The God Called Amon
I skirted around Amon for the next couple of days. I didn’t know how to act after what I’d said to him, and what he’d revealed. If that woman, that human woman, was his mother…then what did that make Amon? Was he born a human? Or was he a god born to a human mother? My brain didn’t know how to process what he’d said. What I really wanted was Salma, or even James, to tell me the theories and history, what they thought, and the research they’d done on the topic. Instead, I had myself, my thoughts, and my broken arm.
Amon moved around the gazebo silently, as usual, doing his own thing. Sometimes he would eat, other times he would sit contemplatively, and most of the time he looked at the pond. I took it upon myself to begin exploring his realm…partly because I wanted to, but mostly because I wanted to escape him. Escape the rising tension between us and the way his eyes watched me now and then, as though trying to solve a puzzle called Etta. The issue was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be solved.
I dug my feet into the warm sand as I walked, each step becoming more tiring than the last. The small granules began to feel hotter with each passing moment. Their sharp heat burned the thin skin between my toes. I looked back at the gazebo, a small dot in the distance, and realised I was too tired to go any further. I looked back to where I had been headed: nothing but pure sand, a mixture of yellow, orange, and bright red burned back at me.
I’d began my walk in a straight line from the gazebo, straight from the edge closest to my stone bed. Amon had watched me curiously but didn’t stop me. My body suddenly felt heavy and lethargic and the sun above burned hotter than it ever had before. I let out a deep sigh. I should have brought water. Or asked Amon for shoes. Or prepared even the tiniest bit before I embarked on this idiotic exploration. But I was too busy running away from Amon and all my feelings I’d attached to him.
‘What the hell am I doing?’ I muttered to my self, taking a step toward where Amon would be waiting. When my foot landed, it hit the cool stone floor of the gazebo.
I gasped. The world spun in a circle—what was up was suddenly down and my left became my right. I looked around in confusion, not sure where I stood or how I stood there. Amon held out a large hand and braced me gently, his grip loose yet heavy on my bicep.
‘Are you okay?’ He leant his face close to me, whirling blue eyes meeting my dark ones.
‘What was that?’ I held my hand to my mouth, bile rising slightly.
‘I thought you wanted to come back?’
‘I did.’ I nodded my head but squished my eyes closed as a round of nausea hit me. ‘I just…didn’t expect that.’
Amon picked me up gently, scooping my legs in his arms and laying me down on the stone bed. It was hard, but the cooling rock had started to feel comfortable. I guess I was growing used to it. However, the one thing I hated was the stone pillow, and I’d stolen a soft one from the mattress on the floor the first day Amon created it. He shuffled that pillow behind my head now, fluffing it up like he’d seen me do many times before.
He placed a cool piece of cloth over my eyes. It was a scratchy cloth made from thin linen, but the cooling material helped ease the dizziness the trip back to the gazebo had caused.
‘Here, drink.’ I opened my mouth as Amon tipped cool water down my throat. I was used to him caring for me—he had done so from the moment I’d woken up—but something felt different. More intimate than it had before we’d had that…argument? Conversation? I wasn’t sure what it was we’d had, to be honest.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ I heard his chair squeak and imagined him sitting in it, shining brighter than the gold it was wrapped in.
‘There was nothing out there. How far does it go?’
‘As far as I want it to.’
‘So, forever?’
‘I’ve never wanted to see how far it went,’ he replied honestly. I heard a small, repetitive tapping noise, and peeked out from under the linen to see his finger drumming the armrest. ‘Why did you want to see?’
‘Research,’ I replied, dropping the wetness back on my eyes. ‘I want to learn as much as I can about your realm before I go back home.’
Home.
Just the thought of going home had my stomach flipping in nerves. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see Salma and James and maybe even call my parents. I wanted to share with the world what I had seen and learnt. But...going home meant leaving Amon. My stomach flipped in a bad way. The kind of flip that happens when you see someone you don’t like or you’re asked to speak in front of the class.
Leaving Amon should be no big deal. Sure, it would be sad to leave a god whom I could learn about, but that should be all. I shouldn’t have any other feelings there. I couldn’t. We weren’t the same, aren’t the same. And I shouldn’t pretend we were. Amon made it clear when I first got here—humans don’t belong here. We can’t stay long. I was here to heal and that was it. I needed to get any other thoughts or feelings, whatever they may be, out of my mind and in the bin.
Amon was silent. When I looked out from under the wet cloth again, he was nowhere to be seen. I let out a huff of annoyance and closed my eyes.
When I awoke, it was to the scent of freshly grilled fish. My stomach grumbled and I picked the now warm material from my eyes, sitting up slowly. Amon sat crossed-legged on the stone floor with his back to me as he looked out across the water. He ate with his fingers, dipping them into the water bowl next to him every so often. Next to him was another plate, heaped with steaming lentils, veggies, and fish.
