(Page 1 of 4) Cataloguing Creation by Kristi Brooks
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SUMMARY: This is a funny little fantasy story that I sold to NONzine a few weeks ago. However, one day it might develop into something more... She moved towards him, carefully pacing herself so that her anger didn't get away from her. Auburn ringlets framed her heart-shaped face and enhanced her large spring green almond eyes. As with all gods, her beauty was so perfect and so visceral that it hypnotized any mortal who happened to look directly on her. Right now, however, it was her son that was the focus of all her attention. She slid her hand under his chin and pulled his face to hers.
His face looked like little more than a dollop of lumpy clay with two dark and deeply set eyes, a small hump for a nose, and a crude slash for a mouth. It had not refined its features yet, had not decided exactly how it would turn out. At this point in a young god's life, their personality would be the final say in what kind of beauty they would end up with. Though, if she had to say right now, Riza was afraid that Nokth's face would end up being perhaps the most horrible of all those to ever grace the upper realm.
Snot bubbles moved out from the holes where his nose was supposed to be and around his thin mouth, briefly mingling with his tears before being wiped off his knobby cheeks with the back of a grubby hand. She shuddered with mild repulsion before she could get a hold of herself. Her son was not supposed to act this way. He had been sculpted from the very beginnings of all gods, the clay of creation on the banks of the high river by her loving hands and using her own hair to bind him together and her own blood to give him life. No matter how many times she reminded herself of that fact it didn't alter the behavior he'd displayed since his resurrection yesterday. By now most god children were halfway to learning how to blend and mold the wonders of the universe for their subject's enjoyment. But Nokth couldn't even seem to learn the simplest part of their work: watching.
Riza was the guardian of all creations. What other gods created from either carelessness or as by-products of their own frivolity she guarded as precious celebrations of life. It was her job to tend to the unwanted, but even so her patience was being sorely tested.
"Calm down and remember what I told you about the carelessness of a god's tears. You wouldn't want to cause life or death somewhere when you weren't paying attention, would you?" She asked, her voice while crystal clear and flawlessly human sounding still made everyone who heard it remember the most perfect day in their lives. Right now, however, she was using all her energy to reign in her emotions and convince herself that this limbo was only temporary and that by tomorrow, everything should be stabilized.
Nokth looked at her for a moment, his near black eyes clouding with confusion before stubbornly shaking his head back and forth.
"Good, then quit crying and explain your problem."
He opened his mouth and then clamped it shut as if he were a fish struggling for air. She let go of his chin and looked at him from her full height, her hands on her hips as she waited. While Riza's voice was a soft and beautiful perfection and brought to mind the same clear spring day that was reflected in her eyes, his voice sounded like broken shards of glass scratching against metal, and again, Riza winced.
"I not want to watch.
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