[image description: A giant green floating head with an angry expression and an open frowning mouth that seems to be filled with smaller candies. It (and the contents of its open mouth) seems to be made entirely of some translucent sugary, gelatinous material – even its beard, mustache and staring eyes.  Text (in an overwrought stylized manner that would be more appropriate on a 70’s movie poster) reads, “197, UMMIBE, SMALL GOD OF GUMMI”]

• • • • •

He is for children and he is for adults.  He is for all.  He is made with animal byproducts and he is vegan; he is both kosher and not.  He is a texture and a medium and a confection, and he is a consequence of collagen, of starches.  He was first discovered in a pan of jelly, and has only been perfected since.  He is all.  He is eternal.  He is Gummi.

He can be found in the penny candy bins, cheap, filling, and questionably delicious, dusted with a layer of sugar to keep him from sticking to himself.  He forms countless shapes, bears and worms and sweet fish, soda bottles and long, tangled ropes.  He is snakes and he is ladders.  He is unconstrained.

He can be found in special shops where the air carries a strange, herbal tinge, shrines to Sativa which allow his presence for the kindness he can carry, for the familiarity of his shapes, which can ease the anxiety of those who are not yet comfortable with the idea of this form of worship.  He is no less sweet there, even as his sweetness masks the bitter, and he is distinctly not for children.

His dual nature means that he can be found on the evening news as Halloween draws night, argued by this report and that, accused of falling into children’s pillowcases to turn their minds to hazy dreaming.   The people who make these arguments have never paid Sativa’s tithe, refuse to understand the gulf between the penny candy bins and the medicinal tins of the herbal shrines.  He disregards them all.  He finds his worshippers in their own time, in the form that suits them best, and the people who would frighten them away are someone else’s problem.

He exists to be consumed, to join the communion of collagen already unfolding inside each and every one of his worshippers.

Beyond that, he has very little care.

• • • • • 

Join Lee Moyer (Icon) and Seanan McGuire (Story) Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for a guide to the many small deities who manage our modern world:





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