god, sailing so close to the earth the tallest trees tickle its humongous belly. And once you find that vessel, try to look above it, and you may see the god himself, his black eyes on the horizon and his beard flowing in the wind.

* * *

I feel immature. Everybody else is writing about, y'know, real people and real life. What I want the most is to tell tales about things you see in the weirdest of your dreams - or, you can guess me, make up for yourself as you sit on the balcony, admiring the thunderstorm. I guess I'll always be a brat like that.

But guess what? I'm not sorry. Not one bit. Nyah nyah.