I meandered my way over and placed myself beside him as gracefully as I could with one arm. He didn’t acknowledge my presence and, apart from the small “thank you” I muttered in his direction, I didn’t acknowledge his. We sat and ate silently together, watching the birds on the pond as the sun set behind it. The sky lit up in a wonder of pinks, purples, and oranges. It reflected across the pond and painted itself on Amon and my skin. If I wasn’t so…annoyed with him, I might have thought it was a romantic scene.
I didn’t know why I was so mad with him. I just felt…miffed. Like he’d done me wrong somehow. I knew, deep down, that he probably felt the same way, but I was a weak and inconsequential human, so I was allowed to feel that way and he was not. I dipped my fingers into my water bowl with so much vigour that it spilled over. Amon glanced at me, food half-way to his mouth, and raised an eyebrow, giving me the sort of look I would give Salma when she asked me to do something stupid, like buying cigars from a street vendor for a crazy up-marked price.
Without a word, he swiped his hand over it and fixed it up as though it had never happened. The water sizzled from the floor and the bowl careened itself into an upright position, water sloshing inside.
‘Thanks.’ I dipped my fingers in it again, more gently this time.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Amon pinched some lentils in between his fingers as he spoke.
‘I’m just wondering why I’m so mad with you,’ I replied honestly, picking up a piece of grilled fish.
‘I was wondering the same thing. Have I done something to upset you?’
I shrugged, flicking a few lentils around the brass plate as I said, ‘I really don’t know. I’m just mad.’
He nodded and continued eating. It wasn’t until I was finished that I decided to talk to him.
‘Was she really your mother?’ Amon looked at me, slightly shocked, as he dispersed the plates into thin air.
‘You think I’d lie about that?’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘It just…doesn’t make sense.’ Amon stood up and held his arm out. I grabbed it and he pulled me up before moving to the mattress on the floor. I sprawled out in my usual spot, squishing a pillow between my legs and in my one good arm. He sat and faced me, leaning back onto the pillows casually.
‘What doesn’t make sense?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Well, first of all, does that mean you were a human when you were born? When were you born? Who was your father? Who was your mother?’
Amon looked thoughtful and ran a hand over his short hair. Back and forth. Back and forth. He took a deep breath and exhaled.
‘I don’t know.’ I groaned and threw my head back. He shuffled closer, his body warming mine with each inch he moved. He looked down at me as his head rested in his hand, elbow digging into the pillow next to my head. ‘I really don’t.’
His face was so close, yet so far. He had thick eyebrows that framed his pale eyes. His skin was a deep olive, brushed with the sun’s rays. Thick lips sat beneath a strong nose and his jawline was sharp, defined. It clenched as he watched me, watching him. A slick tongue darted out to coat his lips as he continued talking.
‘I don’t know if I was born human and developed power. Or if I was born a god and my powers got stronger as I aged. I don’t know who my father was—which wasn’t exactly uncommon back then, either.’ He looked down at me as he talked, his face inching closer. I huddled behind the pillow like a child. It felt like a shield, albeit a weak one.
‘I don’t know what year I was born. We didn’t count the years then…we simply watched as each day passed, hoping we’d live until the next sunrise. As for my mother…I don’t know who she was, either. I remember her, though.’
I nodded and looked away from his piercing stare, licking my lips nervously. ‘What do you remember about her?’
‘She was young. Small. Weak. My birth left her ill. I aged quickly back then, faster than the humans did. I began to look after her and she managed to live for a while, in the human sense of the word. As my powers grew stronger, she grew weaker.’ He looked at his hands, clenching them as he glanced back at me.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ I said, shaking my head at him. ‘But you didn’t kill her. She was human—all humans die. Your powers had nothing to do with that.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just do. You wouldn’t kill your mother any more than you would kill me.’
‘I could kill you.’
I laughed at him, reaching up with my good arm to touch his face. He seemed to lean into it slightly, his cheek brushing against my fingertips. ‘You could, but you wouldn’t. Someone like you could do anything you wanted, but it doesn’t mean you would.’
‘I’m not all-powerful; I can’t do anything I want.’
‘Really?’ He nodded, a frown etching itself on his perfect face.
‘There’s one thing I can’t do.’
He touched my hair, brushing it against the pillow gently. I relished in the feeling. It reminded me of my mother when she used to love me more, back when I was little. When she used to brush my hair gently as I sat in bed.
‘And what is that?’ I hummed, closing my eyes.
‘I can’t heal humans.’ I felt his breath run across my face as he sighed. ‘I can help their pain, but I can’t save them.’
‘Is that why you’re afraid to get close to us? Because you’ll always lose us?’
He was silent, his fingers running through my short locks. I expected him to say something about how he wasn’t afraid. After all, how could a god be afraid? Of humans? I flinched as something warm landed on my cheek and rolled into the crevice of my lips. It was salty.
‘Perhaps,’ he answered quietly.
When I opened my eyes, Amon was gone. Where he ran through my hair felt cold and lonely. I sat up slowly and touched the wet line on my cheek, pulling away to inspect the small, wet drop. I decided to sleep on the soft mattress that night, in the hope he might return.
Comments (0)
See all