End of Days

Flash fiction about what happens between the gods of old when the world appears to be ending...again.

- - - - - - - - - -

End of Days

They had one of these Apocalypse scares once every few decades.  It was usually a false alarm—no mortal was that intuitive—but when the rumor mill started churning out Doomsday scenarios, the deities across all realms had to meet to discuss the possibility of The End.  They’d started renting out a boardroom at the United Nations Headquarters in Geneva a few years back and, despite the work to be done, it was usually a rather pleasant reunion.  No one was ever really worried about the Apocalypse.  And those that were found themselves breathing easier in the Alps.

Zeus was chosen to moderate the latest meeting.  “We all know why we’re here,” he said, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking his seat at the head of the table.  “The world is in peril.  Again.”

“Supposedly,” Thoth put in, sitting at Zeus’ right hand as secretary and scribbling down the meeting’s minutes.

“Yes.  As always.”  Zeus cleared his throat and continued, “We haven’t seen such a loss of logic amongst the mortals since the Y2K scare, which is why I thought it pertinent for us to come together today.”

Loki raised a hand and was acknowledged.  “How about we just wipe them out this time and be done with it?” he suggested with mock sincerity.  “We’ll throw the humans a bone—fire and brimstone, zombies, they won’t care.  They eat that End of Days shit up.”

“I’ve asked you numerous times to leave your wit at the door,” Zeus replied with a sneer.  “Back to serious business.  First off, we need to determine if there is a real threat to humanity out there, somewhere.  The cosmic scales appear to be in balance, but the Mayan calendar does cease at the end of this year.  Does the delegation from Central America have anything to say on the matter?”

A man so thin that you could see every bone through his skin rose.  “It’s not us,” Ah Puch, Mayan god of death, announced.  “Our people lost interest in keeping track of time—can you really blame them?  If this is the true End, it won’t be brought on by us.”  He sat down to nods of approval from around the table, only to hurriedly hop back to his feet.  “If you’ll allow another digression on my part, I’d simply like to add that anyone still concerned with the matter take a closer look at a few of God’s followers.  If any mortal sect poses a serious threat to the fate of the universe, it’s them.  Quite a few of them appear to be rather…bonkers.”

“Don’t bring good Christians into this,” God said, punctuating his words with a fist on the tabletop.

“Many of them aren’t very ‘good,’ strictly speaking,” Loki noted.

“You do have the Horsemen on speed dial,” Zeus reminded God gently.

“I’m at my peak!” God argued back, his face flushed.  “People are murdering each other for me, picketing funerals, making neon signs and quoting me wrong in the streets.  Why would I destroy all that?”

Loki grinned.  “To avoid admitting how badly you screwed up.  Remember, you let your first woman get seduced by a piece of fruit.”

“I won’t sit here and take this abuse.”  God stood, to make good on his threat.  He gave a curt nod to the assembled deities and then leveled an angry gaze at Loki.  “When I do start the Apocalypse, your ass is first on my to-smite list.”

“Try it, Grandpa,” Loki called out, as the door slammed shut behind God.

In the following stunned silence, Zeus cleared his throat and indicated for Thoth to strike the last exchange from the official record.  Slowly, the Greek rose and buttoned up his jacket.  “Well, at least we know it’s just another entropy scare,” he said wearily.  He clapped his hands together, twice.  “We’re adjourned.  Who knows a good place for fondue?”