Fallen Gods: A Wippersnappers Anthology

By C.A. Phillips, Janine Dillo, Ani Brandt and 5 more

We live our lives in a graveyard of gods. Pantheon after pantheon fades, their worship falls silent, and the blood of their sacrifices dries and flakes. Only their ghosts linger. Their half-forgotten names adorn our calendars, clothes, and sports stadiums, our cities, and the broken inscriptions on the ruins of their temples.

 

But perhaps those fallen gods still whisper. Whisper in the hidden places of the world, and at the edge of our hearing. In dark forests and the depths of space. In the echoes of ancient battles and the corners of greasy kebab houses. In the pages of a book...

 

Stories & Authors:

 

"For a Hero" by Ibrahim S. Amin

 

"HOW TO RAISE SOMEONE FROM THE DEAD [REAL] [NOT CLICKBAIT]" by C.A. Phillips

 

"Lark" by R.C.

 

"The Butcher Moth and the Watchtower Beacon" by W.B. Kurtzer

 

"The Colony" by Ani Brandt

 

"The Old Forest God" by TJ Skyler

 

"The Legend of Station Bay" by Taylor Maxwell

 

"A Pillar of Light" by Janine Dillo

• Language: English
• Publisher: WIPpersnappers
• Release date: Feb 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224102211

C.A. Phillips

C.A. Phillips is an author who pretends to be good. You can find him haunting the narrative.

Book preview

Introduction

We live our lives in a graveyard of gods. Pantheon after pantheon fades, their worship falls silent, and the blood of their sacrifices dries and flakes. Only their ghosts linger. Their half-forgotten names adorn our calendars, clothes, and sports stadiums, our cities, and the broken inscriptions on the ruins of their temples.

But perhaps those fallen gods still whisper. Whisper in the hidden places of the world, and at the edge of our hearing. In dark forests and the depths of space. In the echoes of ancient battles and the corners of greasy kebab houses. In the pages of a book...

For a Hero

by Ibrahim S. Amin

Athene tilted her bronze helmet further back on her head, brushed a wave of dark hair from her face, poised herself over the marble table and the shimmer of Aphrodite's mirror, and snorted a line of moly and cocaine.

Her brain rushed. Her reflection winked and split into two Athenes. They kissed, but the real one sank back into her chair and left them to whatever smut her stepsister's magic artefact might taunt her with next. The Forgotten Gods barroom sharpened around her. Across the table, Freyja's golden necklace flashed, Loki's eyes sparkled, and Aphrodite's smile outshone every jewel, goblet, and cuirass in the place.

Athene squinted against the brightness and sighed.

My favourite statue shone like all this. She downed her wine and it soured her throat. Gold and ivory. Back when mortals knew their stuff. Back when—

Oh, don't mope. Aphrodite wiped her nostril, tugged the sleeve of Athene's coat, and nodded at the karaoke stage. Sing with me.

Athene yanked her sleeve free. Aphrodite rolled her eyes, beckoned to Freyja, and the two of them sprang onto the stage. The opening of Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero blared. Heracles raised his ambrosia daiquiri and cheered. And when the goddesses reached the line about 'the streetwise Hercules', he joined in with a passable baritone.

Good luck. Athene's lip curled. They won't—

She snatched at the wine-jug and knocked it off the table.

Careful. Loki caught it, smirked, and poured her refill. You were saying?

They won't find a hero. Not now. Everything's gone to shit, and all the mortals are just... just...

Shit?

Shit! We used to have proper mortals, proper heroes, and the best of them called me their patron goddess. Achilles. Odysseus. Diomedes. They were great and I made them greater. She sipped and snarled. Now? Mortals aren't worth helping. Aren't even worth smiting.

Athene finished her drink, slouched into the lobby, tossed her helmet into the cloakroom, and reversed her coat. At the door to the street, she paused. Exhaled. Warmth flickered inside her eyeballs and disappeared, almost an opposite of the drug-rush. Behind her, cartilage snapped and bone crunched. She grimaced. Not everyone could mask their godhood as easily before they stepped out into the mortal world, and over her shoulder Sobek waved her goodbye and continued to reshape his crocodilian head.

Outside, she fastened her coat against the chill and trudged through streetlight and shadow. Passed alleyways that stank of urine. Chip wrappers swirled around her boots, empty polystyrene containers tumbled, and cans clinked. She kicked her way through the debris.

