Challenge #01649-D188: What a God Wants

I was destined to be the priestess of a mad God. What they didn't tell me was that instead of slaughtering people I'd be making Him a nice cup of tea and telling him it would be all right. -- Knitnan

I'd always wondered why the High Holies of the Mad God Zhyruq selected the kind and sympathetic to be their acolytes. Every year, they chose amongst their number the trainee they found to be the kindest, most generous, and most sympathetic. And, until it was my turn, I'd wondered why.

I was terrified, of course. Those who were chosen to be the Mad God's intermediary were rarely seen again. And those that did return to the public were... hollow. Empty of their ability to care for anyone else beyond a set of simple remedies. They were prone to weeping and crying out, "I don't know! I don't know any more!" I had to fret about what could possibly do that to a gentle and kind human being.

I was shaking as I entered the Sacred Door. To the here-and-not-here realm between mortal soil and that which could bear the tread of a God. With a title like Mad God, I expected a skull and blood motif with human skin throw rugs. I expected an altar upon which I had to sacrifice myself. But when I opened my eyes...

The verdant fields of heaven. Soft and spongy mosses under my feet. Picturesque trees and rivers of milk and honey. Bejewelled butterflies flitting on the perfumed breeze. A perfect little cottage that had, I had no doubt, a perfect view of the perfect landscape.

My rote prayers, recited for personal security, dwindled to a halt. I stood and stared for what seemed like forever before, "Oh my God," escaped my throat.

And then, there Ze was. Zhyruq in all Hir glory. For a Mad God, Ze is remarkably human-shaped when Ze manifests. Beautiful, of course. But the kind of beauty that is fearsome. Too perfect. Too lovely. And entirely other by being genderless. You call, and I come, as arranged, Ze said without saying it. The Mad God had spoken unto me. And then Ze spake, Are you done being frightened?

The Mad God Zhyruq sounded... cross... about that. But I had to answer honestly. "I've seen so few intermediaries come back, and when they do... they're very different. I expected horror. I'm glad I was wrong, but... I still have to wonder what makes them so... broken."

Zhyruq seethed. It's not my fault, Ze so spake. _I get upset about things. A God's anger is... troublesome... to mortals. So after you have Served, you are to be sent to a place like unto heaven on earth. Some refuse. Those are the ones you see."

"You... don't need me to bleed for you?"

Everyone thinks I want blood! I don't need blood. I am sustained by the worship of My followers, not blood. If you want to give something your blood, give it to an ailing plant. All it's good for is keeping people alive and then nourishing the flora. Not. Gods.

This was the first time I had seen a tetchy God. I would have a year of it, yet. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it... It's... It's a natural conclusion. Mad God equals blood sacrifices. It's the way people think, unfortunately. Perhaps... a name change? Zhyruq The Upset?"

I've been trying that for decades, moaned Zhyruq. Best of luck with your efforts. You have a day to acquaint yourself with the surroundings. And from then on... there are the petitions. Petitions, pronounced, 'agonising pain in my anatomy'.

"I've always thought that it was nice of you to give our prayers the personal touch," I said honestly. "And all official temples don't have a single sharp object in them."

It's the unofficial ones that get me ropeable, Ze grumbled, and faded out of corporeal existence.

The rote prayers, I learned, were not included in the satchel that appeared on my table every morning. They were like form letters. Copious and readily ignored. They were, Zhyruq said, for the comfort and succour of the followers. If they were all answered, then there would be unforseen circumstances of the disastrous kind. Zhyruq didn't explain it any further, other than to explain that if Ze did, then I would have nightmares for a month.

It took me two months to find Hir favourite tea. Dosed with mead and milk, because milk and honey are acceptable foods of the Gods, and manna isn't as nice as you might think it is. The gardens of the between realm grow anything at all when I need it, so there is no want in my case. Hirs... is very different.

I'd learned to sort the petitions into different sections: desiring money, desiring health, and desiring a change of fortune. Only the desperate break from the rote prayers, and they were all desperate cases.

I can't give them everything they want, was a frequent complaint from Zhyruq. I just can't! But they keep complaining and complaining and complaining...

Today, there was a fourth pile. Gratitude. It came from a young child, so the petition was in shaky handwriting and had a blobby picture on it. "Not all of them," I said, and read the single example of thanks out loud. "Dear God Zhyruq. Thank you so much for making my gram'ma better. I'm very happy she got to teach Papa how to make her super special soup and the spice cookies she makes for feast days. Gram'ma says she has to go to you one day, but I'm happy that's not today. Zhyruq bless you and amen."

For the first time, Zhyruq the Upset plucked a petition for mortal hands to read it Hirself. Hir usual frown faded away and the Upset God started weeping. That's all I ever wanted, Ze spake. Zhyruq preserved the letter in an impossibly smooth tablet of glass. Or something that looked a lot like glass. Ze just manifested it around the petition like a spider spinning a cocoon.

I made a note to pass to the mortal realm about more petitioners praying informal thanks to their God. It might just help remove the 'Mad God' from Hir title.

Zhyruq didn't need blood sacrifices, Ze just needed therapy.

[AN: I'd really prefer that you sent the reply to that prompt post in as a second prompt. Shall be using the other half of that post tomorrow]

[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / DaveAllen]

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