[image description: A white haired gentleman with a Van Dyke beard. He wears a brown jacket over his light green shirt and rose red tie. His dark eyes peer out of an old album of photographs. Text reads, “123, Señor Momenz, ‘I’m the Small God of… I’m sure it was something. Forget my own head next….”]
Humans are such transitory things, when compared to gods.
They arrive, they grow, they thrive, they go.
And in between, they may belong to many gods, both large and small, from the wonders of Albright and the joy of Woo Woo to the huge emotional weight of Aphrodite or Hades. They live, they love, they laugh, they languish, and they lie, and they keep on changing all the same. No two mortal lives are lived in exactly the same way, no matter how closely they hew to each other, but to all those lived long, he comes eventually.
To some he comes only briefly and lightly; a forgotten errand, a misplaced pair of glasses. To them, he is a gentle god, a humorous god, worthy of laughter and gentle joking.
To others he comes so completely that he washes away everything else they are or have ever been, replacing it with only silence.
He is neither merciful nor cruel. He simply is, an epitaph and an ending, and he waits for the chance to visit each and every one of us. In his time.
And if he can remember the correct address.
Artist Lee Moyer (13th Age, Cursed Court) and author Seanan McGuire (Middlegame, Every Heart a Doorway) have joined forces to bring you icons and stories of the small deities who manage our modern world, from the God of Social Distancing to the God of Finding a Parking Space.
Join in each week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many tiny divinities: