Old gods

Speed of Flight.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. Everyone knows that little bit.... well, a lot of people do but that's not my point.

My point is which god?

Everyone's got an opinion there, even if it's none. Everyone in human history has had an opinion. It's not just Yahweh and his jerk son either. Ooh, that kid really gets under my skin. The dead one was cool. But his older brother? Completely disrespectful to every other deity. At least Yahweh gives the old nod and wave when you pass each other on the street. Lucifer? No, that petulant boy would probably try to mug Hades himself. But they aren't the only gods.

There were things at the beginning, dark, massive, incomprehensible things. Elder deities that shaped the very fabric of our reality and then went to sleep hopefully never to awaken again lest the minds of man suffer a madness to great to know. But they weren't the only ones either.

There were those of us, however, in the middle. We oftentimes get forgotten or turned it kitschy little bits of pop culture. It's a lonely life you know? Immortality, the ability to see the breadth of human history and culture for what it really is. See how massive the scope of humanity truly is. And yet, to be forgotten. A god with no one to believe in them is a sad sight indeed.

Like I said it gets lonely, and with the entirety of the rest of time to look forward to it gets a bit boring sometimes. My son, Pan, he builds birdhouses you know? And father, Zeus, has become quite the landscape painter in his old age.

I guess my real point is .... Everyone needs a hobby.

Hermes stretched out his hamstrings on the deserted stretch of California beach. Rocks raised high, towering above the young-looking man as he carefully stretched every part of his body. His thin muscles, tall and toned, stretched out to the perfect picture of a runner's build. He wore thigh-length shorts and a simple tank top, with an odd bucket hat with blonde curls jutting out at every angle. He prided himself on his body. Although he never really had to work at it. When you can run as fast as he could you never would have trouble with your physique.

He liked listening to the ocean before going on a long run. Well... long for most people that is. He bent forward in a long stretch of his back, keeping knees outstretched. He reached his long arms down to pick up the simple leather satchel resting in the hot sand. He slung the satchel over his shoulder and gave one last big full body stretch as he let in the soft salty smell..

Then he was off like a bolt of lightning.

Wind rushing by his face as he pumped his legs and let out heavy breaths. He was out of California in a little under a minute. He skidded through the Nevada desert not bothering to use roads. He swerved between rock faces and zoomed through canyons. He startled a sleeping den of coyotes who let out cackling howls.

He detoured through Las Vegas, it would usually slow him down to run through a big city but he took this detour often enough that it wouldn’t matter much. The lights and buzzing of people amazed him. He felt alive in a sea of people, most not noticing him as he sprinted by. Hermes shot out of the Vegas strip picking up speed before long crossing the Arizona desert.

He took New Mexico and Texas with big lunging leaps. He'd make up the time from Vegas on this empty stretch of land. It was how he forgave his little pleasantries. He ran through the swamps of Louisiana careful not get caught in bogs or mud along the way.

He took another detour through New Orleans. Another of the wonders of modern man. He swerved through Bourbon Street and stopped for the first time. He leaned against a nearby doorframe I made up enough time for a breather. Hermes thought to himself as he watched the parade of colorfully dressed people all having a good time, it made him smile.

The bodies twisted and turned as he watched the intricate dance at the costumed parade. Merry jazz music played in the background and for a second he was able to just stand still and be at peace. That didn't last too long, for Hermes it never did. Even as he stood peacefully watching he was tapping one foot. Like a dog running in place as it dreams.

Hermes stood up from his slouched lean and stretched out quickly. Just as he appeared, in a flash he was gone. Wind again rushing by his face, hat secured to his neck by a string, flapping in the torrent of wind rushing around him.

He vaulted the Mississippi River in a single coiled leap. He darted through trees and thick forest. Brushing against limbs, vaulting over bushes and overturned trees, he kept his pace. He bolted through Mississippi and Alabama. He burst out into open farmland and the burst of light caught him for a second. He shielded his eyes and moments later came out on Georgia I-75.

He was running for 20 seconds before Atlanta was in sight and growing. He veered left going to one of the smaller northern suburbs. He took a left off of the interstate. Here's where the speed gets tricky, especially when you don't stop for traffic lights. He swerved around cars and hurdled entire intersections in massive leaps. 

He finally came to a small strip mall. He slowed to a jog, which by human standards was a light run, and finally halted in front of a small shop with the name Cassidy: Paranormal Investigator painted on the window.

"Speed of Flight delivery!" Hermes yelled for the man steadily working at his desk in the shop. Thomas Cassidy perked up from his hunched-over study and with the ring of a bell, he stepped out of the shop to greet the old god.

"Hey Herm." Cassidy said. Cass wore his usual slacks and lazily buttoned, rolled sleeves, collared shirt. His ginger hair was just long enough to ruffle in the wind.

"How's it going Cass?" Hermes asked.

"Oh you know, the usual. Dealt with a ghost goldfish recently. That was weird." Cass said.

Hermes stretched his toes out on the hot pavement and reached for his satchel producing a small paper-wrapped package that he handed over to Cass.

"Fish can become ghosts?"

"Apparently if you try really hard. It was hard figuring out what it wanted. You know with the gurgling and not speaking thing."

Cass produced a small leather pouch from his pants pocket and carefully unwrapped the paper package. He inspected it for a moment and dumped its contents into the leather pouch. Crumpling up the paper and tossing it toward a nearby trash can.

It was this week's herb blend that he used to roll into cigarettes. Sage was always a component for its sweet taste, this week he'd had worm root, and hyssop mixed in as well. Cass liked to delude himself into thinking this was healthier than smoking tobacco. He knew better but had also wondered if someone like him even needed to worry.