Here’s a very short story. It’s a slightly modified version of a story I posted on SFF Chronicles last month as part of a writing challenge on the theme “gods and goddesses”. If you’re not already familiar with it, check out the Chrons at https://www.sffchronicles.com/
This story isn’t hugely sci-fi or fantasy (how’s that for knowing my audience, eh?) but I hope you enjoy it!
So sayeth the slug
“Praised be the gods of the garden!” they sang.
“For giving us water,” sang the daisies, “we offer you our colour and scent!”
“For giving us sweet nectar,” sang the bees, “we offer you our honey!”
“For giving me rich loam,” sang the dandelion, “I offer…”
The bright blade of a trowel dug into the earth and bit at the dandelion’s roots, ending it’s song. And as the gloved Hand of God reached down and pulled the dying dandelion from the earth, a small voice came from under the cover of a stone.
“Fickle are the gods,” quoth the slug, “and never shall I praise them. Instead, I shall take my sup by night, as shall my children for a thousand generations, ‘til all the gods’ works are laid waste.”