Her usual spot lay ahead, where she often ended up after an evening at Forgotten Gods. Midnight had come and gone but light still spilled through its windows and smeared the pavement in front of her. A sign glared above the door. It depicted a cartoon man who wore a tower of kebab meat on a vertical spit as if it were a turban and whirled beneath the arch of the words 'Spinning Dervish'. Athene's stomach bubbled. Nectar and ambrosia waited in her fridge at home, but sometimes only a kebab could take the edge off.

Malik! She stepped into warmth and the aroma of grease. Make me a...

Athene blinked.

You're not Malik.

She scowled. Without Malik and the gleam of his bald pate behind the counter, Spinning Dervish jarred almost as much as the Parthenon without her statue. The man who stood there wore the same apron with its marbled stains. His skin bore the same shade of brown. But he couldn't be more than eighteen, and black fluff decorated his lip and cheeks instead of Malik's mass of beard that would have made an ancient ruler proud.

I'm his nephew. Zain.

He held out his hand, waited, and her scowl deepend.

So... uh... His smile wobbled. What can I get you?

Donner kebab. She handed over the money. And you'd better not fuck it up.

I won't. Zain's smile steadied. He turned to the spit, picked up the electric slicer, and babbled away to its buzz. My mum and dad have a kebab house back home, and I started doing this stuff when I was...

Athene tapped her fingers on the counter.

...had to stand on a stool...

She tapped louder.

...just moved here for uni, and Uncle Malik...

She sighed.

...salad and sauce?

Zain placed the kebab before her, a mound of shaved strips atop a naan, and Athene's brow unknitted a fraction. At least he could cut a decent donner.

Garlic sauce.

She took her kebab to one of the tables and tore into it.

You a regular then? Zain leaned on the counter and wiped at a spot.

Athene gave half a nod but didn't stop eating or look his way, in case that encouraged him. He carried on anyway.

...back home, and we...

She chomped and chewed.

...I'm doing archaeology at uni, and—

Ha. Athene snorted, looked up, and swallowed a mouthful of lamb, garlic, and grease. Looting the graves of better men.

Oh... I mean, I... He flinched. I just like history and... and that stuff, and I...

Zain busied himself with the cleaning and Athene devoured more donner.

The door opened. A man with close-cropped blond hair and a broad face caught his elbow on its frame, blundered inside, and stumbled to the counter. He might have been a few years older than Zain. And twice the weight. His shoulder muscles, upper arms, and belly all strained against his lime-green shirt, and Athene knew trickster gods who'd have made a good wager out of whether a seam would tear or a button would pop first.

Hi, I'm Zain. He nodded to the man. What can I get you?

Craig. He swayed and steadied himself. Donner.

He slapped some money down and a couple of coins rolled off and plinked on the floor behind the counter. Zain's smile wavered. But he shoved the money in the till, went to work at the spit, and chatted away like before. Craig mumbled back.

Salad or sauce? Zain laid the kebab out.

Chilli sauce. Loads of it. Nah, more than that. Loads more. Don't be fucking stingy.

This stuff's hot. It's got the seeds in it, and—

More!

Okay, but...

Craig glared. Zain dolloped on more sauce, and it glistened like lava on the summit and slopes of a volcano. Craig grunted and carried his donner to a table. Zain watched him. Athene chewed. Craig fumbled with the kebab, folded the sides of the naan over the meat and sauce, tried to bring it to his mouth, then brought his face down instead. He bit into it and his eyes widened.

Fuck!

A brown and white mess dropped out of his mouth. He spluttered, and sauce splattered the table. Craig's face reddened. He jumped up, grabbed his kebab, and dumped it on the counter. Zain flinched.

Worst fucking donner I've ever had!

I told you—

Make me another!

Okay. Zain held up his hands. That'll be—

Fuck off. You messed this one up and you owe me a fucking donner.

Athene stopped mid-chew and didn't blink. Long ago, she had to stop Achilles killing Agamemnon after an insult to his honour. In Zain's place, he'd vault over the counter and slaughter—

Okay. I'll make you another. On the house.

Craig and Athene both grunted.

She shook her head, ate the rest of her donner, traipsed home, and slumped onto her sofa. Should go to bed... Instead, she read a bit of The Odyssey and sighed.

At least mortals still read, even in this degenerate age.

Athene stationed herself behind the register at Acropolis, her bookshop, and sold them their stories. A few asked questions. She bit back some of her answers, because she could hardly admit she'd known Sappho, Byron, and countless other storytellers across the ages. But she pointed everyone towards the right books. The day's work passed before her in flashes of covers and currency, and if more of her customers bought romance novels than epic poems, at least the men on those particular covers reminded her of ancient heroes and their statues.

Hey. A man held up a paperback. Does this one...

He turned to the entrance. His jaw dangled. Throughout Acropolis, almost every man, and some of the women, wore similar expressions. Athene pursed her lips. That meant... Sure enough, Aphrodite sauntered past the shelves and beamed at her.

The man with the paperback murmured something, gawked at Aphrodite, and dropped too much money on the counter without looking.

Your... Athene said. ...change?

But he bolted through the door with his book in one hand and a handful of trouser crotch in the other. He adjusted himself and tripped.

Tone it down. Athene glared, but the brightness of her sister's smile turned it into more of a squint. Now.

Aphrodite pouted but something shifted in the air around her and most of the customers blinked once, as if they'd emerged from a daydream, and they browsed the books again. A couple of the men still stole glances her way. Curves still curved, even without the magic of Aphrodite's allure, but at least they wouldn't spill their seed right where they stood. Hopefully.

Happy? Aphrodite's smile settled to a less potent level. Or as happy as you get, anyway?

Do you want something?

A drink with my second-favourite sister.

Second?

Or third. Whatever. Forgotten Gods? You're closing soon, aren't you?

I'm not in the mood.

You're never in the mood. Come along anyway. The boys behave better when you're around.

Because they know I'll thump them.

So, drinks? If you say no, I'll turn my powers back on and they'll all start shagging.

Bitch.

The worst.

Fine. But just one drink.

Deal. Got a pen? I'll sign the new ones while I'm waiting.

Thus armed, Aphrodite strutted into the erotica section, glanced around, and signed the books she'd written under her various pen names. Athene served the last customers. She put on her coat, locked up, and glanced at Aphrodite.

One drink, then I'm going home.

...their patron goddess! Heroes! Proper heroes!

Athene put her cup down and squinted at the amphorae on the table. Her own likeness adorned a couple of them, though the artists had made them far too blurry and painted her in twos and threes, because apparently no one could do anything right anymore. She picked one up. Shook it. But no wine sloshed, and she tossed it aside. It shattered.

Watch it! Ares glowered at her from the next table. You could've hit me.

Piss off. Athene checked the next amphora. Batter you like I did at Troy...

Ares got up but Loki intercepted him, whispered something, and coaxed him back into his chair.

That's right. Athene grunted. Sit the fuck down.

Coffee? Loki said.

Won't bring the heroes back, will it?

Loki laughed.

Look, he said, the modern age is hard for all of us. Isn't that right, Aphie?

Aphrodite nodded. Athene shook her head.

Easy for you. Both of you. Mortals still shag and... and scam. They have orgies, not aristeias.

Well. Aphrodite grinned. When they do it right, the two aren't so different.

Piss off. I'm going.

Aphie and I will walk you home.

Huh? Athene stood, lurched, and her helmet fell over her eyes. She yanked it off. Fool. Don't need protecting.

Quite. He took the helmet. But any mortal who looks at you the wrong way will.

Loki and Aphrodite ushered her into the lobby, Loki stowed her helmet in the cloakroom, and Aphrodite glanced at Athene's coat.

You'll want to turn that inside-out, or...

Oh. Athene tottered. Yeah...

Aphrodite helped her get it off and back on, then took her arm. Loki got the door.

Donner. Athene looked from him to her. Want a donner. Spinning Dervish.

Aphrodite and Loki grimaced. But they nodded, escorted her to the glare of the kebab house, and opened the stupid door that wouldn't open when Athene pulled it, only when Loki pushed it, the damn trickster.

You. Athene scowled at Zain.

Me. He smiled. Same as before?

Yeah.

How about you two?

Hmm. Aphrodite scrutinised the menu that stretched overhead, and she frowned at the pictures of kebabs, burgers, and deep-fried things. A diet cola.

Do you have roast boar? Loki said.

We... Zain blinked. Sorry, I don't think boar's halal.

I see. I'll have words with Allah about this.

The shish kebab's good.

Very well.

Loki took out his wallet, Athene gave him a look, and he paid for the three of them with real money instead of counterfeit. Zain stuck skewers of lamb on the grill. Carved donner meat. And their food emerged from the blur. They took a table, Athene and Loki chomped away, and Aphrodite carried the conversation between sips of cola.

...my dating site was the best. My clients had more sex than anyone else's.

Huh? Loki wiped his mouth. How'd you know?

I always know. Even when they don't submit their sex-reviews, I know. But then Zeus ruined it all. He set up fake profiles, used different disguises, and slept with half the women on the site.

A young woman with scarlet hair came into the kebab house, paused, and yawned. Her eyes fluttered and their whites almost matched her hair.

You okay? Zain said.

Just need... She weaved her way over to him and groped in her purse. Chips?

She scattered coins on the counter.

Drink this. Zain filled a glass from the tap. Have a seat and I'll bring them over.

The girl murmured her thanks, stumbled to a table near the door, and spilled some of the water but got the rest down her throat.

Ah, to be a child. Loki smirked. Remember those days?

Athene and Aphrodite looked at each other.

No, they chorused.

Zain brought the girl her chips and another water, and she picked away at them and checked her phone.

Anyway, Aphrodite said, if Zeus wants to spend his retirement screwing his way through the entire mortal race...

Athene slow-chewed the last bits of her donner and half-listened.

Ah! Loki tilted his head at the doorway. The trolls dress better than they once did.

Aphrodite giggled. Athene swallowed and grimaced. Craig wore an emerald-green shirt instead of lime tonight, but it struggled against muscle and flab in all the same places. Loki caught her look.

Problem? He arched his eyebrow.

Athene's mouth twitched.

Craig took a couple of steps towards the counter, where Zain's expression matched the one Athene felt on her own face. But he saw the girl and stopped by her table. Leaned in close. The girl jerked her face back from his and mumbled something. They exchanged words. None of them reached Athene, but their expressions might as well have been theatre masks from ancient Athens, Craig's a comic hero's and the girl's a tragic heroine's.

Craig took her arm.

The girl cried out and groped at the table as if for a handhold, but she only snagged the polystyrene tray of chips and Craig yanked her out of her seat. The tray flew up with her. Chips rained down.

Oh! Loki laughed. The face that launched a thousand chips!

Shut up. Athene kicked him under the table.

Oi! Zain stormed out from behind the counter. Get off her!

The girl thrashed, Craig turned, and Zain shoved him with both hands. Craig swore and staggered. The girl broke free, darted away, and put the table between them.

Out! Zain glared at Craig and pointed at the door. Get out, or I'll—

Craig roared, lunged, and he pulled his arm so far back a skilled boxer would have hit him twice before he threw the punch. But Zain took it in the gut, doubled over, and crumpled. He gasped and groaned on the floor.

Fucking dickhead. Craig hawked and spat but the saliva dangled, caught on his chin, and glistened there. And you...

He turned to the girl and she yelped and backed away.

Fool. Loki gestured at Zain. He should stay down.

But Zain scrambled up, yelled, and hurled himself at Craig. Zain's punch bounced off Craig's skull. Craig swung back, smashed Zain's cheek, and knocked him spinning. Zain crashed against the counter. He fell onto his hands and knees, and blood dripped from his mouth, bloomed, and shone like rubies in the harshness of the light.

The girl's eyes darted and met Aphrodite's.

Go. Aphrodite nodded at the door. Run.

The girl went for it.

Craig moved to block her. But Zain howled, gurgled, and charged at him. Flailed. His fist caught Craig in the eye and Craig bellowed and reeled back a step. The girl disappeared out the door.

Shall we do the same? Loki said. I'm all for reckless folly, but this is just depressing. And if it turns into a murder, I'd rather not become a witness. Courtrooms are for more respectable deities.

Craig flailed back, just as wild now, but harder and heavier. He snapped Zain's head one way. Then the other. Zain tumbled, sprawled, and tried to push himself up, but his arms shook. Blood painted his face. Craig nursed his injured eye, panted, and his stomach heaved. A button popped and plinked. Craig and Zain's gazes locked, Zain tried to get up again, and Craig moved in to finish him.

Athene rose.

No. Loki sprang up. Don't even think about it.

He's right. Aphrodite stood. It's not—

Aphrodite blocked her path and Loki grabbed her shoulder, but they were gods of love and lies. Athene was a goddess of war. She broke Loki's grip, barged past Aphrodite, and strode towards Craig.

You. Athene clenched her fists. Leave.

Stay the fuck out of it. Craig squared up to her and pulled back an open hand. Or I'll give you a good hard—

Athene's punch shot out straight as a spear thrust and Craig's nose crunched. She hit him twice more. His right orbital bone snapped, two teeth flew and clattered. Craig groaned. His nose gushed. He reached for it, but she moved faster and shoved a finger up each nostril. Loki cackled. Aphrodite made an 'ew' sound. Athene pulled Craig to the door and he stumbled and screeched.

She released his nose, smeared the gore and snot on his shirt, and tossed him out onto the pavement. He scuttled backwards. Moaned. His eyes watered and twitched and glinted through the pain.

Fuckin'... Fuckin' kill yeh. Kill 'im. Burn fuckin' place daan.

No. Athene unbuttoned her coat. You won't.

She opened her aegis and revealed the gorgon's face. Craig